#I spent so long on this but really I just kept getting distracted

[earthlybeam]

Is there any chance we might get to see the secret crush (with or without mistletoe) also with Elrond? If not, no worries, I don't want to stress you. I'm just really in my Elrond feels atm lol

Ahh, I completely get it—how could anyone not be smitten with Elrond? 🛐❤️‍🔥🥰 He’s the perfect blend of wisdom, elegance, and understated strength. chef’s kiss. 💋🤌And don’t even get me started on his voice! It’s like honey and starlight had a love child; he’s a dream boat, I class him as my fictional hubby 😉🫶✨

how would the elves react to this?

↓

↓

↓

Elrond Version below. (You and Elrond well secret have a crush but either of you acted till now.)

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

✶ The great hall hummed with life, the warmth of firelight and the soft buzz of conversation filling the space. Outside, the cold winter night pressed against the stone walls, but inside, the atmosphere was inviting and alive, the scent of spiced wine and roasting meats mingling with the laughter of guests. You and Elrond had settled into a quieter corner, where the voices around you seemed distant, a mere background to your animated conversation. Your hands moved in an endless stream of gestures, your words flowing freely as you wove stories, jokes, and observations into the air between you. Elrond, ever the listener, had always appreciated the way your voice danced with excitement. But tonight, something was different. His mind, so usually sharp and present, was slipping away from the conversation, drawn instead to the subtle, almost unnoticed mistletoe hanging above the archway nearby. It swayed gently in the flickering light, a quiet, beckoning reminder of tradition. Elrond’s gaze flickered to it again, and his heart stuttered. Mistletoe.

✶ He nodded every so often, murmuring a soft “mm-hmm” or “indeed” to feign attentiveness, but in truth, his focus had long since wandered. His attention drifted to the soft glow of the mistletoe. Elrond’s thoughts raced. Should he say something? Could he? He had spent countless moments by your side, always holding himself back. You were his friend, his confidant, and yet there was something more—something he had never dared to voice aloud. Tonight, though, with the mistletoe above and the warmth of the hall around you, he wondered: What if I kissed you? The idea seized him, unbidden but persistent. Would you pull away? Would it ruin what you already shared? He wasn’t one to act impulsively, but tonight… tonight, the temptation was almost too much. His gaze drifted from the mistletoe back to you. You hadn’t noticed his internal struggle, too absorbed in your own thoughts and stories. Your words tumbled on, each sentence more animated than the last, your eyes alight with enthusiasm as you spoke. Elrond tried to focus on what you were saying, but his attention kept slipping back to you. The way your voice filled the space, the way your laughter wrapped around him, drawing him in deeper. Every gesture you made, every word that slipped from your lips, seemed to only heighten the ache in his chest.

✶ You were so close, your presence warm and inviting, and Elrond found himself wondering how you would respond if he leaned in, if he finally crossed that line between friendship and something more. His breath hitched as his hand subtly shifted closer to yours, the idea of touching you setting his heart racing. He tried to tell himself that this was foolish, that he was overthinking it, but no matter how much he told himself to focus, his thoughts kept circling back to the same question: Should I kiss you? “Elrond?” Your voice, sharp and clear, pierced through his thoughts. He blinked, suddenly realizing he hadn’t heard a word you had just said. His mind scrambled to catch up, but there was no denying it now—he’d missed everything.

✶ “Are you even listening?” you teased, tilting your head slightly with a playful smirk. The flush creeping onto his cheeks didn’t escape your notice, and his distracted gaze and stiff posture gave him away. Elrond was flustered, and it was obvious. Straightening up, Elrond tried to recover, his eyes flickering between yours in a desperate search for something to latch onto. “Of course,” he replied smoothly, though the heat in his cheeks betrayed him. He had to make it seem like he was still in control, but his words felt hollow as they left his lips. You had caught him, and there was no hiding it now. You leaned in just a little closer, the mischievous glint in your eyes only sharpening. “Really?” you asked, the teasing tone in your voice thick with playful challenge. “What did I say?”

✶ For a heartbeat, Elrond froze. His mind scrambled to find an answer, but the conversation was a blur, the details slipping through his fingers like sand. He looked around for anything to cling to—something that might sound convincing—when his gaze fell on the festive surroundings: the garlands, the ribbons, the warmth of the gathering. The decorations, he thought. That’ll work. “Elrond?” You prompted again, your eyes twinkling with amusement as he struggled. You were enjoying this, and you were sure he could feel the weight of your gaze sharp on him “Umm…” Elrond cleared his throat, his mind still racing for something to make sense of it all. “The… um… decorations?” he stammered, cringing internally. The decorations? Really? “Yes, the decorations! They’re… very festive. The garlands, and ribbons, and… the atmosphere? Very… festive, yes.”

✶ His words were so disjointed, it felt as though the entire world had tilted off-balance. He could feel the flush creeping deeper, his heart sinking with each passing moment. I can’t believe I’m doing this, he thought. The more he tried to explain, the more his words felt like they were slipping out of his control. You let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and teasing, but there was something more to it, something knowing in your eyes. You raised an eyebrow at him, clearly amused at how easy it was to catch him off guard. “Decorations?” you repeated, as though trying to wrap your mind around the absurdity of it. “Really, Elrond? You’re telling me you’ve been listening to all that, and that’s what stood out to you? Garlands and ribbons?”

✶ His heart was racing for reasons he didn’t fully understand—embarrassment, confusion, and something else, something deeper. The playful teasing in your voice didn’t help him at all. He could feel your gaze on him, sharp and probing, and it made him feel as though you could see straight through him. His tongue felt tied. What could I even say? The kiss, the longing, the tension that had built up between you, all of it seemed so close now. He had almost said it, had almost made that leap—but now, all he could manage was a stuttered excuse. You watched him, enjoying the way his composure faltered. There was something about catching him off guard that sparked a flutter of excitement in your chest. His attempt to pass off the decorations as the thing that had caught his attention was almost too perfect. It was clear—he hadn’t been listening to you at all, and yet here he was, fumbling over the simplest of answers. His words stumbled, disjointed and unsure, and it made you want to press just a little harder.

✶ “So, all that talk about ribbons and garlands, and you’re still thinking about them?” You leaned in closer, your voice dripping with a teasing warmth. “You’re really going to try to pass that off as a proper answer?” It felt like power, but there was something else beneath it too, something softer. You could see the frustration in his eyes, the way he avoided meeting your gaze now, and it made your heart skip a beat. There was more to Elrond than he let on, and you were beginning to realize just how much he might be hiding. From you—and from himself. Elrond, meanwhile, felt the weight of your teasing press down on him. You could see it, couldn’t you? He couldn’t hide his thoughts from you—not this time. And maybe he didn’t want to. He opened his mouth to speak again, but the words eluded him. Should he say something about how he felt? Should he finally let go of the fear that had been gnawing at him all night? The kiss. What if I just kissed you now? But his mind was a whirlwind, and before he could act on the urge, his thoughts were drowned out by the lingering question that had been haunting him all evening: Should I kiss you? The words were hanging in the air between you both, and with every second that passed, it was becoming harder to ignore them.

✶ Without another thought, Elrond leaned forward, closing the gap between you with a decisive yet gentle movement. You continued speaking, unaware of his intentions, lost in the flow of your words. His hand brushed lightly against yours, grounding him in the present. He could feel the warmth of your skin, the subtle connection as his fingers made the faintest contact with yours, sending a ripple of electricity through his chest. The touch made him realize how much he had been longing for something more, something deeper, and he couldn’t wait any longer. His breath caught as he watched you, still oblivious to his inner turmoil, your voice filling the space between you. He knew he couldn’t hold back anymore.

✶ You began to speak again, unaware of the storm of emotions swirling within him, but before you could form another sentence, Elrond silenced you with a kiss—a kiss that was sudden, but soft and sure. It was a break in the endless flow of conversation, a pause that felt like time itself had slowed down just for the two of you. His lips met yours with a delicate pressure, as though testing the waters. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the feel of your lips, warm and welcoming, against his. His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, grounding him in the moment. The softness of your skin under his touch made his heart race, and he deepened the kiss slowly, carefully—unsure of what you might do, yet unable to stop himself.

✶ When you didn’t pull away, when you softened into the kiss, something inside Elrond snapped. It was as though every unspoken thought, every hesitant longing he had carried for so long, was suddenly allowed to rush forward. His heart surged as the kiss deepened, more confident now, slow and deliberate, with the weight of everything he hadn’t yet said. It was as though his lips were speaking the words he couldn’t quite form. The kiss felt like an answer to the unspoken question that had hovered between you both for what felt like an eternity. The tension, the longing, everything that had been building between you evaporated in that moment. You melted into the kiss, your hand instinctively reaching up to touch his arm, feeling the warmth of him beneath your fingertips. Every kiss, every movement, felt like an exploration, as though neither of you knew where it would lead, but you both wanted to find out. It was a kiss that said more than words ever could, a kiss that was at once tentative and full of yearning, quiet yet full of promise. Elrond felt your breath against his lips, your warmth filling him with a sense of peace he hadn’t known he needed. When the kiss finally broke, he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, but his forehead remained pressed gently against yours, as if he couldn’t bear to be too far from you.

✶ You stared at him, wide-eyed, caught between surprise and something softer, something unspoken yet undeniably clear. Elrond’s heart raced as he searched your face for any hint of what you were feeling. His pulse thundered in his ears as he waited for your reaction. The silence stretched between you, thick with emotion, and for a moment, neither of you seemed to know what to say. Finally, you whispered his name, the sound soft and breathless. “Elrond…” His heart stuttered at the way his name passed your lips, and he looked at you with a gentle, almost apologetic smile. A light flush colored his cheeks, and he cleared his throat, his voice dropping to a low, warm murmur. “Forgive me,” he said, the teasing glint in his eyes softening, “but you weren’t giving me much of a chance to speak.” You blinked in disbelief, a faint laugh escaping your lips. Your mouth opened slightly as if trying to process his words, before another soft laugh bubbled up, catching you by surprise. “Wait—so you kissed me to stop me from talking?” you asked, amusement flickering in your gaze. Elrond chuckled, the corners of his mouth lifting into a playful smile. “Perhaps,” he said, his tone light but sincere, “but in truth, it was long overdue.”

✶ Your heart fluttered at the warmth in his voice, the sincerity behind the playful words. For the first time, you became aware of the mistletoe hanging above you both, the realization slowly dawning on you. A grin tugged at the corners of your lips as you looked up at it, then back at him. “Oh,” you murmured, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “So that’s what you’ve been thinking about all this time?” Elrond glanced up at the mistletoe, his eyes following the soft, green sprigs that hung above you both, before returning to you. His voice was steady, though there was a hint of vulnerability in it that contrasted with the lightness of his words. “I might have been,” he admitted, his gaze locking with yours. “Though, truthfully, I haven’t been able to think about much else when I’m with you.”

✶ Your heart skipped a beat at the quiet sincerity of his words. For a moment, you were speechless—an unusual occurrence for you, to be sure. But there was something about the honesty in his eyes, the depth of his feelings, that left you breathless. When you finally found your voice again, it came out softer, tinged with playful teasing. You leaned in slightly, just enough to close the distance between you. “Well,” you murmured, your lips curling into a teasing smile, “if that’s the case, you might as well kiss me again. Just to make sure I’ve properly stopped talking, of course.” Elrond’s eyes sparkled with both amusement and warmth, and his smile widened as he leaned closer. His hand found yours once more, fingers threading with yours as he moved in. “Gladly,” he whispered, his voice warm, the words filled with both humor and something deeper, something more sincere. Without hesitation, his lips found yours again.

✶ This time, the kiss was different—more assured, more confident. The hesitation had melted away, replaced by a certainty that had been brewing for far too long. The kiss was slow and deliberate, deeper than before, carrying with it the weight of everything unspoken between you. It was a promise, a vow, one that echoed in the way his lips pressed firmly against yours, as though he never wanted to pull away. Your arms wrapped around him instinctively, pulling him closer as the kiss continued, lingering and full of meaning. The world outside seemed to disappear once more, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the softness of his kiss, a shared moment of connection and understanding.

✶ When the kiss finally broke, Elrond pulled back just enough to look at you, his breath soft against your lips. He smiled, a gentle and sincere expression that made your heart swell. “I think I could get used to this,” he said, his voice soft and full of warmth. You smiled back, your heart full of something unspoken, something deep. Your voice was teasing, but there was a warmth to it that matched his. “I think I could, too,” you replied. The bond between you had deepened in that kiss, forged in the lingering sweetness of the moment and sealed beneath the mistletoe. There was a promise in the air, a silent vow of more to come. And in that quiet, shared space, you both knew it was only the beginning.

Bonus - funny but romantic

✶ Elrond’s smile lingered on his lips as he gazed at you, the shared moment between you both settling in the air. The soft warmth of his touch still lingered on your skin, and the unspoken bond felt stronger than ever. He continued to hold your hand, his gaze full of tenderness, but there was an undeniable spark in his eyes—a glimmer of mischief, of something deeper. His fingers gently traced the back of your hand, as though he couldn’t quite bear to stop touching you. You were lost in the quiet intimacy of the moment, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you met his gaze. The space between you felt electric, charged with the weight of everything unsaid, everything you both shared.

✶ You leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling with playful challenge, your voice soft yet filled with a teasing edge. “Well,” you murmured, lips curving into a smile, “another one?” Elrond’s breath caught, and before he could respond, you were already moving in, closing the distance between you once more. He didn’t resist this time. His lips met yours eagerly, but as the kiss deepened, you leaned in more, pushing gently against his chest, encouraging him to lean back. Elrond, caught off guard by your sudden shift in momentum, lost his balance and was pulled back in his chair, the both of you tumbling to the floor in a soft heap. For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies tangled, laughter spilling from your lips as you found yourselves on the floor. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you close as the kiss continued. The world outside, the uncertainty, the quiet hum of reality—all of it faded as the warmth between you both deepened, just like before. Only this time, there was no hesitation, no holding back.

✶ Elrond looked up at you, still catching his breath, a gentle chuckle escaping his lips as he gazed at you with affection. "Well, that wasn't exactly what I had planned," he murmured, his voice warm and playful, as his hand brushed a lock of hair from your face. You smiled down at him, your heart racing, but the lightness of the moment carried you both forward. "Maybe you should stop planning then," you teased, your eyes sparkling with amusement and affection. "I think I like this spontaneous side of you." He chuckled softly, pulling you closer, his lips finding yours again, this time with a renewed sense of certainty. As you melted into the kiss once more, neither of you could deny that this moment, however unexpected, was exactly where you both were meant to be.

[freckleslikestars]

I'm old-school, Mulder. Pre-Google.

Happy 60th Birthday Dana Katherine Scully!

google search overlay by @cal-kestis, spotify overlay by @danesdehaan following scrolling tutorial by @eddiediaaz [insp: ☆ ★ ☆ ]

[haartstring]

Jan 4

cat pot study, Jan 2 (1.5hr?, reference, Metropolitan Museum of Art)

[starkwlkr]

she’s always a woman | max verstappen

an: this fic is a special birthday fic for my lovely friend anto!! happy birthday love!! hope you enjoy your special day <3 also let’s just pretend that lewis wasn’t battling max for the championship in 2021 instead it’s max and the reader

tw: jos mention and narcissistic mother

Max couldn’t really remember why your friendship ended. He was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you had a bad race and needed some support, etc. He was always there so when you stopped talking to him, he was confused and hurt.

KARTING DAYS

At the time, the boys you raced against hated being beat by a girl. It was humiliating! A girl was faster than them? No way! But when Max Verstappen saw how fast you were, he was amazed. You made it look so easy.

“How many trophies do you have now?” Seven year old Max asked you as you two shared a bag of gummy bears, your favorite snack.

“I haven’t counted. What about you?” You questioned.

“I haven’t counted either.” He replied.

It was a long day of practice and all Max wanted to do was spend time with you and eat gummy bears. He noticed how you only ate certain colors like red, blue, orange and yellow. He asked why only those colors and your response was that those colors were your favorites, all the other colors looked unappetizing.

Spending time with you was something Max loved about karting. Most of the boys you competed with would rather lose than hang out with a girl, but not Max. He liked being around you. And it seemed like you liked having Max around too so it made no sense to Max why you stopped talking to him.

As time went on, Jos Verstappen kept a close eye on you. He certainly didn’t want some girl distracting his son. He kept telling Max how much of a bad influence you were, but of course Max didn’t listen. Why would he? He liked you and you liked him.

Unlike Max, your mother’s words went to your head.

“He’s just like the other boys, sweetheart. When you least expect it, he’s going to leave you heartbroken.” Your mother told you one day after another successful win. She watched the way Max stood next to you on the podium and clapped for you.

“But he’s my friend.” You said lowly.

“What did I say about this sport? You are not here to make friends, they are not your friends and neither is he. He’s competition and if you want to keep winning then you need to keep away from that boy!”

The next time Max saw you, he was the heartbroken one. Every time he kept trying to get your attention, you ignored him and turned the other way.

Did I do something wrong? Maybe I forgot her birthday? No, it was a month ago and we ate chocolate cake together.

All day Max was wondering what he did to make you upset. He had even brought a tiny bag with only red, blue, orange and yellow gummy bears for you. He had spent an hour picking out your favorite gummy bears and now you weren’t talking to him. . .

Little Max Verstappen had his first heartbreak at the hands of his first love.

The next day he figured you would start talking to him, but it was like he didn’t even exist in your world. He was starting to lose hope.

“Good, now you won’t have any distractions.” Jos told him after Max mentioned how you had stopped talking to him.

“But she wasn’t!”

“She was.” Jos confirmed.

Max stayed quiet. He knew it was no use trying to argue with his father.

As you both grew up, Max was beside you at every podium even if you weren’t on speaking terms. He hoped that maybe one day you would speak to him. He also kept a plastic bag in his bag with your favorite gummy bears to share with you in case that day ever came.

2021 SEASON

Max was both nervous and excited for the last few races of the season. Both you and him were battling for the championship. It was like a dream come true for him, both of you in Formula 1 and now you’re both in the championship picture. He wouldn’t have it any other way. To Max, it would’ve been better if you could at least acknowledge him.

It was after the Brazilian Grand Prix when Max wanted to congratulate you on your win, but had to wait until you finished with your interviews. He was eager to talk to you.

The post-race interviews were a whirlwind, but the moment that caught your attention was when a reporter, eager for a headline, asked you about Max Verstappen.

“We've heard that you and Max were childhood friends. What’s the story there? You two seem to be fierce competitors now. Was there any friendship left between you, or is it all business these days?"

Your smile tightened. It was the last thing you wanted to discuss, but you were a professional, and you knew better than to let your personal life spill over into the press room. Your gaze flicked to the corner where Max was conducting his own interviews, but you quickly refocused on the question.

“Max and I... we were friends, sure," you said coolly, your voice steady but your tone sharp, almost as if you were trying to distance yourself from the memory. "But that was a long time ago. I don’t really have time for friendships anymore. Racing’s my focus. It always has been."

“But you were so close back then," the reporter pressed. "Is it hard to battle him for the title, given your history?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain your composure. "Racing's not about who you used to be friends with. It’s about who’s the best right now. And I’m focused on being the best."

“So, no hard feelings?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You didn’t miss a beat. "No time for feelings," you replied, your lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Just results."

After finishing all your interviews, you walked back to your driver’s room. All you wanted was to lay down and take a much needed nap, but the sweet voice of a Dutchman stopped you. It had been years since you heard Max say your name.

Before you could say anything, Max stood up abruptly and walked toward you, his stride purposeful. He reached out, grabbing your arm with a firm grip, pulling you into your room without a word.

“Let go of me, Max," you whispered, but your voice cracked.

“No," he said simply, his tone rough, but his eyes were soft—something in them that you hadn’t seen in years. "I’m not letting you walk away again."

Your heart skipped a beat. His eyes searched yours, that fierce intensity you remembered from your childhood still present, though now mixed with something else—pain, perhaps. The unspoken hurt you both carried for so long hung between you two.

“Max," you began, but he cut you off.

“Why did you stop talking to me?" His voice was quieter now, but the question hung in the air, sharp and urgent. “Everyday i asked myself ‘did I do something wrong? Did I say something that hurt her?’ What is is? Why?”

Your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath, your eyes lowering to the floor. "You were my competition," you muttered. "And my mother… she made it clear. She said you would take everything from me. That I needed to stop talking to you or I’d lose everything." Your chest constricted, and you felt a sudden wave of bitterness rise within you. "She said you were nothing more than a threat to my future, and I had to focus—focus on winning.” It pained you to even remember all the talks your mother had with you about Max.

Max stared at you for a moment, taking in your words. The silence that followed was thick, the air between them charged with everything unspoken. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

“I never wanted to take anything from you." His eyes were filled with a quiet sincerity that made your stomach twist. "I never asked for this. I never asked for us to be enemies."

Your breath hitched as a knot formed in your chest. You stepped back, your hands trembling. "But that’s what she wanted. She wanted me to beat you, to prove I was better. To make sure you didn’t have what I could have." Your voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a flood of emotion you had long kept hidden. "I—"

Your words faltered as you felt the familiar sting of tears threatening to fall. You tried to hold them back, but the weight of it all—the pressure, the competition, the years of silence—was too much. You turned away, pressing your palms to your face, feeling the dam break inside you.

Max didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his arms enveloping you in an instant. You stiffened at first, surprised by the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn't think. But then, something inside you snapped, and you collapsed into him, your body shaking as the tears finally came.

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back, grounding you in the moment.

"I’m sorry," you whispered between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You kept repeating.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if offering you the comfort and understanding you had been denied for so long. "You didn’t deserve any of that." You clung to him, unable to stop the flood of emotions that had been building for years.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and the sobs turned into shallow breaths. Max didn’t let go. He stayed, a quiet anchor, as if he would hold you for as long as you needed.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were swollen, your makeup smudged, but you felt something lighter—something like relief, like a door you hadn’t realized was closed had finally opened.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” You wiped away the tears.

“I don’t really care about him right now,” Max responded. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “You need me right now.”

“Max, I don’t want you to get in trouble. You need to leave.”

“I’m a grown man. He can’t tell me who I can and any talk to.” He said.

“Then . . . I don’t care what my mother says either,” You declared. “You know, she said we couldn’t talk anymore because you were my competition. That I shouldn’t get too close to you. She thought it would make me weak."

“Your mom never understood that... you’re not my competition. You never were. You were my best friend. And I . . . I miss that.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Max.”

QATAR

The camera lights flickered on, and the usual hum of the media circus surrounded Max Verstappen as he sat in front of the press. Another victory under his belt, but the atmosphere in the room felt different today—slightly more tense than usual. The 2021 season was in full swing, and the rivalry between Max and his childhood best friend and fellow F1 driver, had become one of the most talked-about stories of the year.

“Max, earlier this week, someone that you knew quite well was quoted saying, ‘No time for feelings, just results,’ when talking about your past friendship. Given the intensity of your current rivalry, how do you feel about that statement?”

He took a breath and leaned forward, his voice steady but laced with an undeniable undercurrent of emotion.

“she’s one of the most focused and driven people I know. I don’t think anyone truly understands what it’s like to be in her head—how much racing means to her. She’s an artist, in every sense of the word, when it comes to driving. She doesn’t do anything halfway.”

A brief silence fell over the room. Max seemed to weigh his next words carefully.

“We’ve both been through a lot over the years, and yeah . . . I get why she said what she did. This sport can make you say things you don’t always mean. It can make you choose things—like cutting ties with people who used to be your family, just so you can win. But trust me, it’s not easy for her. Or for me.”

His voice softened slightly, the edge of competition giving way to something more genuine—something rooted in your shared history.

“She’s not the kind of person to just forget about things or people. I know her better than anyone,” He continued. It was as if he could talk about you all day and never get bored. “As for the championship, yeah, It’s just the way it is. But that doesn’t change the fact that I respect her more than anyone. She’s a hell of a driver, and I know what she’s capable of.”

Max leaned back slightly, the cool exterior of the driver once again overtaking his emotions. He was a fighter. And this season, he wasn’t just fighting for the title.

ABU DHABI

It had been weeks since your last conversation with Max, but occasionally you would sneak glances at each other. Maybe even smile at him, which caused the media to wonder if your friendship had finally been restored.

The paddock was bustling with the usual pre-race energy—team members darting around, engineers checking telemetry, and drivers preparing for what would be a pivotal race. But Max Verstappen was not focused on the usual chaos. He was standing in front of your motorhome, his jaw clenched as he faced a woman who had been an obstacle in his life for far too long: you mother.

All he wanted to do before the race was to wish you good luck but he had one problem that came in the form of your mother.

“This is a pivotal moment for her career, Max. The championship is on the line. She needs to focus.” Your mother spoke.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t need you to tell her how to focus. She’s not a child anymore. She’s not your puppet.”

She smirked, her gaze calculating. “Oh, I know exactly how to handle her. You, on the other hand, have always been a distraction. Just like you were when you were kids. I told her back then that you were competition. And look where we are now—competing for the championship.”

Max took a step forward, his voice low but sharp. “You don’t get to control her anymore. She doesn’t deserve the way you treated her. She never did. She’s not some tool for you to use to further your own agenda. She’s a person. A damn good one, too.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smug grin. “And now you think you have feelings for her? After all these years? You’re wasting your time, Max.

Max’s chest tightened, a sudden rush of frustration coursing through him. He had always felt something for you—something deep and complicated—but he hadn’t realized how much until he saw you again. How could he not? The way you made him laugh, the way you understood him in a way no one else did. The way your presence grounded him when the world felt chaotic.

“I’m not wasting my time,” Max snapped, his voice rising. He was no longer just angry; there was something more vulnerable beneath his words. “I... I care about her. More than you’ll ever understand. And I’m not going to just stand by and watch you tear her down again.”

Her eyes widened, the smugness on her face faltering for just a moment. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly recovered, her icy demeanor back in place. “You think you can just waltz in and change everything, Max? You think she’s going to forget the way I’ve always looked out for her?”

Max’s pulse was racing now. “You’ve never looked out for her. You’ve held her back. You’ve made her feel like she couldn’t trust herself. Do you know how many times she’s questioned her worth because of you?”

Before your mother could reply, Max spoke again. “If you think for a second that I’m going to back off now, you’re wrong.”

Your mother glared at the Dutchman. “I’ve spent years in Formula 1, fighting for every ounce of respect, and now I’m fighting for her, too. And I’m not letting anyone—least of all you—tell me what I can or can’t feel about her.”

His words hung in the air between them, the weight of them settling in. He turned to leave, but paused at the door of your motorhome, looking back one last time.

“Tell her,” Max said, softer now, “Tell her I’ll be waiting at the finish line. I’ll always be waiting.”

Maybe your mother would pass on the message, maybe not. Either way, Max would still be waiting for you.

The roar of the crowd still echoes in the distance, but it’s muffled, almost surreal, as you stand behind the barriers, your helmet under your arm, heart still racing from the intensity of the race. The buzz of the paddock feels far away, and your body is heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. You finished second—close, but not close enough. Max had done it. He’d won the championship, after all the drama and all the battles that had led them to this final, decisive moment.

You lift your eyes and see him, standing by his car. Max, in his usual composed way, looking like he belongs there, like he's always belonged there, standing among the team and the media, all his focus, all his attention fixed on you. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he spots you, but it’s the way he’s standing, waiting, that hits you. Like he said he would.

You hesitate for a moment, thinking about your mother’s words, about everything that has always been said about Max—his arrogance, his rivalry, the fact that he’s always been competition. But this, here, this feels like something different. He’s not the enemy anymore. At least, not in the way they used to think of each other.

You take a breath, and then, almost instinctively, you walk toward him. As you step closer, you hear the whisper of her mother’s voice in the back of your mind, a warning you’ve heard so many times before. Stay focused. Don’t let him distract you. He’s your competition, not your friend.

But your steps don’t falter. You reach him, and when you do, you look up at him, your gaze soft, not the hardened competitive stare it once was. Max’s grin deepens, though it’s filled with something almost bittersweet.

“I heard you were waiting for me,” You said, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your voice is steady, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in it, something you can’t quite mask.

Max’s eyes soften, and for a moment, it feels like time pauses. He looks at you as if he’s not seeing the driver, the fierce competitor, but the girl he used to know—the one he used to race against in karting, the one who once shared the same dream, the one who still, in some ways, understands him better than anyone else.

“I told you I would,” he replies quietly, his voice low and calm. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Your mind flashes back to the words he said to your mother, the promise he made—I’ll always be waiting.

“You won. Congratulations.”

Max’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a certain warmth in the way he looks at you, a quiet understanding that goes beyond just racing. He takes a step closer, his voice a little softer now. “You’re better than you think. I have a feeling you’ll take it away from me next year.”

You shake your head, but there’s no bitterness in your gesture. “Next year,” you repeat. Your fingers press the edge of your helmet tighter, almost like you’re grounding herself in this moment. But there’s something else too—a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Maybe. But I’m just glad you’re here.”

Max’s smile is genuine now. “I’ll always be here. Waiting for you to finally beat me.”

You laugh—a real laugh this time, one that’s not forced. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day,” you say, your voice a little lighter. “You should go with your team, I’m sure they’re waiting to drown you in champagne.”

Max chuckles, then steps forward. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing in the midst of the chaos, everything else fading into the background. You breathe in, realizing just how much this—this moment—matters more than the championship itself.

“So, Max, you’ve just won the title, but there’s a lot of talk about your competitor. She’s been called ‘too emotional’ in the past by some. What’s your take on how she handled this title fight?”

Max turns towards the reporter, a protective energy surging in him. He absolutely hated doing interviews, all he wanted to do was get back to you. “Well, for one, I think anyone who says she’s ‘too emotional’ is clearly not paying attention. She’s one of the most focused drivers out there. Honestly, anyone who thinks you can compete in this sport at the level we’ve been at, especially in the last few races, without being deeply passionate—well, they don’t understand what it takes.” He glances over at you, who’s trying to hide a smile while also looking frustrated with the question.

While you were a few feet away from him doing your own interview, you could hear Max. You tried hard to listen to the interview questions, but all you wanted to do was listen to what Max had to say.

“isn’t it a bit too much? The way she gets in her own head. She’s been—well, let’s just say, a bit of a perfectionist this season.”

Max shook his head, chuckling at the reporters words. “But, you know, that’s exactly why she’ll be winning a championship someday soon. I have no doubt about it, but I’m excited for the day she takes my championship away.”

Max could hear you burst into laughter at his words. His smile grew ten times bigger. “Seriously, though, she’s one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever known. she’ll steal the show when you least expect it. And maybe she’s a little bit hard to understand at times, but that’s exactly what makes her great.”

The reporter nodded. “Are you saying she’s like, uh, the Billy Joel song?” He asked confused.

Max grinned, clearly amused by the confusion. “She’s always a woman to me. Maybe I’m not the best person to explain it, but you get the idea.”

You chuckled once again as you heard Max. He really had a way with words.

“And one day, I’ll be watching her take the title with the same respect I have for her right now.”

That’s when you decide to step in after finishing your interview. “Maybe, Max. But for now, I think I'll let you have your moment. You’ve earned it.”

“We both did. I owe it all to you.”

[yieldtotemptation]

NOVEMBER ft. Somi

somi x male reader smut

9k words

"It's this challenge I'm doing. One whole month—thirty days—without having an orgasm," you're explaining, failing spectacularly at keeping things professional. Something possesses you to add: "No nutting. Hence the name."

Somi just stares at you. Flabbergasted.

Leans forward, elbows on her knees, chin in her palms; tearing your entire existence apart with her eyes.

"Can I just say, and I genuinely mean this in the nicest way possible—but that’s the stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard."

—

Here's the conclusion you've arrived at from the one hour you've spent with her: Jeon Somi is some kind of demon.

It’s not a joke, it’s not some painterly metaphor you’re drawing—Somi has clawed her way out from the depths with nothing but a ponytail and an alarmingly tight pair of leggings; arriving on Earth, in the flesh, to make your life a living, breathing, sweat-drenched hell.

So, yeah.

Somi, the succubus. Or something close to that.

It's the only explanation for it really.

See, you're a photographer. Of women, specifically.

Beautiful women in intimate settings, sparse aesthetics. That’s your whole deal. Just homing in on the subject, capturing something ‘real’ without any distractions. Get the essence of who they are when there’s no one looking.

Pretentious, sure, but it’s what’s kept you in demand with the glossy magazines and the avant-garde galleries and the starlets desperate to convince the public that they’re more than just the pretty robots their agencies have programmed them to be.

So, suffice to say, you've met all the types.

The innocent idols that need a mountain of coaxing to come out of their shells. The stone-cold divas that barely acknowledge your existence, yet somehow still expect you to anticipate their every demand. And the flirts, willing to do just about anything for the camera with a wink and a nudge, if it means getting an edge on the rest of the industry.

But Somi? She just is.

Pure temptation incarnate, from head to toe, without even trying. Thighs that threaten to strangle your self-control, a waist that makes sinners out of saints, tits that would have physicists reconsidering the very nature of gravity, all topped by a dangerous smile that could melt a fucking igloo with its sheer wattage.

Somi’s hot.

She knows it, the world knows it, the public crucifies her for it. And she just takes it all, all of it. Melts it all together and forges it into armour.

And now she’s here, in your private space. None of the usual entourage of make-up artists, managers, whatever. Just herself and an absurdly sweet frappé. Looking so comfortable that it’s making you feel like you’re intruding.

She’s leaning on your table, ass flush against the wood, arms crossed, and her eyes—those fathomless dark pools—land on yours, holding them hostage.

Barely has to make any effort when she laces her words together, piles on an unhealthy dose of insinuation, cocks an eyebrow and asks—“So, how do you want me?”

Naked, preferably. On all fours, ass to the sky. Or maybe on her knees, mouth hanging open, tongue out, elbows squeezed together to make her tits sing.

Yeah, you're already composing the perfect shot in your head.

Fuck.

You rub your eyes. Maybe thirty days of self-imposed abstinence has finally broken you, and this is all some kind of feverish hallucination driven by your libido.

But no, Somi is still there, lounging in your studio, all curves and challenge. Just being insanely hot.

You cough, clear your throat. Put on the mask of someone far more professional.

“Anywhere you’d like,” you’re answering, keeping your expression decidedly blank. This isn’t the first time you’ve been the only outlet for a young sexpot desperate to let off some steam. You have the experience. But again—fuck. Thirty days is far too long. Somi is far too much. “Just keep it natural. Like I’m not even here.”

Somi just laughs, sweet and sinful, her whole thing. Pushes off the table with a grace that seems almost supernatural (again, see the demon theory), before adding a thought, like it just sprung up in her pretty head— “Easier said than done.”

Distractions aside, all things considered, she’s the perfect subject.

Gets what you’re going for immediately, makes herself at home amongst your studio's chaos. Glides around the room, runs her fingers over your equipment strewn about—the lights, the lenses, the negatives hanging in the corner.

The sway of her hips, the flex of her back. The dip of her brow and purse of her lips when she asks, "What's this for?", and the genuine interest when she listens to you explain about aperture, and light metres, and so on and so on.

(Snap a photo of her silhouette when she's by the window, leaning against the glass to spy on the passers-by.

Snap a photo of her smile, when you say something that's really not that funny, but she laughs anyway.

Snap a photo of her legs, when she finds a couch to lay on—stretching herself out, showing off their length, the tone of her thighs, the promise kept hidden by her leggings being pulled tighter and tighter.)

Another hour passes quickly, and you take a break there, more for your sanity than her endurance. Leave her to her own devices while you flick through the shots you’ve managed to get so far.

Only, when you scroll through your laptop, scan through the dozens upon dozens of rapid-fire photos you've taken—it's a horror show.

None of them work.

Not because of her, but because of you.

The way you've shot her. Far too revealing—you've put too much of yourself in these pictures. Turned them from images to confessions. Each one a fucking love letter to her body—her legs, her tits, her lips, her ass, her tits again—everything about her that makes you ache.

It's not art. It's borderline pornographic.

And yet, Somi's still just lying there.

Drinking down another pick-me-up that she's had delivered, this one with enough caffeine to take down several horses, chatting away so casually while you try to stitch your soul back together. Sipping and talking about who-knows-what, throwing out feelers, smiling easily, laughing sincerely, utterly oblivious to the havoc she's wreaking on your self-control.

An effortless grace when she lifts herself off the couch, saunters over to you and leans in far too close, gets far too familiar, lays on far too much charm when she asks, “Mind if I take a look?”

Yeah, you do, but you still force a calmness into your voice that you’re certainly not feeling when you turn the laptop so she can see.

“Wow,” is her initial review, and now she’s touching you, hand on your shoulder, tits pressed up against your arm and you’re certain that none of this is accidental, like an oh, just trying to get closer so I can better appreciate the photos you’re flipping through, never mind that you're getting a precise estimation of my cup size just from the feeling alone.

Do your best—ignore the pressure, the warmth, the softness. Watch her face, see all the tiny details; her eyes lighting up when she catches something she likes, her thoughtful hum at a particularly good shot. The smacking of her lips, the furrow of her brow, the recognition as you scroll.

One by one, with each photo, her expression morphing from curiosity to understanding.

She notices.

“You’re good at this.”

You wait for it. “That’s all?”

Her eyes glint, “None of these can be used though.”

“I know.”

The screen’s frozen on a particularly compromising shot: there’s Somi’s face, barely in it, just the bottom-half, her lips pouting out and looking all plump and delicious. Camera angled up high, pointing down the dip of her tight, sheer top and the shadowy valley that makes up her cleavage. Scanning down to her legs, folded to the side beneath her, the squish of her ass cheeks over her heels, spilling into the corner of the screen.

Sin, captured in fifty megapixels, barely contained inside a four by six frame.

A submissive dream.

“These for your personal collection, or—” and when she catches the heat rising up the back of your neck, changing directions, “—not that I mind, as long as I get a copy.”

Clearly finding all this much funnier than you are—that smile’s a knife to your chest. So sharp and knowing; it would have you gasping for air, if only you’d look.

Keep it cool, play it off with a shrug, “We’ll try again.”

“I doubt we’ll get any different results,” Somi’s predicting, bouncing on her toes now, getting closer and closer until she doesn’t need to make much of an effort to make herself heard. Close enough that she could feel you now, if she wanted to. Just brush her fingers over you and get a good idea of the reason why this photoshoot is going so far off the rails.

She instead leans her chin onto your shoulder, breath hot against your cheek. Like throwing a match on gasoline.

All the power of this girl, this woman, wrapped up in a single gesture. Wielding it so freely, so innocently, so easily. Heat that's self-aware, that knows just how much it's burning.

You caution, “Keep it professional.”

“Doesn’t that run counter to the whole aesthetic. I thought we were going for raw?”

“Natural.”

“What’s the difference?”

You need to stop yourself, shut the laptop, end the session right now before it’s much too late. Before you’re turning to her and realising just how close her lips are to yours, just how tiny her waist is compared to your hands, and you're saying the words that will end all semblance of propriety and professionalism— “With you, I don’t think there is one.”

“Well as long as we agree,” and Somi’s turning away, striding back to the couch, leaving you to breathe again. Making you thankful for the space, but missing the suffocation of her heat all at once.

Plopping herself down on the cushions, one leg folded under the other, leggings so thin you can see the shape of her underneath. Natural, just like you asked—looking like she's the only one here that’s exactly where she wants to be.

You’re thinking you’re off the hook.

Maybe you can get back to work.

Only, “So, it’s been a while, then?”

“Somi,” you’re saying her name for the first time, officially, and it’s coming out far too strangled. Far too needy. She loves the sound.

“Come on, humour me.”

“Somi,” again, you’re trying, clearing out the cobwebs from your throat.

“Sir.”

What the fuck.

She doesn’t move. Waits patiently for your answer.

You give her the inch, knowing she’ll take the mile.

Raking a hand through the back of your head. “Thirty days.”

The look on Somi's face is apoplectic. You're glad you have the wherewithal to capture it.

"It's a—" and you're feeling quite stupid as you explain it to her in detail; the abstinence for a month, the purpose of it all, the supposed benefits, "challenge."

That sends Somi ranting, hands flailing in the air. Incredulous, at you, at this challenge, at the idea of putting yourself through this self-imposed torture. “Stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”

And then, when she sees your face.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But seriously. Thirty days? And not once.”

Your voice is dry. “No.”

“Not even by accident?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Wet dreams, nothing? No jerking it? No sex? At all?” Somi’s bursting out laughing, hand flying to cover her mouth, barely even able to breathe. It’s so absurd to her.

And it doesn’t take long before she puts it all together. Processes the information, sees the picture she’s painted of you. The sad, desperate artist, with nothing but a dying hunger and a camera. Realises the predicament you’ve put yourself in just by having her here.

She’s not laughing any more.

“And so you chose today, November 30th, to schedule me?”

You’re very, clearly frustrated. “Not my choice.”

“I see.” She bites her lip. Angles herself just so.

“Dial it back.”

“Tell that to your boner.”

You look down. Pants distinctly flat.

Somi’s grinning. “Made you look.”

“Are you done?” You ask, forcing yourself to look away from her, busying your hands by screwing on a different lens, as if it’ll somehow make her appear any less distracting, like it’ll blur out all your worst intentions and bring back some actual decorum to this whole fiasco. “We don’t have much time left.”

Turning back to her, raising your camera, aiming straight and true and—

Somi, unzipping her heels, kicking them across the floor with a dramatic flourish.

Snap.

Somi, lifting her top up and over her head, stretching her arms up high to push her breasts out forward; making them tight, outlined, so obviously pebbled against the cotton of her bra.

Snap.

Somi, digging her thumbs into the waistband of her tights, pointing her legs up in the air so she can peel them off without getting up, thrusting her hips up off the couch to yank them over her ass.

Snap.

“Somi,” you’re saying again, because apparently, you’ve forgotten how to make other words.

“Just doing what feels natural,” she says, smile turning wicked, reaching behind her back to unclasp and oh, now she’s completely naked. Rearranging herself into this pose. As if she isn’t already the centre of your universe.

Thirty days, flushed directly down the drain.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

—

You’ve found it, the perfect photograph.

Somi, kneeling on the couch, hands folded on her lap, staring down the barrel of your camera with her tits out. Unreal. Works of art, both of them. Miracles of flesh, gravity be damned.

“You’re not taking any photos,” she points out.

You swallow hard. “I’m taking it in.” 

Her hands come up to cup her breasts, giving them a bounce. For fun. For you. For the look on your face. You capture the jiggle. "Good, because I'd hate to think all this was going to waste."

It’s a little fucked up, how right Somi is. You wanted raw, honest—here it is, Somi as she kneels. Just being herself, being the woman everyone accuses her of being—the sinner, the whore, the slut.

Being the woman she knows she is, with everything that it implies—the confidence, the appeal, the fucking powerhouse of magnetic attraction. Not an image being projected, not a role she’s playing, but the reality of her, shooting straight into your veins, raw sex personified—as natural as breathing.

And before you know it, you’re capturing her lips with yours, an ‘mmmph’ slipping out from her as your mouths collide and your tongues meet.

It’s not intentional, it just happens. You lean in, she’s hot, she smells like heaven and sin wrapped in a neat little bow and you’re kissing her.

Tongue finds hers, attacks, retreats, joins and intertwines, and it’s everything you imagined it would be turned all the way up—sweeter, hotter, and so much more fucking dangerous.

Lips head south, tongue sliding along her neck, teeth on her shoulder, kisses into her collarbone; and finally, you’re at her breasts.

Softer than a dream, tasting like pure addiction; you kiss the tops of her breasts, lap up all the sweat that’s beaded down in between. Drag your tongue down, follow the curve, the dip, and ending at the hard little points poking against your lips. Filling your mouth with as much of it as you can—licking, suckling, making a complete mess of spit on her chest, and then biting, just a little, just to make her moan.

“So this is what denial does to a man, hm?”  Somi slithers into your ears, under your skin, hands at the back of your head and holding you in place.

She arches into you, pushing herself closer, letting you taste, indulge. Feast on what you’ve been missing out over this long stretch of days.

And fuck, maybe it is the abstinence, the pent-up need, or maybe it’s the fact that tits in general are just fucking incredible things. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s that it’s Somi, in all her outrageously perfect glory, so happy to be the one that gets to ruin you, that’s making you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust.

Not that it matters one bit.

Not that there’s any thoughts at all in your head; there’s just Somi’s tits and your tongue. Lapping it up like you’re trying to drink her in, memorise every contour, every curve, every little goosebump you induce with each swipe of your tongue.

Somi’s tits; a canvas, and your mouth’s painting the picture of a lifetime.

“Baby,” Somi coos, hands on the side of your face, lifting you up off the cushions of her breasts. She’s giggling, her fingers wiping at the strings of drool that you hadn’t even realised you’d been leaving behind. “Remember what we’re here for?”

Right.

The camera. The art. The job. The no-touching rule.

But your mind is a blurry mess of tits and need, and all your blood has headed south for the afternoon, and it's making you feel like you're melting from the inside out.

“Let me give you a hand.” Somi’s gentle with you, like you’re a stick of dynamite with a frayed wick, just the slightest touch and you’ll blow.

She takes your hand, fingers brushing against yours, little sparks of electricity making your hairs stand on end, and lifts your camera up to point directly at her.

And then, she smirks. As if to say, yeah, she’s read all your thoughts; seen straight into you and has discovered the vault where you’ve kept every one of your deepest, darkest impulses locked up for thirty long days.

Somi repositions herself. Poses her body, determined to bring every single filthy, desperate, starving fantasy of yours to life.

Reclining back into the couch, thighs apart, spreading her legs wide.

Showing off her cunt.

Bare and gleaming. Shaven clean—just this perfect, pink, wet little pussy calling out to you. Open like a fucking invitation.

You’re staring.

She waits for you to catch up.

“Now would be a good time to start using that camera.”

You take a step back. Heart racing, hands shaking; you’re usually so much better than this. Take a deep breath, lift the camera, do your job, make your art, capture as much as you can while you have fucking perfection putting herself on display for you.

The click, the shutter echoing through the studio.

It makes Somi sigh.

Her eyes find the lens, locking down her target. A fucking miracle of biology, that’s Somi. Born to have cameras on her, as in love with them as they are with her.

Her fingers dip, trace down over her ludicrously tiny waist, her abs, her bellybutton, stopping short of her mound. Dancing over her pussy, light as a feather.

Fucking grinning as she asks, “Like what you see?”

The camera’s flash answers for you.

Touching herself, stroking, circling, pressing down. Building a crescendo that you can see painted on her; through the tensing of her abs, the heaving of her breasts, her cheeks going pink, her breaths getting shorter, and her lips parting to moan.

You’re barely conscious of the fact that you’re talking under your breath, a singular demand— “Keep going.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thirty days of denial has turned you into a starving man, only for Somi to show up and make herself a full-course feast. The perfect model, but also the worst fucking thing possible for your resolve.

You take a deep breath, grip the camera tighter.

If you’re going to crack, you might as well go out with a bang.

Guiding her, as if she was any other client, and this was just another photoshoot— “Open your legs wider, Somi. Show me everything.”

Her eyes widen, pupils dilate. Sparks, excitement, lighting them up. She does as she’s told, pushing out her knees further, sinking down into the couch cushions.

Thighs quivering, pussy sopping wet and pulsing. All for you. For your camera.

Another click, the shutter again, like a time-bomb ticking down to your doom.

“Play with your clit. Tease it.”

Her hand obeys, delicate, slender fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles, hips bucking slightly with each pass. The noises she makes are obscene. Harsh, breathy whispers that make you throb; moans that get caught in the back of her throat.

It’s a rush of blood straight to the head, an almost dizzying sensation, having Somi so eagerly following your every command. Her face says it all, this slut positively loves being told what to do.

“Keep it light. That’s it,” you say, stepping closer, hitting your marks, your angles. “Turn to me. I want to see your face.”

“Like this?” Somi breathes, turning to face you fully, her hand still playing with herself, stroking in a way that's almost cruel—so gentle, so teasing, so obviously designed to make you lose your mind. “Getting the pictures you’ve been dreaming of? Someone like me all spread out for you?”

You nod, jaw clenched, keeping steady. Or at least, you think you are, considering how good Somi’s making this for you.

Making sure you get the right shots of her—her pussy, swollen and puffy, dripping down a puddle onto your couch. Her tits; pinched until they’re hard and sensitive, a vivid red against the stark white of her skin. Her eyes, wide and wild and looking straight down the lens, communicating her arousal in a million different heated ways without saying a single word.

Let it be known; Somi knows exactly what she’s doing.

Knows when to sigh, knows how to arch her back, knows in which direction to pout her lips. Knows how to make every click of the camera count.

“Good girl,” you’re telling her, praising her, and it’s enough to make her keen.

“Am I?”

“Of course,” you say, leaning in closer, close enough to feel the heat of her body, a furnace against your skin. See the sweat dripping down her thighs, tiny little droplets shimmering against the muscle, begging to be licked away. “You’re doing so good, Somi. So, so good.”

You’re getting closer now, kneeling. All for the sake of the perfect shot.

Seeing her fingers work, spreading herself open, exposing her folds, glistening. Her clit standing tall and proud. Her entrance pulsing, waiting to be filled. It’s like watching a masterpiece come to life, a photo that’s been taken a thousand times before but never quite captured right. Until now. Until Somi.

Somi's smiling down at you, all knowing, all tempting, making your mouth water, and it takes all your self-discipline to not drop the camera and replace your lens with your tongue.

She laughs, low and throaty. “Looks like you’re enjoying the view.”

“You have no idea, Somi,” you answer, adding, “But you can make it better, can’t you? Make it wetter. Hotter.”

“Mmhmm,” she agrees, getting to work at making your instructions real. She’s a professional too, after all. A master of her craft. Her other hand snakes down to join her first; one hand pressing firmly down on her clit, the other plunging two fingers up into her cunt. Pushing in, curling, until it’s hitting that sweet spot that makes her preen.

“Perfect, Somi.”

You’re transfixed, as Somi starts to fuck herself in earnest, the camera almost forgotten in your hand. She’s so drenched that every stroke is accompanied by a wet, slick sound; and the way she’s creaming around her digits, dripping down her wrist, it’s far beyond a simple performance being put on for the sake of a photograph. It’s the real deal.

Somi’s breaths come faster, her eyes glaze over, and she’s biting down on her bottom lip, trying to keep from crying out too loudly.

You know you’re getting the best of her, can see it across her face: this is what she truly enjoys. Being watched, being desired, being told what to do all for your pleasure.

“Oh, baby,” she’s barely managing hushed, strained whispers, “Oh, oh, oh…”

You feel like you’re in a trance, your own hand wandering down, needing to adjust lest you rip right through your jeans. The sight alone is devastating enough, but it’s making you swell, until there’s no point in trying to hide it anymore.

“That looks so,” Somi’s licking her lips, seeing the state you’re in, seeing the desperation in your eyes, the strain down below, “Nice.”

The camera is your anchor, your north star in this whole mess. You keep it steady, even as Somi’s breaths grow shallower, turn to pants. Losing herself to you, to the moment, to being captured in all her vulnerability.

She’s fucking herself even faster now, fingers sawing in and out of her pussy, wetter and wetter still, knuckles turning white with the force she’s applying.

“You’re doing so good, Somi, such a good girl for me,” you’re reassuring her, unable to hold back your own need, your own desire from leaking into your voice. It’s a battle, a war really, against your own urges, your innate desire to just drop everything and dive into her, feel her tightness around you, make her scream out your name.

But it’s too soon, Somi’s too close, and it would be a fucking crime to stop her.

“Baby,” she gasps, the word a prayer and a taunt in equal measure, “Baby, I don’t think I can last any longer.”

You’re grinning now, heart racing, camera at the ready. “Good.”

Somi’s on a knife’s edge, balancing on the precipice of climax. You can see it in how her body’s seizing, how she throws her head back, exposing her neck to you—needing your kiss, your bite, your claim. But you resist, intent on capturing every moment of her unravelling.

Because you want to know. Want to capture it. How she cums. What sounds she makes, what noises she can’t keep in. What she looks like when she falls apart.

“Cum for me, Somi,” you’re telling her, “I want to capture it all.”

Somi trembles. She wants it too.

Her eyes screw shut, her breath hitches, and she’s there, sinking back into the couch, letting out this sweet little gasp of anticipation.

The studio goes silent except for the sound of her fingers in her cunt and the shuttering of your camera.

In, out, snap.

In, out, snap.

Fucking herself. Fucking you with her very existence.

And then—“I’m going to—”

Her body arches off the couch, a scream ripping from her throat, her hand working furiously, pussy clenching so sweetly around her fingers. It’s the type of photo people spend entire careers never getting to capture, the most beautifully obscene sight you’ve ever been lucky to witness—Somi, in the throes of pleasure, wracked by her own orgasm, all for the sake of your camera.

It hits her hard and fast and all at once, turns her body into a bow, taut and tense, before it’s released, snapped, melting her down into a boneless puddle.

You watch in awe as Somi cums, writhes and wriggles, and she makes these noises that you’ve never heard from a woman before; crying out so loud you’re surprised the neighbours aren’t banging down the door to see what the commotion is about.

It’s only when she finally relaxes, is released from her orgasm, that you lower the camera, out of breath from the sheer exertion wrought by just watching her.

You’re both near devastation—Somi sprawled on the couch, chest rising and falling, eyes closed and an elated smile on her face, and you, knees threatening to give out, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of her satisfaction.

“That was—” Somi tries shaping the words, but they don’t come. She just lies there, lazy and sated, catching her breath.

Moments pass before she can open her eyes again, only to find you, standing over her, jeans vanished, cock out and level with her parted lips.

“That was just the beginning, Somi.”

It's just the sight of you, but Somi’s delighted. Seeing you like this—exposed and so ridiculously hard. All because of her.

She slides off the couch, kneeling at your feet.

“Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. Anything at all. Just make sure you capture it.”

“Then suck.”

Wet, hot heaven. Somi’s mouth is heaven.

Tongue darting forward, swirling around the tip, teeth grazing the head, and you’re groaning, hips jerking forward involuntarily until you’re falling into her mouth.

Somi’s got a way about her, a finesse that’s unmatched in everything she does. So, so good for you; opening her mouth nice and wide, hollowing her cheeks just right, pursing her lips to make sure you feel it when she sucks.

Just gleeful when your hand finds purchase in her ponytail, when hers wrap around the base of your cock, and you push. Inch by inch into the sweet heat of her mouth, taking it all, making sure you can see it, see how thankful she is to be granted the privilege of swallowing you whole; of having you completely filling her throat.

Holding herself there, nose pressed up against your stomach, eyes looking up, watering slightly around the edges. Not even gagging, just warming your cock with her throat, pulsing, tight, unbearably hot.

She raises her brows.

Ah, that’s right.

Snap.

Pulling off you, dragging her lips, her tongue up your shaft, leaving behind a choked, drooling mess that she’s so fucking proud of.

Giggling around a mouthful of your cock, laughter vibrating across your skin, and it’s a wonder you don’t lose yourself right then and there.

But somehow, you hold on; brace yourself against Somi massaging your balls, tickling the underside of your tip with her tongue. Playing with you, taunting, enjoying every second. Popping your cock out of her mouth so she can truly take measure of you at your achingly hardest, so she can breathe onto your cock in wonder, “Just look at you.”

Balancing your length in the palm of her hand, barely able to wrap her fingers around your girth.

“So big, so hard,” she’s rapt, talking to you, to herself, making sure the ghosts haunting your studio know exactly what she’s dealing with her. “And it’s all for me, isn’t it?”

“Darling,” you’re calling her, making her swoon, “Take it all.”

And she does. Somi, eager, opens her mouth wide, and lets you fuck her face. Getting you deep, so deep that you can feel her throat clench around your tip, slurping, moaning, choking now, but never, ever stopping. Just drooling down your thighs like the good little slut she knows you need her to be.

You’re back at it, taking photos, trying to get the perfect angle, but it’s proving a big ask when your knees are wobbling and your vision’s growing blurry. You’ve got Somi’s eyes in the viewfinder, all wide and blown with lust, looking straight through the lens of the camera and at you, daring you to break first.

But there’s still so much more of her to capture, so much more of her face to fuck.

Her red lips against your skin. Her cheeks bulging with your length. The line of her throat as she swallows. The tears in her eyes when she gags.

Somi’s arms loop around your back, cupping your ass, pulling you closer, urging you deeper.

Winking, giving you all the right cues; a muffled, “Here,” she says with her eyes. “This angle.”

And she’s right. It’s perfect. She’s got a talent for this.

Taking you deep, feeling like your cock’s never going to be able to leave her throat, only to pull back so you can see just how much she’s enjoying herself. How much she’s into this, so grateful to have you capturing every moan, every gag, every little sound she makes as you fuck her mouth like it’s the first time—and after a whole month it might as well be.

“Fuck, take it, Somi, you’re doing so well,” you tell her, knowing what it does to her—the praise, the adoration. Absorbed straight into her bloodstream, making her work harder, suck better, choke a little more. “Such a good girl.”

She loves it. Her eyes brighten, she squeezes your thighs, nails digging in. She loves it all.

You’re getting so close, you can feel it—thirty days of denial are about to come to a head, and she's going to be the one to bring you there. And yet, you still haven’t gotten nearly enough pictures to do her justice.

Somi sees it too, she can tell, knows just how close you are, but still, she's just lie you. She wants more.

She pulls back, an idea hatching in that filthy mind of hers, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Wait,” she says, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, cleaning herself of her spit, her drool, your leakage. “I want another photo. For comparison’s sake. Just for my memories.”

You’re not sure what she means, but you don’t ask questions. You just keep your camera at the ready, watching her move, watching her lean closer.

Your cock hovering just above her cheek, tip bumping up against her nose, leaving a wet streak across her face. She holds herself there, your length atop her face, and it’s all in view—her eyes fluttering closed, the tip of her tongue poking out to catch a taste of your precum, the way she’s breathing, deep and heavy, smelling the scent of you, inhaling it like it’s oxygen.

Somi—her face, her tits, her waist, her thighs.

Your cock.

All in view.

That’s the photo.

And when it’s done, you’re backing off, relearning how to breath, how to stand on your own two feet without crumbling to the ground. Somi’s tongue chases you but you’re out of reach, setting the camera down on the floor.

You need to get in on this. Fuck silly challenges. Fuck being a passive observer.

You’re done just watching. You need to feel her.

Somi looks at you all smug and satisfied, on her knees, awaiting your next instruction. “Finished taking pictures?”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you start peeling off your clothes, each layer like a heavy weight of your shoulders; until you’re just as bare and needy as she is.

Back to Somi, cradling her face, letting her lean into your palm. Running your thumb across her jaw, dragging it across her lips, stamping it onto her tongue.

She sucks.

Christ.

Thirty days of hell, given up for one moment in heaven.

Fuck it. She’ll make it worth it.

You tell her in simple, clear terms. “I’m going to fuck you now, Somi.”

“Please.”

It’s your turn now.

You relax into the couch, legs spread wide, cock throbbing in the open air, beckoning her to come closer.

Somi reads the room, your posture, your need, and she rises to the occasion. Joining you on the couch, back on her knees, thighs gripping on the outside of yours. Hands planted firmly on your shoulders, and the whole time, her eyes don’t leave yours, not even for a second.

Appreciate her, this woman, giving herself over to you.

Untying her ponytail, sending honey-brown hair cascading down her face, caressing her neck, her shoulders, meeting the tops of her breasts, perfectly rounded and waiting for the return of your teeth. Her waist, her abs, tensing and releasing, with every hot breath. And her pussy, already there, shimmering, dribbling down your cock, waiting.

Somi’s waiting for your permission.

So, taking her by the back of her neck, pulling her close, kissing her hard. Forcing this whine into your throat as your cock bumps up against her folds, sets off fireworks down her spine.

It’s a translation. Your need, from your tongue to hers, telling her that it’s only her that can do this you. Can rip you from responsibilities, from sanity, from all the shit that’s been keeping you going for the last thirty days.

Telling her that it’s worth giving it all up for just a taste, because maybe that’s the point of the challenge in the first place. Not a matter of self-control but a way to save yourself for something—someone—so potent, so powerful, so fucking irresistible that you just have to surrender to.

You pull apart, breaths hot and ragged, tongues still connected by strands, your hands already at her waist.

“You’re going to ride me, Somi. You’re going to cum on my cock and I’m going to watch it all.”

Somi nods, understanding.

Letting you guide her by the hips, sliding her fingers between her legs to take hold of your cock, aiming it at her entrance.

Lowering herself down, slow, so fucking slow, like it’s a brand-new form of torture, until your cock is nestled at the entrance of her heat, and you’re both vibrating with the anticipation of it, the gravity of this moment.

You take a harsh breath. “Ready?”

Somi presses her forehead to yours. Teasing, “Are you?”

And then, inch by inch, dragging her cunt down your shaft, making you feel every bit of her wetness, her tightness, every bit of her heat, Somi takes you in.

Pussy tightening around you like a fist, walls pulsing, massaging your cock, like she’s already trying to milk you dry. This moan that’s torn from her lips, deep and primal, something she’s been holding in for far too long, this needy, unholy cry that takes the shape of your name.

And when she’s bottomed out, when you’ve filled her until all she knows is you, Somi looks down in your eyes, nothing but pure, unfiltered lust strewn across her face. “Everything you were hoping for?”

You try, but fail, to form coherent words, just manage a grunt of pleasure, a nod of your head, and she laughs—it's the sweetest, most evil sound you've ever heard. She's got you, hook, line, and sinker.

“Good to know,” she says, and that’s all she needs to start moving, to set the rhythm that’s going to shake the walls, send them crashing to the ground until all that’s left is the two of you fucking amongst the rubble.

Her thighs tighten around you, hips start to roll in a way that’s just too fucking good, too fucking perfect. The friction is everything, makes the world narrow to just the two of you, the sound of skin slapping against skin, the drenched slick of her pussy, the heavy scent of her filling the air.

“Baby,” she repeats, each time her thighs slap down against yours, each thrust all the way up into her guts. “This cock is so perfect for me, so fucking—”

A snap of your hips into her, pulling her down hard, making her tits jump at the force of it, making Somi wail. There’s her cunt, spasming around you, tightening, trying to hold you in, trying to keep you there, but you’re not letting up.

You take over, holding by the hips and fucking her, like you’ve been waiting for, like you’ve been so fucking desperate for, like she needs so badly.

“God, you’re really—really fucking pent up, aren't you?" Somi's words are chopped up by the relentless thrusts of your hips, making her stutter, her voice all strained and breathy. Bouncing on you now, letting you set the pace, eyes screwed shut, just giving herself over to you. “I’m so, so lucky. So lucky that it gets to be me that breaks you. That takes you. That gets all this cum you’ve been saving this whole time.”

You’re gritting your teeth, unable to do anything but just fuck. Driven mad by it, by every impulse coming right up to the surface.

Everything you’ve been holding back, it’s all here, being unleashed onto Somi.

Fuck her, fill her, make her scream—‘Please, please, please’. Those are the only thoughts in your head now. Forget about the job, the photographs, the responsibility—just be yourself, a man on the edge, ready to jump off the fucking cliff.

“Baby,” Somi’s repeating, as your fingers find purchase in her ass, as she lays kisses on your shoulder, marking you up along your neck and down your jaw. There’s other words too—filth, all of it; whining to you about how you’re filling her up so good, about how she’s so wet for you, about how you’re going to make her cum so hard. But it’s all just noise to you. Noise that can be summarised in the simplest of requests, right from Somi’s lips—“Please, fucking use me.”

It's the perfect way to come apart—have someone like Somi, with her heavenly tits in your face, and her greedy, greedy cunt soaking up everything you’re willing to give. Begging, wanting, needing to be ruined.

“So fucking tight for me,” you’re kissing into her chest, finding your voice somewhere between her breasts. Telling her, “Fuck, Somi, your pussy. It’s so good for me. So fucking perfectly wet.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Somi sighs back, arms barely hanging on, holding at your neck, unable to do nothing but whimper and bear it. Bear this fucking you’re giving her, your cock invading her cunt, making her pussy tighten around it like a vice, making her abs clench, her tits jump, her throat swallow—making her sweat.

It’s like she was made for this—cunt made for your cock, body made for your arms. Somi, perfectly designed to be used by you. To moan and whine at your mercy; to be fucked, to be filled, to ruin you and to be ruined all the same.

“I can’t, I’m trying but I can’t hold on,” Somi’s teary-eyed, kissing at your face, your neck, her breath hot and sweet against your ear. “Baby, please. I need to feel you. Need more of you.”

And you’re only too eager to oblige.

Lifting your head, pulling her body closer. Catching her left nipple in your mouth, sucking hard, nipping at the peak until she’s gasping, until she’s arching her back, pressing her chest closer. Feeling the flesh flush against your lips, hitting your chin with each hard thrust.

Fuck, her tits. You could suffocate between them only to claw your way out of the grave just for another taste.

Her nails dig into your scalp, demanding more—more attention, more adoration, more worship. You give it to her—switching between each of her breasts, suckling and licking, making her whine and buck against your teeth.

“Just like that, you’re so good at that, so good with my tits,” she moans, short, tiny sighs that send your hips jerking upwards. Fucking her faster, quick, staccato thrusts that hit her just right, make her walls quiver around you. “They’re yours, all for you. All of me is yours.”

Her orgasm builds; it’s palpable, a storm brewing in the studio, sweeping up everything in its path. Each breath she takes is a hitch, a little cry, a whine. So tight around you, fucking her so hard, so deep that you can feel it coming from the inside out.

“Filling me so good, so, so good,” she mewls, and there’s still some fight in her left, a burst of energy in her thighs, allowing her to grind down harder, drop her ass on you—an up, down, up, down that echoes through the studio with each smack.

“You’re going to cum for me Somi,” you’re telling her, detailing exactly how she’ll come completely apart. “You’re going to cum all over my cock, you’re going to scream for me when you do it, okay? Tell me how good it feels.”

“Yes, yes, yes, tell me what you want—anything—I’ll do it, I’ll be so, so good for you—”

“You’re going to beg me for my cum, Somi. Going to beg me to give it to you until you can’t take any more,” you’re growling, your teeth sinking into her tits, your tongue pushing up against her flesh, making her sing.

You’re fucking her apart, tearing her in two with your cock. This girl you've only just met, who only just walked into your life; nothing but sex in a pair of high heels, and you’re already rearranging the furniture of her soul.

Now she’s the one that can’t make sense of things, can’t form full sentences—just incoherent whines and cries, each one stacking on top of the other, until the foundation’s all tilted and it’s going to collapse any second now.

Just waiting for you.

Separate from her chest, take a fistful of her hair, pull her back so you can look in her eyes and see. See just how badly you’re ruining her, how terribly she’s falling apart.

Make sure she can see you, has her attention on nothing but you when you tell her, finally, “Cum. Cum for me, Somi. All over my cock.”

She’s breaking.

“Now.”

“Please, I—” Somi’s words live and die on her lips, barely making it out before it hits her, seizes her entirely, forces her cunt to strangle your cock as she shatters.

It’s all there, her pussy tightening, pulsing, clenching, releasing in this quake of bliss that feels like a sucker punch straight through your gut.

When she cums it hits her, hits you, waves of heat washing over your cock, splashing down onto your thighs. It’s the sensation. So overwhelming, so undeniable, grinding down her orgasm onto you, pleading, over and over and over again, “Don't stop, don't stop, please!”

Writhing in your arms, needing to be held close to stop her from falling off the couch completely. Eyes rolling, head thrown back, exposing her neck, the perfect arc of her throat. Her body jolts, jerks, twitches, and it has you fucking hypnotised.

And all Somi can do is say, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”

She keeps going, until each thread is unravelled, until you’ve fucked loose every last bit of control she’s got, until she’s nothing but a trembling mess in your arms.

But it’s not over, not yet.

You’re still hard, so fucking hard. Bursting at the seams. And Somi’s looking down at you, pulling herself back together. Seeing your cock, buried inside her. Seeing the mess you’ve made of her, her own pussy. Seeing everything.

And she’s smiling, because she knows what comes next.

“Use me.”

You lift her off your cock, so easy to carry; her tiny waist in your hands, she’s so light. Still shivering, these tiny, little aftershocks quivering through her, it’s like she’s clay in your hands, ready to be moulded at your discretion.

Somi gasps when she’s laid out on the couch, her legs spread wide, her cunt leaking down her thighs, all cream and cum. She adjusts herself, makes herself comfortable, presentable. Putting herself in the best possible state to be used by you.

“Use me, baby,” she repeats again, that sweat plea that’s going to be you’re undoing. She’s so, so needy, practically whining for more, for everything, for anything as long as it involves your cock and her.

You stand over her, cock at the ready, eyes on your next target, the natural stage for the grand finale, the pièce de resistance of this whole fucked up photoshoot—Somi’s breasts.

She follows your gaze, realises, “You want to fuck these tits, don’t you?”

You find your voice gravelly, deep. “Yeah.”

Somi giggles, hands at her chest, taking either side of her breasts, pushing them together with her palms and creating this gorgeous valley, just waiting for your cock. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to beg.”

Somi blinks. Once, twice. Sees the look on your face, sees how hard you are for her, how desperate you are to let go.

But she knows how much you need to hear it. Knows how much she wants to say it.

“Please. Baby, please. Fuck my tits. Cum all over me. I need it.” Somi’s licking her lips, massaging her breasts together, showing you just how soft they are, how ready they are for you. “I need to feel your cum on me. All over me. My face, my neck, my chest. Everywhere. Let me do this for you.”

That’s it.

You’re back on the couch, straddling her stomach. Knees on either side of her waist, cock between her tits. Soft, warm, inviting.

“Like this?”

“Yeah. Just like that,” you manage, each word a mountain of effort as you watch your cock disappear between her breasts.

It’s a gentle push, that’s all it takes, and Somi starts to move, making her tits jiggle around your dick, squeezing it from either side as you slide your cock up and down. So focused, eyes on your cock, then back to your face, studying your every reaction, waiting for that moment when you crack.

And it’s coming so soon, you’ve been teetering on the edge since Somi first walked in—fuck, on edge for thirty days—and now you’re hurtling towards the fall.

You’re not going to last, not when Somi’s got you like this. Her hands moving with you, her tits bouncing in time with your strokes. The cushioning of her breasts around you; this gentle, sweet, torturous pressure that has you grunting, has you smearing drops of yourself all over her chest.

“Fuck, you look so good between my tits. So hard. Doesn’t it feel right? Like this is where your cock fucking belongs. This is what my tits were made for. For you,” Somi’s whispering, stringing these words together like a spell. “You can go faster, baby, I won’t break. Just let go and use me like the slut I am.”

Pleading for it, so desperate for you. Sweet words, encouragement, filth, like a drug, pushing you close and closer to the brink.

Just obey, pump faster, fuck her tits quicker, watch as your cock slices through her cleavage, the gloss it leaves over her skin. See Somi, licking her lips, devouring you with her eyes, just waiting for you to join her on the other side of oblivion.

“Cum for me, baby. Please, please. I need it—I need to feel it—please!”

Her tongue stretches past her lips, flicking out to catch the tip of your cock, making you groan. Leaning in, breath hot on you, cock hitting her lips with every thrust, every drive through her tits. So fucking greedy, so eager to taste, so needy to be the one responsible for your total ruin.

“Oh, oh, oh, baby—yes—yes—yes—yes—”

She pinches her nipples, twists them just right, moans—

You feel it immediately—your balls tighten, your cock swells, and then—release.

Intense is the only way to describe it.

So fucking intense.

White hot jets of cum spurt out, firing everywhere, making a mess of her, coating her chest, her neck, her chin, her lips, her nose—splashing down all over her.

It’s a frenzy, a natural disaster, a hurricane that’s been building for one long fucking month, and now it’s here.

The way her eyes widen, the way her mouth opens, gasping for air, the way she shakes—she wanted this, but there’s no fucking way she was prepared for it.

And when you back up, she dives forward, hand seizing the base of your cock and pumps. Wrists twisting in this aching motion, winding up and down your cock, wringing you out until you’re just a slave to her fingers, her tits, her touch.

“Keep going, baby, keep cumming for me, give me everything,” she begs, sending shivers all the way from your shaft down to your spine as she works your cock.

You do, you have no choice, no say in the matter. You give her everything.

You're coming apart, torn from your own body in sticky, hot waves that leaves you absolutely breathless.

And she’s a fucking mess. All of her—her face, her neck, her tits. So beautiful covered in you. So utterly used. So utterly yours.

It takes a moment for the tremors to stop, for the world to come back into the focus. You sit there, panting, feeling like you’ve just done a triathlon and then climbed a mountain. Somi’s just smiling at you, looking at you through her lashes, glued together with your cum, her own little giggles escaping every now and again.

She looks like a dream.

“Fuck, Somi—”

“Mm?” She looks so content, so at peace with the universe. Wearing your cum like fine jewellery. As if she’s the one that just had the best orgasm of her life.

“You’re—” But what the fuck do you say? That she’s ruined you? That she’s shattered your world? That you’ll never be able to look at a camera again without thinking of her?

Ah.

That’s what you’ll do.

You lean down, pick the camera off the floor, and then—snap.

Somi, looking so sloppy and obscene. Looking like everything you never knew you needed. Looking like she belongs to you.

She wipes away at her eyes, collects the cum on her finger, before dipping it into her mouth. Sucking, tasting the flavour of your need.

“Get the shot you wanted?”

You let out a long, heavy exhale, sliding off the couch, off her, sitting on the floor next to her. Resting your head on her thighs while Somi just lies there, sprawled out, utterly wrecked.

“You weren’t kidding,” she says. “One whole month.”

You remember to inhale. “Thirty days.”

She’s fighting a losing battle, cleaning the endless fountain of cum you’ve covered her with. Looking like she just streaked through a fucking snowstorm.

But she tries, collects as much as she can, smearing it into a sticky mess. Playing with it on her fingers, rolling it around her tongue, enjoying this way too much.

You raise the camera, aim it at her. The way she’s looking at you, the way her hand moves, so fucking casual—like it's her natural state of being. Making you believe that Somi should be covered in cum, all the time. It's only right.

You just can’t help yourself. You click.

“I haven’t been fucked like that since,” Somi starts, clearly not minding being the subject of your post-coital art. “Since ever. That was—"

“A trainwreck,” you’re saying, and then finishing when you catch the look on her face, “Not like that. It was insane. Intense. Really, thirty days or not, it was fucking life changing.”

Somi smiles. “Good to know I didn’t disappoint.”

“Just. These photos. Completely unsalvageable. None of that can be sent to your agency.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Somi says, so easily, so carefree, as if she didn’t just obliterate every single professional boundary you’ve ever set. “Let me have a look. There must be some photos at the start that are useable. From before you… lost focus.”

You pass her the camera, let her scroll through the shots, see all the pornographic filth the two of you have created. She flicks through, each click another photo, another reminder of what you’ve done, what she’s done to you.

And she’s enjoying it. These little smirks, the nods of approval. Fascinated by these photos of her, of her body in these stages of ecstasy.

“Ah, yup. No. Nope. Definitely not. Oh, and that one is just… yeah.” Somi’s voice is light, teasing, but there’s a hint of awe in it. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

“It’s what you do to me.”

“I can see that,” she says, continuing until she gets to the last of the photos. “That’s pretty fucked. These are pretty fucked up. But, like. Beautifully fucked up.”

“Thanks,” you say, throwing your hands up, letting one fall on Somi’s thigh. It rests there, draws a circle over the smooth warm, skin.

It’s a good feeling. Having her here, like this. So relaxed, so comfortable. Knowing her in the most intimate ways possible, yet still not knowing much about her at all.

She sighs when your hand moves higher. You throb.

Yeah. After thirty days, only one time is not going to be nearly enough.

You already want to dive back into the land of debauchery with Somi, bring up more of those repressed fantasies you’ve been waiting to realise, even though you’re still knee-deep in the aftermath of the first round.

It’s in Somi’s eyes as well, you can feel it in the air, from the heat radiating off her skin—she's not done with you either.

Far from it.

You're going to ruin her again. You're certain of it.

“So,” she says, making a show of cupping her tits, raising them up to her mouth. Licking them clean.

Your response is swift. Immediate. “We’re going to have to reschedule.”

Somi’s laughter is pure gold. “How does thirty days from now sound?”

You blink. Stare at her, unamused.

She raises your camera.

Snap!

[monstersflashlight]

Day 3. Monster-kinktober: Haunted + Free

A/N: Continuation of this little short story. Enjoy!

Shadow monster x fem!reader || tentacle sex, oral sex, semi-public sex

When your friends insisted on me going into the haunted house with them you were scared, you were scared shitless. You didn’t like scary stuff, you didn’t even like that you were out on Halloween night. You liked your Halloween to be spent with candy and watching cringy scary movies that made you laugh and didn’t stop you from sleeping at night. But apparently you were “a baby” and you needed to “get over it”, or so they said. They annoyed you so much that you decided to say fuck it, the park attractions couldn’t be that bad, even kids went there… Right?

You were wrong.

And now you regretted it. You regretted it with every fiber of your body. When the lights went off and you heard high pitched screams, you joined in, screaming, too. You reached around and found somebody’s arm, thinking it was your friend. You clung to him like a baby koala, your whole body pressed against his side as he kept walking for a few steps, your face completely hidden in his shoulder. Your eyes were firmly closed as he stopped in the middle of somewhere.

"Darling, I'm really enjoying this, but I think you got your arms messed up," an unknown voice whispered against your ear, making you shiver and open your eyes widely, a scream almost escaping your lips before he covered your mouth with his dark hand, chuckling.

In front of you wasn’t one of your friends, but one of the monsters working on the attraction, looking at you with the most delicious smirk on his stupidly handsome face. His tentacles undulating behind his black form, all the shadows around his body, making him look enticing instead of scary. And you were almost salivating, he was that handsome. He looked good enough to eat.

You were two seconds away from running away far from him, completely embarrassed, when he stopped you again, one of his tentacles circling your waist to stop your movements. "Calm down, I will guide you outside, don't worry, I don't bite... At least not if you don't ask first." He winked at you, and you blushed, heavily flustered. Your body was still shivering, but this time it was not from fear.

You pulled away just enough to get your mouth free, but his hand landed on your neck, where he squeezed softly, making your heart skip a beat. “Can we... can we leave now?” You stuttered, trying to sound somewhat coherent even though you could feel the tear stains in your cheeks from earlier and your voice was trembling slightly.

His eyes softened. “No, darling, not yet. The doors are closed until this ends,” he explained, his hand still around your neck, caressing your pulse point and making your heart speed up.

“How long is that?” You asked, breathless.

He looked at the ceiling like it got the answer to that question and answered: “About… 20 more minutes.” You looked at the ceiling expecting to find a clock there, but there was nothing at all… how the fuck?

But you had more important matters to attend to. “Oh. Okay. I should try to find my friend then…” You pushed his chest softly, not really wanting to untangle yourself, but being a bit uncomfortable with the situation.

“Or you could keep me company,” he teased. “I bet I can distract you from the fear,” the innuendo in his tone was so clear you shivered, your panties getting wet. There was no way this amazing shadow monster wanted to fuck you, right?

“And how would you do that?” You asked.

He smirked again. “I don’t know if you realized… But I have tentacles.” His tentacles came around his body and touched different parts of yours, making you giggle when they tickled your sides. “Your laugh entices me like no other ever had,” he confessed as he lowered his head and claimed your mouth. You kissed him with desperation, clinging to his body until you were breaking apart, gasping for air. You forgot you had to breathe for a second, his kiss so good you forgot you even existed apart of that point of contact.

He started kissing down your neck, his hands groping your ass. You looked around frantically, almost expecting some other human or monster to appear, and let out a choked: “He- here?”

“Nobody is going to come this way anymore, darling… And you look especially good against that fake-mold wall,” he joked. Your own laugh died when one of his shadow tentacles slipped under your shirt, cupping your boob and flicking your nipple. You groaned and he looked at you like he was a predator and you were his next prey. You shivered again, your body filling with anticipation.

He touched you all over, his tentacles and hands were everywhere and you couldn’t stop moaning as you bite into his lips. You were fighting for dominance in a battle where nobody would lose. You were kissing like desperate souls finding each other again… and it was intoxicating. When you felt his tentacles lowering your pants and panties, you pulled away for a second, looking at his eyes trying to decipher what was going to happen next. He said nothing as he fell to his knees in front of you.

When he looked up at you, you felt like the most powerful woman in the world. Such a big scary monster was on his knees for you, to pleasure you. It was exhilarating and your pussy got wetter instantly. He probed it with his fingers and you cried out, moving your hips to get more friction. And when he grabbed your leg and put it over his shoulder, you almost lost yourself.

The first contact of his super long tongue against your pussy was like an electric shock, running down and making every cell in your body stand to attention. He didn’t give you time to prepare, before you knew it he was sucking and licking and rubbing and… driving you completely insane. You were almost there, so, so close you could almost feel it in the tip of your fingers. That’s when he decided to make his tentacles join in. A tentacle pressed softly against your asshole as another one pressed inside of you. The combination was too much for you, and you fell apart around him, screaming and thrashing as he held you down with his tentacles so you wouldn’t fall to the floor.

“That was�� That was… wow,” you let out between heavy breaths. He chuckled, standing up and kissing you again. You could taste yourself in his lips, and that made you want to devour him even more. You reached his dick, but he batted your hand away. “But I…”

“This was for you. Also, there’s no time, I need to get you outside before your friends come looking for you,” he explained with a smile as he embraced you with his tentacles, pulling your pants and panties up your legs with the softest caress. Your legs were still weak when he guided you out of the haunted house.

He guided you outside slowly, letting you cling to his arm for balance, your knees still trembling after that earth shattering orgasm. Once you were out and you saw your friends looking around for you, at the same time they located you, he leaned down and whispered against your ear: “Hope next time I can fuck you properly, darling.” You blushed heavily and he laughed, pulling away until your friends reached you. They asked a few questions that you weren’t ready to ask and he cut them: "Can I have your phone number, then?" Without thinking too much about it, you gave it to him, ignoring your friend’s cheers and comments as you typed it on his phone.

[lavenderspence]

Missing the happy hormone | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: emotional reader, period mention, fluff

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Apparently Spencer Reid could make anything better - even the emotional disaster of being on your period

A/N: First, huge thank you to the cutie that sent in this request, you literally caught me while on my period so this was born. Also, here’s to my inability to write short fics, this is your only warning that i can make and will make anything long, lol. Also, my titles suck omg. And shoutout to my crazy bestie for making me a Mamma Mia girly, she rocks.

But also, happy one month to this blog! When I carved out this little space for myself a month ago I wasn’t really sure how I’d feel being back here and writing again, but so far it’s been a treat. A huge thank you for all of your support and love and thank you to my mutuals and everyone that interacted with my blog. 💕 Here’s to many more months to come!

Request: spencer x fem!reader on her period/ovulating and shes in tears all the time?? Im ovulating and have been crying for hours and keep calling my mom lmaoo he’d been so lovely and sweet I know it I can feel it in my bones

masterlist

It was a slow day at the BAU. The most exciting thing in the 6 hours Spencer had spent at work was Rossi’s invitation to dinner the following weekend. 

Paperwork had piled high after their last 2 cases, so every team member was hunched over their desk, writing and revising reports. It was a never-ending cycle - finish a report, close the file, open a new one, and start all over again.

His eyes had started getting tired after four and a half hours, his hand had started cramping and he was down two pens so far, yet there was still a prominent pile on his desk.

He suspected Morgan and Emily might have pushed a file or two from theirs onto his load, seeing as he was getting done the fastest. Regardless, every few hours JJ was bringing even more to pile on top of everything that wasn’t finished, so buried in paperwork they stayed - no matter how fast he wrote or read, or how used to the load he was.

He was just thinking about getting up to prepare a fresh pot of coffee so he could function properly for a few more hours when his phone started ringing. He felt around the pockets of his suit jacket, where it sat draped on his chair, and then pulled it free. 

His display showed an incoming call, a picture of you as he hugged you, hands around your middle and face almost buried into your neck, a soft smile gracing both your faces. A scenery rich with reds, browns, and yellows stood behind you, the beauty of fall was nothing short of spectacular. 

The picture you’d taken last year when the team spent a weekend at Rossi’s cabin in the woods, surrounded by the beauty of landscapes and leaves, nature for miles. 

He accepted the call right away, a small smile on his face. 

“Hey sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, if a little raspy from misuse. He hadn’t talked much in the last few hours - just a distracted short answer here or a hum there. He was happy you were calling, though, welcoming the reprieve from the most recent report. 

It was silent for a few seconds, and he wondered absentmindedly if maybe you hadn’t called him on accident, and then there came a tiny little sniffle from your side. 

“Sweetheart?” He prompted, “Are you there? What’s going on?” Worry was starting to creep into the base of his spine, but he still remained calm and kept his voice gentle. 

“I’m here. Hi.” Another small sniffle, “All’s good. Just…I was just wondering how much longer you’d be gone.” Your voice was small,like you thought you might upset him by asking, and a little crackly, like you yourself were upset about something. 

His eyebrows furrowed, and he checked the time quickly - 3:57 pm. 

“Probably about two more hours, there’s a lot of paperwork we need to go through.” His eyes met Emily’s as she sent him a curious, questioning look. 

“Oh, okay.” The resignation was clear in your voice, “I’ll see you later then.” The call ended abruptly, and it took him a second to catch up.

He couldn’t help but feel like not everything was as good as you claimed it was. For one, you rarely called to ask when he’d be home - you knew his work could span into the late hours, or even stretch for days. You let him update you on any changes in his work schedule. 

In your interactions, your voice was usually upbeat and teasing - especially on the phone. Your kindness was always evident in your voice, as was your mood. You were a sunshine person, if he ever met one, that’s probably why you and Penelope formed such a close bond upon meeting. 

There was something that nagged him - a change in your mood he could pick up on just by your voice - too low, too small, and the cracks that he could now identify as he replayed your conversation in his head. You were keeping yourself from crying out, and yet there was nothing more apparent than the tears in your voice. And that made him worry. 

“Reid, are you okay?” Emily’s voice snapped him from the hard stare he’d been giving his phone in the last several minutes since the call ended. 

“I…I don’t know.” His eye twitched, and he cleared his throat before he tried and failed to articulate exactly what was happening - he himself had a hard time understanding. One thing he knew was that he needed to get home. “I..um, I need to go. Can you, please?” He asked, gusting at the remaining three files on his desk before he pulled his suit jacket on and grabbed his satchel. 

Morgan and Emily shared a mildly concerned look before they both nodded their heads, “Yeah, go. Text to let us know if everything is okay.” Morgan reminded him before he exited the bullpen with a fast step and tried to keep calm.

He was aware the situation wasn’t anything that he needed to be incredibly worried over - if something was really wrong, he knew you would have let him know. Yet, he couldn’t help the way his heart constricted by the sound of your voice, or the overwhelming desire to come home and gently hold you, see what could have caused this behavior. 

You were curled up on the couch, watching as Donna helped Sophie get ready for her wedding, the gentle melody of “Slipping through my fingers” filling the empty apartment. Your eyes were watering, to the point that everything was starting to get blurry. A shaky exhale left your lips.

Today has simply been a rollercoaster. Kissing Spencer goodbye this morning was the highlight of the day. What followed was nothing short of an emotional disaster. 

You’d teared up during breakfast, images of picking berries with Spencer flying through your mind. The desire to make it a reality was strong. 

Following that had come the overwhelming urge to bawl your eyes out, for no apparent reason whatsoever. Just cry and cry until you had it all emptied out and you could take a deep breath and continue with your day. So, cry you did, and then you’d finished with your chores for the day. 

Apparently letting it all out and emptying your tear supply hadn’t happened. Seeing as around 3:30 you’d started missing your boyfriend so much, the need to hear his voice had won out, so you’d called him. You felt the need to have him home to hold you because this month’s visit from mother flow was making you feel like a crybaby.

But then there was disappointment at the notion that you needed to wait close to 3 hours before that could happen. So you quickly ended the call before he could pick up on the tone of your voice, and then you shed a few tears. 

Now here you were, rewatching Mamma Mia because you really needed a pick me up, and once again, eyes shining as the tears started falling. At this point, it was a losing battle, so you let them fall, humming to the song with a broken voice. 

That’s exactly how Spencer found you, not a minute later. His keys were in his hand, the satchel on his shoulder, and he was just a little bit out of breath. 

The moment his eyes met you, they softened as he dropped everything and sat down next to you. His hand reached up and he cradled the side of your face, wiping your tears away. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper.

“Look at Donna painting Sophie’s nails, it’s...” You hiccuped, another wave of tears washing over you. “And you’re home, why are you home?” Your question was met with a furrow in his brow, as his thumbs continued wiping underneath your eyes. 

“You called.” He answered simply. 

“But you said-” He stopped you before you could finish your sentence.

“I did, yes. But you sounded off and sad, so. Want to tell me what’s going on?” He prompted you gently as he pushed your hair back and pulled you into his lap after, feeling like you needed the physical contact. 

You weren’t ashamed to admit it, per se, but you were ashamed that your hormones had caused him to leave work and race home to be with you. 

“It’s my period,” you mumbled, hands wrapping around his neck as you hid your face in his chest, too tired to prevent your eyes from watering again. “It’s been going on all day. Randomly, I’d just get so emotional, and the tears would start. I was missing you so much too, and then hearing the song, bam, tears again. I’m so done with this Spence.” You sounded barely coherent, with your face pushed as close to him as possible. 

It all made sense now, you’d been cranky a few days ago, and then you’d told him last night your cramps were unbearable, so he knew you were on your period, but right now he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out himself. 

“It’s okay, everything is fine. The drop in estrogen and progesterone, following your ovulation triggered this. This in turn reduced the production of serotonin, your happy hormone. So, we just need to boost it a bit.” He whispered into your ear as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“How?” You sighed into his chest, almost being able to pick up on the sound of his heartbeat.

He got deep in thought for a few seconds as you breathed in his scent, and a sense of calmness slowly overtook you now that he was home and holding you. One of his hands was running soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand, fingers interlocked. 

“How about we take a trip to the store and get you some snacks? We’ll pick up dinner on the way home and then I'll hold you some more and you'll pick a movie for us to watch.” He suggested, kissing the crown of your head once, twice, and many more times until you gave him an answer. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think that would help, but just having you here has done wonders.” You finally laid your head against his chest, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled, and so did you. Having him here really had helped immensely, and when had it not? He was your other half, your rock, and even when your emotions ran rampant or you were feeling down, just his presence, his touch, and his understanding were enough to make it all okay. 

Later in the evening, Penelope sent you a photo of Sergio sleep-hugging a little plushy you’d gotten him, and the waterworks started all over again. Luckily, Spencer was there, wiping your tears and kissing your head, saying a thousand things without actually speaking a word.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Requests are open for both Spencer and Hotch if you want to send any!

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

Unspoken Understandings

part 2 to “Shattered Silence” (Jayce Talis x reader)

Part 1

Summary: After that fateful night in the lab both ,Jayce and you, have been unsure how to address the sudden shift in your dynamic. However, sometimes all it takes is a certain yordle to force Jayce to take a break from his work and leave the lab.

Warnings: none, no spoilers for s2, no canon plot, a good amount of domestic fluff

Notes: I am really REALLY surprised about how much love “Shattered Silence” has received and hope that you enjoy this follow up just as much. <3 Once again , this has been written in my notes app, I hope I didn’t miss any mistakes.

Tags🏷️ @a-queen-blr @anxious-doodler @brabuscoffwe

The days after the break-in were a blur of frantic packing and moving. You had to find a new place fast—nothing too fancy, just something safe, something that could hold your things and the remaining bits of your research. But the weight of it all pressed down on you, your muscles aching from days spent running between your old and new apartment. You didn’t have the luxury of time to process what had happened the night you stormed into the lab, or even think much about him.

But the nights…

The nights were when you couldn’t stop thinking about how, despite everything, Jayce had held you. How, for a brief moment, you had leaned into him without fear of rejection. You’d allowed yourself to feel vulnerable, and he hadn’t pushed you away.

Now, you found yourself trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest every time you thought about him, but the silence between you both felt suffocating.

Meanwhile, Jayce had buried himself in his work. The breakthrough he’d been chasing for months was nearly within reach, and that goal, that obsession, kept him up at night. But even as his mind raced with equations and possibilities, something nagged at him—a thought that he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried.

It had started that night when you had collapsed into his arms, your trembling form clinging onto him like a lifeline. The way your body had felt in his embrace, how you had allowed him to hold and comfort you… something about it just felt right. And the days since? It was almost like he couldn't think straight without you. Your presence had become something he couldn’t quite get out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes, your face would appear—raw, vulnerable, but somehow more real than anything else in his life.

But what exactly was that thing between you? Was it something real, or just the aftershock of an unexpected and stressful situation? Jayce couldn’t even bring himself to ask.

---

It was late when Heimerdinger found him pacing in the lab, his mind so tangled in equations that the pieces didn’t seem to fit anymore.

“You’re working too hard, Jayce.” Heimerdinger’s voice was calm, but there was a quiet insistence behind it. He hadn’t seen the young inventor so distracted in what felt like ages.

Jayce, who had been scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, didn’t even look up. “I’m close to figuring this out. I just need a few more adjustments,” he said, but his voice lacked the usual tone of conviction.

Heimerdinger tilted his head slightly, his sharp gaze studying the younger man. It didn’t take long for him to figure out the nature of the inventor’s problems. “You were always quick to tell me how distracting it was when you were around her. How you could hardly think clearly when she was near.” Heimerdinger spoke , a nonchalant tone covering up the intention behind his statement.

Jayce froze, his pen hovering mid-air. He couldn’t remember ever having said that, but since the incident the times of feeling annoyed by you felt so far away. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was true. That really had been how he’d felt around you, hadn’t it? You had always found a way of breaking through his concentration, making him second-guess his thoughts and decisions.

But now? He didn’t feel distracted anymore. The thought of you didn’t pull him away from his work—it was more like you were... quieting the noise in his mind. Every time he thought about you, his thoughts slowed, calmed. The gears in his brain didn’t spin at a hundred miles per hour anymore. They… rested.

Sighing, Jayce met Heimerdinger’s knowing gaze. "It’s not the same,” he said, his voice quieter now, unsure. “It’s... different.”

Heimerdinger gave him a pointed look, crossing his arms behind his back as he looked up at the young man. “You’ve been working non-stop for days, Jayce. Sometimes the best breakthroughs come when we step away from the work for a little while. You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep this up."

Jayce opened his mouth to argue, but Heimerdinger was already walking toward the door. “I’m forcing you out of here. Take a break. Go see her,” he said, an almost cheerful tone in his voice. And with that, he was gone.

Jayce sat in stunned silence for a moment, the yordle’s words hanging in the air. Go see her? If he was honest to himself, he hadn’t even thought about it. A part of his mind harbouring a feeling of anxiousness regarding the inevitable confrontation. But something in Heimerdinger’s voice made him hesitate. It was as if the older man had seen through all the layers of self-doubt Jayce had buried himself under.

With the scrape of his chair he stood up. He needed to get out of the lab. He needed to breathe. He needed to see you.

---

It wasn’t hard to find your new place. Jayce had always been able to track down anything and anyone, with ease—Piltover wasn’t exactly a large city after all.

But as he stood outside your new apartment, his stomach churned. The weight of everything he had avoided saying hung over him like a dark storm cloud. He had no idea how this would play out—what could he even say? That he hadn’t been able to think straight since the night you’d come to him? That he’d wanted to be there for you, but had no clue how to navigate what had happened between you both?

But before he could completely lose his nerve, the door to the apartment opened, and you appeared.

You looked… tired. Your hair was pulled back in a messy up-do, and your shirt was slightly wrinkled, but there was something comforting about the chaos surrounding you. Not wanting to stare , his golden eyes quickly drifting to the space behind you. It was clearly your place now, your sanctuary, but it was still a work in progress.

You saw him before he could even open his mouth to say anything, and a flicker of surprise crossed your face. “Jayce? What are you—”

“I—uh, I came to check on you,” he said, running a hand through his hair, suddenly awkward. His nervous gaze switching back and forth between you and the wood on your door. “See how you’re doing… with the new place and everything.”

You raised an eyebrow but stepped aside, allowing him to enter. “Well,” you said with a tired half-smile, “it’s been a lot of work. Still don’t know where half my things are.”

Jayce chuckled as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His mind reeling at how your presence suddenly made him feel less anxious, like he didn’t have to carry his burdens anymore . Not here, not now.

You motioned toward a pile of boxes in the corner of the living room, your smile sheepish, almost apologetic. “You wouldn’t happen to be good at putting together furniture, would you?”

Without a second thought, Jayce was moving toward the pile, rolling up his sleeves with a quiet determination. “I can manage,” he said with a grin, glancing back at you. “But only if you promise not to laugh at my attempts.”

You smirked, feeling a flicker of warmth in your chest. “No promises,” you teased, but there was a lightness in your voice now where tiredness had been before.

For the next few hours, the two of you worked side by side, not really talking, but filling the space between you with easy silence. There was something almost intimate in the simplicity of it—a shared task, each moment feeling like it stitched something new into the fabric of your newfound connection. The screech of a screwdriver, the soft clink of metal against wood, and the occasional, shared chuckle when one of you fumbled—it was like you were building something together, but not just the furniture. It was this. Whatever it was that had started to grow between you.

You worked in rhythm, so comfortable with him that it didn’t even feel strange. You caught yourself looking up at him a few times, watching the way he moved, how the muscles in his arms flexed when assembling the pieces and silently admiring the way the light caught the lines of his face. Jayce wasn’t just the scientist, the bold, sometimes aloof figure you'd known—here, in this space, he felt… real. Vulnerable, even. The arrogant mask you had become so accustomed to had slipped away, leaving only the person beneath. And for the first time, you saw him as someone who was just as human as you.

When the last piece of furniture was assembled, both of you collapsed onto the couch. The apartment was still a mess, but somehow, it felt more like home now. After hours of unpacking, moving boxes, and trying to make sense of the chaos, you and Jayce had both reached a kind of quiet, shared exhaustion. There was something about the way the late afternoon light filtered through the windows—golden and warm—that made everything feel a little less overwhelming.

Jayce was beside you on the couch, leaning back against the cushions with his sleeves still rolled up, hair unkempt and his face still a little flushed from the work. Normally, by now you’d be bickering with each other, exchanging sarcastic remarks til one of you would have enough and storm out of the room. But ever since your distraught form had stormed into his lab, that usual dynamic was missing. The crackling back-and-forth had faded into something quieter, something more... honest.

“So, this is it, huh?” you said, glancing around the room. It was a mix of completed and incomplete, a snapshot of a new beginning. “Still a long way to go, but... it’s getting there.”

Jayce surveyed the room, his gaze lingering on the boxes and the half-finished furniture scattered around. “It’s... definitely not what I expected,” he said, his lips twitching into a smile. “You still got a ton of stuff for someone who has been robbed.” You laughed lightly, but it wasn’t a tense laugh like it would have been just a few days ago. It was more... genuine.

The silence stretched a little longer, and you found yourself thinking about how easily you used to hide behind the jabs and insults. You had both spent so much time pretending—pretending that you couldn’t stand each other, pretending like there was nothing more beneath the surface. But nevertheless, despite years of constant back and forth, Jayce had been the one your heart had led you to when your mind was in a state of absolute panic.

“You know, I’ve spent a lot of time pretending,” you said softly, looking at him from the corner of your eye. “Pretending like we couldn’t get along, pretending like I didn’t... care.”

Jayce’s eyes flicked over to you, something unreadable in his gaze. For a moment, he didn’t respond, allowing the truth to settle between you.

“I think I was pretending, too,” he said finally, his voice low and honest. “Pretending I didn’t want... this.” He gestured loosely between you two, his hand hovering in the air, as if the words were more difficult to articulate than the feelings behind them.

There it was. That truth you had both danced around for so long. And now, it didn’t feel awkward. It felt like a breath you both had been holding ever since Jayce had comforted you that fateful night, waiting for the right moment to exhale.

You turned toward him, your body instinctively moving closer. You didn’t have to think about it. The space between you was just too small now, too important to leave empty. As if by reflex, your hand reached out, softly brushing his arm, letting your fingers rest gently against his. The touch was tentative at first but you felt him respond instantly—his hand turning slightly, his fingers seeking yours, meeting you halfway.

It was subtle, a small connection that sent a rush of warmth through you. Neither of you said anything. The words didn’t feel necessary anymore. Jayce shifted a little, his knee brushing against yours, his hand gently drawing you closer. He wasn’t in a rush. You weren’t either. But as the space between you closed even more, something shifted, and you both knew the moment was right.

Jayce’s thumb traced along the back of your hand, his touch light but deliberate. Slowly, he turned toward you, his body leaning in, and you could feel his breath on your lips before his mouth even touched yours. It wasn’t a desperate move, but one full of quiet intent, like this was something that had been building between you for far too long.

His lips met yours gently at first—just a soft brush, testing, as though waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t. Neither of you did. The kiss deepened, slowly, naturally. His hand moved to your jaw, tilting your head slightly as his other hand slid around your waist, his electric touch finding its way underneath your shirt, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body against yours felt so right, so easy, just like it had back in the lab when he had shielded you from your troubles, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You melted into him. There was no rush, no hesitation now. Just the soft pressure of his lips on yours, the tender way his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if memorizing the feel of of your skin underneath his fingertips.

When you pulled back, there was no immediate rush to fill the space with words. The air between you felt charged, but in a quiet, intimate way. You both breathed deeply, your lips tingling from the kiss, your pulse still racing a marathon in your chest.

Jayce’s hand lingered on your waist, his thumb absently tracing circles on your skin. “Guess we don’t have to pretend to not like each other anymore,” he murmured, his voice hushed, almost unsure, like the weight of everything was finally settling in. You shook your head slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as your hand found his again. “No. I guess not.”

Jayce leaned back into the couch, his body angled closer to yours now. His eyes twinkled with that familiar teasing glint, but there was something new in the way he looked at you. Something lighter. “So, dinner? I think I’ve earned it.”

You chuckled, your fingers still intertwined with his as you stood. “You’ve already helped me move half my furniture, Jayce. You’re definitely sticking around.”

He flashed you a relaxed grin, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied sigh. “Guess I don’t have a choice.”

Letting go of his hand, you turned toward the kitchen, starting to gather ingredients, and Jayce followed you, leaning in just enough to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Need any help?”

You glanced at him with a smile. “Unless you’ve got a Hextech gadget to chop vegetables, I’ve got it under control.”

Jayce chuckled and stepped back, settling in at the table as you started to prepare a meal. There was something comforting in his quiet presence, in the easy rhythm of the evening. You moved around each other effortlessly, the space between you filled with warmth rather than words.

Soon enough, you set the table and sat down together, the simple meal feeling more like a shared moment than just food. Jayce took a bite, then raised an eyebrow in approval. “I’m impressed. Didn’t expect you to be this good at it.”

You laughed, your fingers brushing his as you reached for your drink. “I’m full of surprises.” He smiled at that, his eyes lingering on your face , as if trying to capture the moment.

After dinner, you started to clear the table and do the dishes when Jayce moved to help. You smiled and gently took the dish towel from his hands. “I’ve got this,” you said softly. He gave you a mock pout in return. “I was just getting into it.” Looking up at him, you smiled fondly at his behaviour. “You’ve done enough for today.”

Jayce stepped closer, golden eyes soft as his hand reached out for the towel again. “I don’t mind,” he murmured, his warmth filling the tiny space of your kitchen and wrapping around you like a safety blanket.

“Thanks,” you whispered, cheeks burning with a soft blush as you suddenly felt the quiet comfort of his presence in a way that made everything else feel far away.

Jayce leaned in to brush a kiss against your forehead, light but sincere. “Anytime.”

And just like that, everything felt perfectly in place.

[yunhoszn]

save a horse, ride a cowboy

PAIRING jeong yunho x f!reader

WORD COUNT 12.25k

GENRES fluff﹒angst﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, reader is a city girl but i tried not using too many gendered terms, cowboy!yunho RAHHHHH, mentions of food, reader has a boyfriend for most of the fic (an oc) but there’s no real infidelity, reader embarrasses themselves on what i’d say is a few occasions too many, yunho is down bad, masturbation (m! and brief f! receiving), lowkey voyeurism, a really bad dad joke, horse riding scene bc i feel that’s pivotal for a cowboy fic, lots and lots of kissing, marking, teasing, vaginal fingering x2, oral sex (f! receiving) x2, multiple orgasms, very slight edging, praise, pet names (baby, babe, and princess oops), unprotected sex (BE SAFE PLS I BEG), cowgirl position, pull out method, missionary position, creampie lol, ending is cute but also kinda up for interpretation? i guess <3

SUMMARY when your grandparents decided to retire and take a summer’s long vacation in celebration, they leave their house in your care. at least you don’t have to worry about feeding the farm animals. but you do have to worry about the tall, handsome cowboy who does.

MORE AND SHE’S DONE oh my god, this fic actually pulled so much out of me i think i was the one seeing stars by the end.. 😭 but i’m so proud of it and the goals i tried meeting while writing. first of all the length??? insane for me. i can hardly get myself to write anything longer thank 5k 😞 THATS ENOUGH ABOUT ME THO,,, this fic was heavily inspired by the django performance if u couldn’t tell by the banner 😝 and i’d first like to thank the academy aka @kimsohn for encouraging me to write this and fueling my delusions ilysm maya <3 i’d also like to give a huge thank u to @bro-atz TYSM FOR BETAING AND HELPING WITH SCENES BRO ur my life saver fr <3 PLS PLS PLS REBLOG IF U ENJOYED!!

Growing up, you weren’t the biggest fan of trips to your grandparents’ farm in the rural countryside. 

You were born in a big city, full of all the glitz and glam. There were bright lights that lit the skyline at night, distracting from the stars that illuminated above. The wide open space was blocked by high towers and large skyscrapers. You were accustomed to the sound of bustling pedestrians and the obnoxious honking of cars in the streets. There was seldom an evening of complete silence. 

Everything was so tightly packed together, within walking distance if you didn’t feel like hopping in a car for a fifteen minute drive. You appreciated the insanity of the train station in the mornings before school, the metro so busy with students and working class individuals. You came into contact with numerous strangers throughout your day to day life. 

However, every summer until you were a senior in high school was a different story. 

Your parents wanted to keep you humble, you supposed, shipping you off to your grandparents’ for three months. Living in the city kept people too sheltered, too primped and polished for the real world. They wanted you to have that exposure, to experience what it was like to live without the fanciness of urbanization. The nine months out of the year that you spent in the city stunted that exposure, though.

When you’d arrive at their farm, luggage stacked like you were taking a trip to London or Paris, you felt like a glorified version of Regina George. Maybe Blair Waldorf. Elle Woods? You weren’t even rich like that. Your parents were nice, middle class people. There was just something about cow manure and the fear of stepping on a freshly laid egg that made it difficult to adjust to the setting.

It was most likely your stubbornness throughout your childhood that held you back even as you got older and more educated. You thought after graduating high school, the three-months-long “retreat” would come to an end. You’d only need to visit when necessary, maybe a week max. And that was true to an extent. During your university years, you only visited the farm around once a year. You were too consumed with school to even go home sometimes. 

And then your grandparents decided to retire. 

Their farm had supplied the town over with produce and other home-grown items for as long as you could remember. But they were getting older and no one in the family was willing to inherit the farm or its responsibilities. In celebration of their retirement, they planned a grand vacation to visit multiple countries. Their itinerary spanned an entire summer, just like your trips to the farm when you were younger.

Because you were the only one familiar enough with the area, they enlisted you to housesit while they were gone. You tried to get out of it, but they didn’t trust anyone else as much as you, despite your convictions about country life. So you reluctantly agreed, packing up your things to prepare for another grueling summer at the farm one last time. 

But there was a bit of a setback.

”What do you mean someone’s living in the farmhouse behind their house?” You shriek into the receiver, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear as you zip up your final bag. Your mom sighs on the other end.

”Your grandma just only now told me, apparently it slipped her mind,” you can hear the sympathy in her tone. “He’s this boy who grew up in the town and he’s gonna take over the farm for them on the condition that they still live on the property. She said he shouldn’t get in your way and he’s expecting your presence. You’ll only see him if you ever actually go out to the farm and when he brings groceries to the house.”

”Great. Another thing I didn’t sign up for.” You mutter, giving your bedroom a once over to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. “Is there anything else I should know before I get there, like a secret pet or maybe a family living in the attic?”

”Watch the attitude, Y/N,” she warns, and you shut up immediately. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. You’re a grown adult and you’d rather spend your summer going out with your friends, but you already told your grandparents you would do this for them. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You sigh, nodding even though she can’t see it. At least you didn’t have to worry about caring for their farm animals. It was time to think of this as a staycation rather than torture. Sure, your friends were going to be living it up in the Bahamas for a week and your boyfriend was going to be here while you were surrounded by nothing but flat landscape for acres. 

Perhaps it was good for you that there would be someone else on the property. You might’ve started to feel scared being alone in the middle of nowhere for so long. Though, your boyfriend probably won’t be the biggest fan of you staying within the vicinity of another man for three months. You’d just deal with that later. 

The drive to your grandparents’ farm is actually more peaceful than anything else. Driving for long periods of time wasn’t your favorite thing to do, but doing it by yourself with nothing but your music filling your ears was a sort of therapy. It allowed you to come to terms with your fate for the summer and what it could entail, even if it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. 

Seeing the lush greenery for miles upon miles as you neared their home evoked a sense of tranquility within you. If you kept a positive outlook on your situation, you would make it through these next few months unscathed and your sanity still intact. Maybe you despised the wide open space for years when you were a kid, but now that you’re an adult, you think you could learn to appreciate it and its beauty. 

As long as the guy living in the farmhouse didn’t bother you like your grandmother said, everything would be—

Oh. 

You pull up in front of the house, already thrown for a loop by the tall, very handsome stranger walking his dog back from the mailbox. His dark hair obscured his eyes, a bandana tied around his neck to match with the one hanging off the Border Collie’s collar. The two turn around at the sound of your engine, stopping in their tracks once you’ve parked. 

He brings a hand up to shield the sun from his eyes, watching cautiously as you park slowly. You don’t know why you’re so anxious, it’s not like you’ll be interacting with him much during your stay anyways. There’s something about his slender figure and the fact that he was so clearly dedicated to what he does upon first glance that it makes you feel shy. You suck in a sharp breath before deciding to exit your vehicle, wiping clammy palms on your denim shorts. You’re starting to regret not dressing a little cuter, a little more presentable. 

His features soften upon recognizing you, the pretty granddaughter that your grandparents showed him prior to leaving for their trip. The hand sheltering his face falls to his side and he gives you a warm smile, somehow warmer and brighter than the sweltering summer sun. You’d always been told not to talk to strangers, to keep your distance for your own safety, but you can’t help mirroring his expression with a small wave. 

“H-Hi,” your voice wobbles and you kind of want to die just a bit. “I’m Y/N. My grandparents mentioned you lived in the farmhouse out back, but didn’t give me a name or face to expect.”

He extends his arm out and you shake his hand, albeit slightly nervously. His eyes squint when he glances between you and his dog. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Yunho, and this is Yeoreum.”

The name is fitting for the red and white colored Border Collie, her tongue sticking out as she stares up at you with big eyes that almost resemble her owner’s. You bend down to pet her, patting the soft tufts of fur on her head and appreciating her licks of excitement. Yunho laughs, whistling to catch her attention. 

“Yunho and Yeoreum,” you repeat, a tiny grin on your face. “Befitting. Does she come with the property?”

“Unfortunately, no. She’s spoken for,” he teases, a pout on his features. “But she can visit whenever you’d like. Jokes aside, did you need any help moving stuff into the house?”

”That would be great, actually!” You scratch the back of your neck, lips pursing. Yunho waits for you to unlock the trunk of your car and places Yeoreum’s leash in your possession, making quick work transporting your bags inside. What was just supposed to be some light assistance, has evidently become him doing everything on his own while you stand and look pretty with his dog.

You didn’t bring too much with you since you didn’t have plans to leave while you were housesitting and your grandparents weren’t so old fashioned that they didn’t have a washing machine. Still, you felt useless allowing this stranger you’d just met to do all this manual labor on your behalf.

”Does he always do this?” You murmur to the Border Collie, falling to a seat on the lowest front porch step. She doesn’t give you a response (not that you expected her to), but pants happily in lieu of one, craning her head so you can scratch the spot behind her ear. 

“You’re a guest, it’s just good hospitality for me to help.” Yunho says as he comes out of the house, stationing himself in front of you with his hands on his hips, thumbs in his belt loops. 

“There’s a difference between helping and doing the work yourself. You’re just being modest,” you push yourself up to hand him Yeoreum’s leash. “But thank you anyway, that was really nice. I’m so tired from driving up here, so I think I would’ve collapsed doing all that back and forth.”

”You should go rest,” he glances at the house behind you. “There’s a whole three months of farm life ahead of you, so don’t wear your pretty little self out just yet.”

Yunho salutes to you and takes his leave, walking around your grandparents’ house toward what you assume is the farmhouse. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks feel hot, and you’re well aware that it’s not because of the summer heat. Your fingers clutch at the material of your t-shirt and you shake it to fan yourself. 

It seemed like you were in for a bumpy ride these next few months. But like you reiterated prior to arriving, everything would be just fine so long as you and farm boy went your separate routes and lived your separate lives. 

Yeah. Things would be alright. You hope. 

It’s a week into your stay on your grandparents’ farm when you bump into Yunho again. 

You’re toweling your neck after getting out of the shower, heading into the kitchen to make yourself another bowl of cereal for breakfast. So far the only downside has been your inability to cook a decent meal. Takeout or your boyfriend sleeping over were usually your saving grace, but without having either of those options, you’ve stuck to microwaveable things.

The sight of Yunho unloading groceries onto the counter has you squealing and nearly jumping out of your own skin. He flinches at your volume, knocking over the bag of rice resting against the vase in the center. Thankfully it was still sealed shut, if not there would’ve been a mess of rice grains all over the island counter. His clumsiness has you slapping a palm over your mouth to silence your giggles, not wanting to embarrass him.

”Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you…” You apologize sheepishly, folding your towel over your arm and placing it on a barstool nearby. 

“N-No, you’re fine! I shouldn’t have just let myself in, it’s kinda just a habit. You deserve your privacy without having to worry about whether or not I’m gonna barge in unannounced.” He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand. “I’ll just put these up for you and then I’ll be on my way.”

”Can I help?” You waddle over to him, fingers laced behind your back. “I’d feel bad watching you put my groceries away for me after going out and getting them.”

Yunho gestures for you to occupy the space beside him with a small smile that takes solace at the corner of his mouth. The two of you do everything in complete silence, still not entirely used to each other’s presence because of the lack of crossing paths. As you’re finishing up, you start grabbing the items you need for your cereal. He raises an eyebrow at you.

”You don’t want something a little more filling?” He suddenly questions, jutting his chin at your bowl.

”I would love that if I knew how to cook,” you laugh. “Ironic isn’t it? The granddaughter of two farmers can’t cook to save their life.”

Yunho shakes his head with a chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Well, I don’t have to feed the horses for another hour if you’d like for me to whip up something better than a bowl of cereal.” 

“Really?” Your eyebrows furrow. Despite growing up with the mindset that you were above the farm life your grandparents tried to impose on you, you hated feeling like you were coming across as entitled. You didn’t want Yunho to think you were lazy or that you were too good. “You don’t have to do that. I can survive on instant ramen and cereal, I swear.”

”Y/N,” he says your name with a certain authority to it, and you’ve never loved the sound of your name coming out of someone else’s mouth so much before. “I want to. I’m not the world’s greatest chef or anything, but I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

”Okay, then,” you nod, taking a seat at the island. You watch in awe as he dances around the kitchen and prepares something for you. It’s weird, not in the sense that you feel awkward around this complete stranger, but because you feel the opposite. You feel comfortable around him, like you’ve known him for a while. It’s almost like Yunho has been a casual part of your life for much longer than a week. He’s easy to get along with, easy to mold into what you’re used to.

And that’s weird because you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who cooks dinner for you most nights, but somehow has never made you feel this taken care of. It throws you off. That should definitely not be the case. How is this man doing this in one week and your boyfriend couldn’t in two years? 

The guilt settles in the pit of your stomach quickly. Sure, your boyfriend might’ve had a habit of forgetting important dates and didn’t give you half as much attention as he should’ve, but did that warrant the emotions brewing in your chest? Could that excuse this notion that maybe it was time to finally call it quits?

You zone out as Yunho finishes cooking your breakfast, too inside of your head to even fawn over the doting and slight coddling he was doing. Maybe you need to have a long conversation with Seojun about your relationship and where you want it to go. Perhaps it was a nice idea to invite him out to visit the farm, it could do you both some good. 

“Ta-da!” Yunho holds out a plate to you, the sparkle in his eyes effectively pushing out any thoughts of your boyfriend and the shame that was picking at you. You can’t help but reciprocate his expression when you see how delicious the food looks.

He’d made you omurice, the ketchup on top in cute squiggly lines to form whiskers and a little dog face. You accept the plate gratifyingly, your fingers brushing as you do so. He smiles shyly, eyeing you carefully while you take the first bite. You don’t remember the last time you had a home cooked breakfast, accustomed to the occasional muffin at the coffee shop near your house.

”’Not the world’s greatest chef’ my ass,” you grumble, pouting at his humbleness and his inability to be bad at anything. “I might just ask you to have breakfast with me every morning if you can chef it up this well.”

That melodic laugh of his rings in your ears, his elbows resting on the island and his chin in his palms. “I’m sure Yeoreum would appreciate a companion who isn’t me.”

“How long have you had her?” You ask, shoveling more omurice into your mouth. If you weren’t so hungry and so appeased by how delicious it was, you’d feel bad for ruining his hard work. The ketchup no longer looked like a dog, but rather a splatter of red all over your plate. 

“Almost four years now. I had her for a year before I met your grandparents. She adores them, so it’s no surprise that she likes you too.” He has this fond gaze in his eyes as he talks about his beloved Border Collie and it makes your heart ache. 

The fact that he has such a good relationship with your grandparents seals the deal for you. Well, it would seal the deal if you were single. Yunho is like the ideal man that every parent would want their daughter to bring home. He knows how to cook, knows how to clean. He’s adept around the house, skilled in yard work and other random jobs like fixing leaky pipes and installing new appliances. He’s gentle, but doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty. 

Your parents would never meet him, though. After the summer was over, you’d be back in Seoul and he would still be here, a distant memory. You forcibly laugh away the thought, excusing it as your response to his words and continuing the conversation about his dog. 

Perhaps this stay would be harder to get through than you thought. 

As the weeks pass you by, you find yourself becoming more and more infatuated with Jeong Yunho.

Cooking breakfast for you in the morning has become a regular thing. Monitoring him at the stove with sleepy eyes and a mug of fresh coffee in your hands has ingrained itself into your routine. Yeoreum called the spot beneath your stool her own now, laying there as her owner made your food. You think the transition from seeing him as just this comforting presence, this kind individual, to wanting something more was almost too smooth.

Especially right now as you sit on the back porch sipping on some lemonade, admiring the cowboy as he transfers bales of hay from the bed of his pickup truck to the pigpen and the cattle pen. He pauses in between trips, stripping off his flannel and tying it around his waist. He lifts the hem of the white tank top he’s wearing and uses it to wipe sweat from his forehead, revealing the toned abdomen he had been hiding from you up until now. 

You feel like you’re going insane, trying to pretend like you’re reading your book as you not so subtly gawk at his muscles straining with each bale he lifts. It’s crazy really, the effect he has on you doing his fucking job. You’ve made it a habit to sit out here and stare at him under the guise of various other things. Aside from being borderline obsessive, it’s horrible because you’re still very much in a relationship.

Most people would feel a hell of a lot worse than you do, like their entire world was crumbling between their fingertips just for finding someone else attractive. But for some reason, as time has continued to roll on, that guilt— that self-preservation— has faded. You’re dipping into another emotion that you’re too scared to explore. 

Yunho takes a break from his labor to guzzle down a bottle of water, his chest heaving up and down from exertion. Had you been paying attention to anything other than the view of the handsome man, you would’ve noticed the glass sliding out of your grasp, the condensation becoming far too dense to keep a solid grip on the cup. In the midst of drooling over him, your lemonade falls to the ground with a loud clanging noise.

Your reflexes are only swift enough to save your book, but the drink spills everywhere else and you wince at how embarrassing the situation is. You hurry inside to grab a towel before he can see the mortification enveloping your features. He seemed like the observant type, like one scan of your face could tell him everything he needs to know without a single word exchanged. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, blowing a raspberry while you attempt to regulate your blood pressure.

Through the window above the kitchen sink, you make out a confused Yunho, brows furrowed as he looks in the direction of the house. He worried over you entirely too much, particularly when you take into account the fact that all you did was think about him in manners not necessarily safe for work. Maybe you were just delirious. That was the only logical explanation for why you’re spiraling.

The high temperatures of the summer coupled with your surroundings are contributing to your change in behavior. Yes. That made sense. You weren’t crazy.

With a bit more reprieve, you’re able to grab a tea towel and head back outside to clean up your mess. (Not unaccompanied by a couple glances in Yunho’s direction, but that’s fine. Perfectly healthy even. It’s normal to check up on a friend. At least, that’s what you tell yourself, but who’s holding you accountable?)

“You know you’ve been making me breakfast every morning without asking for anything in return,” you speak up one morning, chin resting on the island. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?” 

Yunho purses his lips as he hands you your plate. “Nah, I like cooking for you.”

You try to ignore the way that has your heart fluttering in your chest, try to ignore the warmth blooming beneath your skin. Your eyes glance down at your food to avoid eye contact, bringing your chopsticks up to your lips. “Okay, well I wanna do something for you.”

Despite mumbling the words, he hears you anyway and smiles to himself as he takes a sip from his mug. He rolls up the sleeves of his denim button up, reaching down to scratch behind Yeoreum’s ear, the area that you’ve learned is her favorite. She pants joyfully, jumping on his leg excitedly. He looks between the two of you.

”Missy here needs a bath,” he says, cooing at her. “I was gonna give her one later, after I cleaned out the stables, but if you don’t mind doing it.”

”I’d do just about anything for that precious girl,” you nod enthusiastically. “Consider it done.”

This is how you end up out back, dog shampoo in one hand and the water hose in the other. 

Yeoreum’s signature bandana and collar lay on one of the rocking chairs on the porch, the dog looking so different without her accessories as you prepare to bathe her. You wet her fur generously, squeezing enough shampoo into your palm to lather it on. Compared to your childhood pets, she’s pretty well behaved.

She’s probably one of the only dogs who’s ever actually enjoyed taking a bath, sitting still for you while you scrub and rinse and repeat. You take your time with cleaning her, wanting to make sure you do your best as a thank you for every plate Yunho has ever made you. Usually, this isn’t something you would jump at the opportunity to do. Somehow, being back at the farm this past month or so has done everything your parents tried to do when you were younger.

It could’ve had to do with the desensitization of being here every summer for so long that it just never stuck when you were grade school age. But now, fully grown and experiencing this all over again on your own, with new faces at your side, it’s like you’re being exposed to something different. You can see why your mom and dad didn’t want the city life to become a dependency. 

You preferred the view of cabs and cafés over cows and chickens in the past, but now you found a sense of familiarity in them. You’d always want to go home as soon as you got here. Unlike other kids, you wanted your summer to be over as quickly as possible. You couldn’t imagine going home after this, though. This unveiled attachment to the farm you detested when you were younger could only be accredited to one person, and it was a little frightening. 

He constantly brought out parts of you that you didn’t know existed. This enigma, the one that emphasized how big of a role he’s fulfilling in the short period of time you’ve been here, drills itself into your brain every day. You knew you had to acknowledge it sooner or later, but it was just less of a hassle to act like it wasn’t screaming at you. Your fear of change was a more pertinent issue to ignore, so you let it consume all else. 

While getting lost in your thoughts, Yeoreum starts shaking and startles you, causing your hold on the hose to loosen, water spraying everywhere. The diversion has you losing your footing and slipping in the mud. You shriek, though it does nothing to block the stream that drenches you, your clothes getting wet. The universe decides it’s not on your side, because you happened to wear a white shirt. Why you chose to do that when you knew you were bathing a dog, you have no clue, but it was a little too late for regrets.

Yeoreum jumps out of the basin you had her in and runs to the farmhouse just as Yunho’s walking out, fresh from the shower. You forgot that he was cleaning the stables at the same time you were giving the Border Collie her bath, but now you’re starting to wish you waited until afterward just in case you needed the assistance. And well, you definitely needed the assistance. 

Plucking the tail end of the mishap, Yunho’s initial reaction is to laugh at your misfortune, but the closer he gets to the scene, the laughter dies out in his throat. Your top is sheer enough that he can map out the outline of your black bra. It leaves very little to the imagination and he thinks he might fall to his knees right here.

Since your grandparents told him that you’d be house sitting while they were away and proudly showcased a photo of you, he’s been enthralled by you. You had the face of an angel, or maybe a really enticing demon, he hasn’t cogitated it much yet. 

He swallows thickly, hoping to keep his composure as he makes his way to you. His hand is a little shaky when it reaches to take the hose from you, squeezing his eyes closed and switching off the water. He stays there for a few seconds to mentally prep himself for an up-close-and-personal look at you, even going as far as holding his breath. 

“Uh— you— um— you should go inside and dry off before you catch a cold,” Yunho keeps his eyes cast downward. He’s grateful that you don’t note how red the tips of his ears are, or how he thinks the sky is suddenly much more interesting than your face.

Your head cocks to the side in confusion. “What do you mean ‘before I catch a cold’? It’s, like, a million degrees out.” 

“The temperature drops at night and the sun’s setting soon. I’ll handle it from here. Yeoreum ran off, so I gotta chase after her anyway and I don’t think you want her to soak you more than she already has.” He’s insistent on shooing you away and getting you inside of the house. You huff.

”Okay… If you say so…” 

Reluctantly, you spin around and traverse back. The draft of the air conditioning has you shivering, rubbing up and down your arms as you enter the bathroom to inspect the damage. Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when you finally see yourself. No wonder Yunho was so adamant on staving you off like you were the plague. 

In your defense, you didn’t think the hose won the battle by that much. You assumed you’d just gotten everything above your shoulders wet, but no. You were practically doused head to toe. And the clear display of your brassiere under your clothes was the last thing on your mind.

He was stronger than you. Actually, he was a more respectful person than you. You would’ve gawked at him shamelessly if the roles were reversed. But at least you’re self aware! Right? The first step in recognizing that you have a problem, is admitting that you have a problem. That’s what you think they say in those addiction commercials, but you could be wrong. 

Wow. Now you were comparing him to drugs. Though, you suppose there isn’t that huge of a difference. Both had equal success rates in terms of getting people high and then making it hard to wane off their effects. 

You really had to quit it with the metaphor usage. 

It’s around midnight that night when the lightbulb in the bathroom goes out, halting you from finishing your bedtime routine. 

You’re exhausted to say the least, face damp from washing it and one of those fuzzy hairbands with the animal ears perched on your head. You were ready to crash out, but there were still a couple things you needed to do before that. It was proving to be a little difficult in the pitch black bathroom. The window above the shower was too narrow to provide any sufficient moonlight.

With a low grumble, you shuffle into your slippers and make the short trek from your grandparents’ house to Yunho in the farmhouse. You hug yourself when a strong breeze blows past, your flimsy t-shirt and sleep shorts doing hardly anything to block the cool summer night’s air. 

A piece of you feels a little bad for bothering him so late, but you have no idea how to change a lightbulb. You don’t even know where the lightbulbs are. Besides, you think you’d electrocute yourself if you made an attempt to do it on your own. 

You huff out a sigh and bring your knuckles up to knock at his door, waiting patiently for a response. He’s not asleep, you know this because he’s mentioned that his internal clock doesn’t turn off until two in the morning. Circadian rhythms were an odd concept, so to each their own. 

“Yunho! It’s Y/N! Open up!”

When a few minutes have passed, you try the knob. Maybe it was a bit… too presumptuous of you to enter his home without explicit permission. Yes, you’d known each other for the better part of a month and a half, and yes, you’d gotten very close in that timeframe, but did that constitute your actions?

Whether or not the answer to that question was a yes or a no, you really wish you would’ve just waited outside. As you venture further in search of the cowboy, you stumble upon something you shouldn’t have. 

Standing in the hallway on the other side of his bedroom, the door ajar at least an inch, you catch a glimpse of him on his bed. That white tank top you’re so used to seeing him in is between his teeth, eyebrows knit together in pure pleasure as he fists his cock with a purpose. His nostrils are flared and whiny moans escape from behind the fabric. 

His head falls back every now and then, eyes fluttering shut when he runs his thumb over the slit. He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice you, too entranced with chasing his high. Your lips part as you watch him fuck up into his hand, his shirt slipping from his mouth when he groans out a curse. 

Just as quickly as you become distracted by the sight of Yunho jerking off, you become aware of what you’re doing. You flee the scene before you get yourself caught, exiting the farmhouse as quietly as you can. The lightbulb can wait until morning, it wasn’t that important, honestly. You’re in a daze the entire walk back to your grandparents house, goosebumps littering your arms and the image of him in such an obscene state burned into your brain. 

You fall backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling in hopes of willing away the path your mind is beginning to wander towards. All you can think about is the sight of him so desperate for release, large hand wrapped around his dick, abdomen contracting with need. You know you weren’t supposed to see, weren’t supposed to bear witness to something so personal. 

It’s difficult to push out the nasty, inappropriate thoughts clouding your head. His expressions contorted into absolute bliss. His slender fingers could probably do so much more than your own, could probably reach places you’d never even dreamed of. And fuck, his dick, prettier and bigger than any other you’ve ever seen. 

Your chest blushes with heat, an embarrassment washing over you when you realize you’re turned on. You should feel terrible for intruding on Yunho’s privacy like that, especially without him knowing, but all you can do is want him more than you already do. That craving for something deeper, carnal, fans the flame engulfing you, dragging you further into the sick and twisted hell you’ve created for yourself. 

Yunho has been nothing but welcoming, kind and gentle with you, someone he didn’t even know the name of until last month. Someone who’s done everything in their power to repress this lifestyle for so long. And for some reason, it just comes so easily with him. You don’t feel forced to enjoy living on the farm. He makes you laugh and puts a smile on your face effortlessly. He has you wondering if life can actually be this simple. 

But when all is said and done, there will be somebody else waiting for you back home. Somebody who doesn’t know how to whip up omurice with freshly laid eggs. Somebody who isn’t even a dog person, who thinks pets are nuisances. Somebody who doesn’t live in the farmhouse behind your grandparents’. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

If you touch yourself with tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought of the man who has eyes that resemble the night sky, well that’s between you and whatever higher being exists out there. 

You sit across from Yunho with bated breath, afraid that if you opened your mouth he would know your dirty secret. You avoid his eyes for the same reason, like one good look at you would reveal what you were trying to hide. 

Yunho himself was doing his best to pretend like he hadn’t masturbated to the thought of you last night. He liked to think he was good at keeping his feelings under wraps. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you were in a relationship, he’s heard you on the phone before. He stays silent as he fries rice in a pan and has some bread in the toaster. The only sounds in the kitchen are sizzling and the pants coming from Yeoreum under your stool. 

In the time that you’ve been here, never once has it been awkward between you like this. The conversation usually doesn’t stop flowing, rolling on and on and filtering into things that don’t pertain to the original subject. He rarely has his back to you for too long, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a grin every here and now. 

Both of you go to speak at the same time as a means of salvaging the morning from eternal strain. You stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Truly, you were two birds of a feather, or however that saying goes.

”Sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so quiet today,” Yunho says, though he knows it’s a lie. “I guess I had a long night.”

”Oh, that reminds me,” his mention of the previous night has you recalling the reason you went out to the farmhouse in the first place. “The light in my bathroom went out, do you think you can fix it for me?” 

“Yeah, for sure,” he begins preparing your plate. “Actually, I have this joke about lightbulbs. You wanna hear it?”

Your lips curl into a smile, already attempting to hold back your laughter. With a raised eyebrow, you respond, “What is it?”

”What did the lightbulb say to the light switch?” He asks nonchalantly, taking a bite from his own piece of toast. You’re failing miserably at acting like you don’t think the joke is funny, although he hasn’t even told you the punchline yet.

”I dunno, Yunho, what did the lightbulb say to the light switch?” 

“‘You turn me on.’” 

There’s a pregnant pause as the joke resonates and you can’t stop yourself from cackling at how stupid it is. He joins in, but mostly because your laughter is contagious. His chest swells with pride at his successful landing, feeling like he’s on top of the world just for bringing a smile to your face. God, he was down tremendously bad. 

Your spoon clatters onto the counter as you lean over, a hand clapped over your mouth as your boisterous laughing simmers into a giggle. Yunho leans into you slightly, matching your energy as he munches on his toast. This is what has you conflicted, so at war with yourself. The proximity should have you pulling away, but something about him always reels you in, despite the consequences that await.

And unfortunately, those consequences come to a head today.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N?” 

You and Yunho jump back, whipping towards the source of the voice. Seojun stands there, his bags at his feet and his face crestfallen, disbelief written all over it. He shakes his head and turns to leave, you stumbling off of the barstool to follow behind him. The guilt you’ve only ever felt momentarily settles deep in your chest and deep in your stomach, though you technically haven’t done anything wrong.

Your abruptness startles Yeoreum and she’s up in a heartbeat, tailing behind you curiously. Yunho has to rush to stop her, but a part of himself wants to do the same. No matter how much he likes you, he’s never wanted to be the cause of your relationship falling apart. He wanted you organically, not like this.

”Seojun! Wait!” You call after him, holding up a hand to block out the harsh sunlight, tripping over your slippers. He scoffs. 

“What am I waiting for? You to spew some bullshit about how nothing’s going on between the two of you? I’m not fucking stupid, Y/N. I’m not blind.” He pops open his trunk and throws his bags in haphazardly.

”You’re being unreasonable,” you exclaim, rounding the car so you’re directly in front of him. “There is nothing going on. We’ve just gotten to know each other since we live in the same vicinity. Did you want me to stay here for three months and hole myself away with no other human contact?”

“He was just supposed to be the guy who lived in the farmhouse. He wasn’t supposed to bother you. That’s what you told me, remember?” Seojun is losing his patience, something that has always been the root of the problem when you’ve gotten into past arguments. “How do you expect me to react when I come to surprise you and see you being so close to another man?”

“I was laughing at a joke he told me. You’re making this a bigger deal than it is and blowing everything completely out of proportion. I’m sorry that it never came up that we became friends, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve never once cheated on you in the three years we’ve been together and for you to accuse me of that is so fucking low of you.” You’re not going to cry, not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s won. He thrives off of seeing your vulnerability and you won’t let him have it. 

“I saw the way he was looking at you,” he seethes, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I know that look because that’s how I used to look at you.”

A laugh devoid of any humor leaves you and he blinks. “That’s how you ‘used to’ look at me? When did you stop? And why am I just finding this out?”

”That’s not— that isn’t what I meant, Y/N—“

”No, Seojun. You did,” you glance away from him, nipping at the inside of your cheek. “We’re grasping for straws. We aren’t going anywhere anymore and we haven’t for a while now. That’s why we're standing here arguing over this. I just want to know why you didn’t just tell me.”

”I’m too complacent,” he sighs, breathing through his nose. “I was too comfortable with you and I didn’t know how to let you go or walk away. But you’re right, there isn’t anything for us to save, and it seems like we’re both ready to move on.”

“What does that mean?” 

“I saw how you were looking at him, too. You might not have acted on it, but you have feelings for him. I’m not gonna stay and hold you back.” Seojun unlocks his car, opening the door. “And for what it’s worth, you won’t be wasting your time.”

You don’t respond, instead humming and letting him drive off. Once his car is far enough out of your view, you go back into the house. There’s an indescribable emotion that hostages you, binding your wrists and tying you down metaphorically. You can’t seem to shake it. 

Yunho is still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with Yeoreum to keep her calm. He gazes up at you expectantly and you feel the tears you were suppressing from Seojun bubbling up. If you weren’t going to cry in front of your (now ex) boyfriend, you definitely weren’t going to cry in front of him. 

With a trembling exhale, you force yourself to say, “I need to be alone.”

He understands empathetically, clipping on Yeoreum’s leash and leaving the house in the same breath. That in itself has you crying like a baby the moment you’re all by yourself. You hold your face in your hands, body shuddering with each sob you release. 

I saw the way he was looking at you. 

I saw how you were looking at him, too. 

You had a lot to think about, and everything always seemed to circle back to Jeong Yunho. 

A couple days escape you before you register you haven’t seen much of Yunho. After your breakup with Seojun, you really did need a bit of room to process it all, but you hadn’t realized just how much you depended on the cowboy’s presence until you were missing it. 

You hadn’t meant to push him away, if that’s how he saw it. A night of bawling your eyes out with a pint of ice cream and The Vow was enough to cure you. However, it appears that he thought you needed more, going as far as putting a pin in your daily breakfast ritual. You aren’t sure how to extend an olive branch when you weren’t even trying to cause a rift between you in the first place. 

Being with someone for three years may not seem like a lot, but that fraction of your life is stuck with you, like a thumbtack that refuses to come out of the wall. You’d had boyfriends before Seojun, but they weren’t nearly as serious. There weren't formal introductions between parents, no late night conversations that bleed into early mornings, no sleepovers and quick kisses before work. 

Of course, after a certain point, those had just become habitual. You weren’t doing them because they evoked a sense of love or care anymore, but rather because you were familiar with them. It was safer to continue the pattern of waking up and falling asleep to Seojun on the other side of the bed, the intrusion of sunlight and the cacophony of traffic outside your window, even if you didn’t really want to. 

And then you came here. 

Somehow, returning to your grandparents’ farm was exactly what you needed to break through that cycle. As much as you would love to attest it to your location and discovering the appreciation your family wanted you to feel for it, you know the real reason. It’s all thanks to a certain cowboy.

Yunho’s feelings for you run far deeper than he could’ve imagined. He doesn’t know the extent of what happened with you and Seojun, but he thinks putting distance between you is better in the long run anyway. On the off chance you’re still together, he wants to preserve his heart. He’s handed it to someone else too easily in the past and he doesn’t want to make that mistake with you if you don’t feel the same. 

But even on the off chance that you’ve broken up, he still wants to stop himself from falling further and harder than he already has. Without ill will, he doubts that you would give up the life you have in the city for this, for him. He’ll be perpetually chained to being a faint imprint on your memory of the summer. You’ll think back to the months you spent here and he’ll have played only a minor role. 

It was wishful thinking, too hopeful of him to presume this would lead to a happy ending. You were from different worlds, led different lives. It was time for him to be realistic. And that meant implementing the space that was supposed to exist between you from the get go. 

Though, you make it difficult when he bumps into you on the way back from the mailbox. Déjà vu, anyone?

Yeoreum is excited to see you, jumping onto her haunches to lick your face when you kneel to her level. You giggle, squeezing one eye shut as you balance yourself and hold her still so her weight doesn’t clamber you both onto the ground. Your fingers pet to top of her head softly as you coo, “Who’s a good girl?”

Yunho physically winces when his chest tightens at the sight of his two favorite girls. The word ‘distance’ bounces around his head like a pinball, reminding him what he’s supposed to be doing. He just can’t bring himself to walk away. Especially when you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours. 

“Hey…” You start, steeling your tone to ensure it’s even. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you or something. I needed some time to myself to figure things out. It wasn’t my intention to shut you out and put you on the back burner.”

”No, it’s okay. I had to figure stuff out on my own, too,” he uses his bandana to dab at the sweat perspiring on his forehead. “Did you sort through whatever you needed to?”

“I did,” you nod, standing upright. “Seojun and I broke up, so I had to sit with my feelings for a bit. We’ve been together for so long, I think I needed to remember what it was like to be without him, and then I realized that’s basically what I’ve been doing since I came here.”

”Oh.” Yunho’s lips form an ‘O’ shape, hands dragging down the sides of his pants. “I’m sorry— um— about your breakup.”

”Don’t be,” you smile, dismissing his sympathy. “It was a long time coming, honestly. We weren’t really in the relationship wholeheartedly anymore. There wasn’t a point in stringing it along, you know? But that’s enough about me, did you figure your own things out?”

”I thought I did,” he says, which is true considering he’d been mulling over what to do with his emotions subsequent to your argument with your ex. “And then I kinda steered off course. It’s alright, though, I think I like the new conclusion I’ve come to a lot better.”

You might be on the same page now, but there was an entire discussion that had to happen to solidify that. Following a very emotionally charged past couple days, you could do without that today. You’re both just glad that the air is cleared and you can resume building the bond that began forming the moment you stepped foot onto the farm, no restrictions whatsoever.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?” 

You glance up from your book, this time genuinely reading it as Yunho fed the chickens and cleaned up their coop. He towers over you while he asks the question, his shadow thwarting off any direct sunlight. Your nose scrunches. 

“When I was in, like, middle school? It’s been a minute,” you answer, making sure to bookmark the page you stopped at. “Why?

”Would you let me teach you how to do it again?” He nips at his lower lip, like he’s nervous you’ll say no. The truth of the matter is you’d say yes even if he asked you to commit arson, which is kind of a problem.

“That sounds fun,” you shrug. “What time should I be ready?”

”Uh, now?” 

Okay, so sitting on a horse did not seem this scary when you were twelve.

It probably had to do with you being fearless and whatnot, but also because you did whatever your grandparents asked just to appease them. The faster you got off the damn horse, the faster you could go back inside and situate yourself in front of the TV. They thought they were making progress with you, but really you were outsmarting the outsmarters. 

Sweat glazes on the underside of your hands, disrupting the security of your grasp on the reins. Yunho thought it would be wiser if he stayed on foot, guiding you and the horse around the perimeter of the pen. You hoped you didn’t look as afraid as you were, but you’re certain the slight quiver of your bottom lip gives it away. 

“You’re doing fine, Y/N,” he reassures, maintaining a comforting amount of eye contact with you.

”Am I? Or does it just seem that way because you’re pulling the horse?” You quip, gripping the reins tighter when it steps over a rock and you sway a little. Your tone is laced with sarcasm, something Yunho hasn’t heard much of from you since you’ve met, but he thinks it’s cute that you resort to violence when you’re scared.

You notice the quirk of his mouth and how he’s trying not to laugh at your terror. It pisses you off solely because his humor isn’t unwarranted. You are being a bit over dramatic. He unties his bandana from around his neck and tosses it to you. “So you don’t callus your hands.”

He’s too thoughtful, too considerate for his own good, but that’s what roped you in. Even when you met for the first time, he had you figured out. The longer you stare at him, the more you realize just how perfect he is. If you were still in school and you were tasked with writing an essay about the summer you spent here, you’re sure the words would flow onto the pages flawlessly, without skipping a beat. Your prose would be so beautifully written, that even the most notable authors would be envious of your experience.

The only downside of this was the fact that time was beginning to seep through your fingers. There was mutuality in your feelings for each other, that was almost unequivocal. You were both just hesitant in taking that first leap. The uncertainty lied with that goodbye at the end of August, the one that’ll hurt a lot more than it was supposed to. But you know that postponing your unceremonious declaration of feelings would just do more harm than anything else. 

One consistency you’ve singled out since coming back to the farm is this common theme of divine intervention, or fate, whatever you want to call it. Right when you’re on the brink of an epiphany, you’re always forcefully shoved into it, like a freight train crashing into its platform traveling at full speed. This moment is no different. 

Yeoreum barking at a squirrel on the other side of the pen scares the horse who’s back you were currently on. It bucks up and you release the reins in alarm. You fall quickly, but Yunho’s quicker, catching you in his arms like it’s been a childhood dream of his to be a superhero. He searches your face for any indication that you might be hurt, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. 

The eyes you’ve grown to adore examine your own with so much care that you find yourself melting in his hold. Your face instinctively leans into his palm, fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt like he may drop you. 

It’s nearly second-nature to minimize the gap between you. 

You never understood what novelists meant when they described kissing scenes. And you think that’s because you’d never truly had a kiss like this before. It was as if they were all talking about this second, this blip in time. The sparks that shoot from where your lips meet to the tips of your fingers, the thump-thump-thump of your heartbeat in your ears, the sensation of never wanting to escape, never wanting to stop. 

Yunho’s hand snakes behind your head, tangling in your hair to deepen the connection. It’s hungry. It’s desperate. It’s too much. It’s not enough. Everything that had been stacking on top of each other was leading to this, the collision that rivaled the Big Bang. You whine into his lips, an invitation but also an inquiry. 

He parts from you just so he can catch his breath, his forehead resting on yours. “Can I take you inside?”

You nod fervently. “Yes. Please.”

He wastes no time hauling you to the farmhouse. His grip on your wrist is gentle as he pulls you into his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and trapping you between his legs. Your restraint wears thin, nimble fingers fumbling with the rest of the buttons on his denim shirt. You push it off of his shoulders, a bit shell shocked when you discover that he’s wearing a regular t-shirt as opposed to his usual tank top. 

“You would pull something like this today of all days,” you laugh breathily, untucking the shirt from his pants. He reciprocates the sentiment, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck while you undress him. 

“Is it evil of me to say I was sorta hoping this would happen?” He speaks into your exposed collarbone, nipping, sucking, biting the skin. Your appreciative sigh goads him, his tongue gliding across the abused surface as a form of relief. 

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head, fast to yank off his shirt and run your nails down his abdomen. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

“Yeah?” Yunho flips the two of you easily so you’re the one on the bed now. He pushes up the hem of your shirt, pecking your stomach to your clavicle as he shows more and more of your skin until the fabric is removed from your body. “Can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

You involuntarily moan, completely untouched and because of his words alone. Every part of you feels like it’s lit ablaze, burning with want and need and everything in between. This ran further than just what-ifs and late night fantasies. Your relationship with Yunho tiptoed on the edge of something you’ve never known before, and that makes this so much more special. 

He glances up at you when his fingers reach for the button of your shorts, a silent ask for permission. You give him the green light and hold yourself up on your elbows, watching with your breathing trapped in your throat as he rids of your panties along with them. His hands push your knees to your chest, kissing your inner thighs and right around the place you need him most, but never there. 

“Yunho…” You warn, but it comes across as a broken whimper rather than an establishment of authority. He laughs and then his lips are pressing to your clit, a sweet kiss that has all rationality taking a vacation from your brain. Your head tips back and you fist at the sheets. 

He drags his tongue through your folds, swirling it around the sensitive bundle of nerves each time it makes its return. It’s almost criminal how good it feels to have his mouth on your cunt, eyes already heavy lidded with pleasure. He sucks on your clit at the same time he decides to insert a finger into your entrance, curling it experimentally just because he can. Like you predicted, it reaches that spongy spot at the crook of your pussy, brushing it once he’s sure he’s found it. 

While you walked in on him fucking his fist, the only thing on his mind was you. He was so absorbed in the mental image of what you would look like beneath him, wiggling, writhing, squirming with indulgence. His social awareness was at a zero. This replayed over and over until he came, his thoughts so vivid he could’ve swore it was real.

But this, the actual thing, was so much better; his forearm pinning your hips down, his middle finger curling and uncurling inside of you, his mouth working overtime to inch you towards the edge of that steep cliff. He moans when your eyebrows practically coalesce, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. You look so gorgeous like this, so disoriented all because of the bliss he was providing. The vibrations of the sound have you arching your back, uncontrollable whines running from your mouth.

“Feel good?” Yunho asks, disconnecting his mouth and replacing it with his other hand, ring and middle digits swiping across your clit with practiced pressure. 

“Mhm,” you nod frantically, eyes on the brink of rolling to the back of your head. “Feels so good, Yun… Just like that, ‘m almost there.”

That’s all he needs to hear, switching his hand and mouth once again, focusing on alternating harsh and gentle sucks of your clit, adding a second finger to pump in and out of your hole. The doubled change in stimulation knocks the wind out of you, the precipice of your orgasm so close you can taste it. You’d never been brought to the summit this early in the past, and you think Yunho deserves some sort of reward for being the first to do so.

You’d worry about that later though, because you’re blindsided by it before you can even conjure your next thought. You cum with a cry, tears springing to your eyes from the immense amount of ecstasy coursing through your veins, swimming in your bloodstream. Yunho coos at you, not stopping until you’ve relaxed in his hold. “That’s it, baby, you’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your head feel airy, like empty space unoccupied by anything. If you paid attention in chemistry, then you’d know that’s highly impossible, but you didn’t. The only chemistry you even remotely care about is the one between you and Yunho, the tension that has piled higher and higher for days on end until its crescendo now. 

You sit up to kiss him roughly, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. He smiles into it, a hand raising to caress the underside of your jaw. He climbs onto the bed, scooting you up so you’re positioned by the pillows. It doesn’t take much effort for your bodies to swap, his back to the headboard. You clumsily seat yourself on his lap, a knee on either side of him and sighing wistfully when his mouth trails down your throat and sternum, slender fingers sneaking behind you to unclasp your bra.

He aids you in removing his pants, still simultaneously prioritizing kisses all over your bare chest. When you’re both fully naked, you take your time admiring his cock. It’s just as pretty as you remember, long and thick. Your hand wraps around it gingerly, stroking the length as you lean down to kiss him again. You don’t think you could ever get enough of his lips on your own. 

“I’m not exactly getting any action over here, so I don’t have any condoms,” he says into your kiss, voice no louder than a whisper. 

“That’s okay,” you run your fingers through his hair. “Wanna feel you anyways, all of you.”

”Fuck, Y/N, you can kill a man with those words.” He groans, nails digging into your hips. You giggle, but it’s interrupted by him sitting you fully, his dick slipping through your lower lips. A whine brushes his ear when the tip catches your clit, repeating the movement until you can’t stay still.

The closest you’ll ever get to Heaven on earth is Yunho’s cock pushing inside of you, filling you up so deliciously you think you could die like this. Your jaw slackens, hands coming up to support yourself on his shoulders. Even if this is a one time thing, something that never happens again during your stay at the farm, he wants you to remember this when you go back home. He wants you to recall this sliver in your timeline and never forget it, wants his name engraved in your memory like a branding iron.

Once he feels you’ve adjusted to him well enough, he pulls you off of him almost entirely, just to ram back in without mercy. He punches a voluminous moan from you, eyes watching where he disappears in you and reemerges. You’re tighter and so much warmer than he dreamed you’d be, but it’s perfect. You suck him in like a vacuum, as if his cock was made to be inside of you, as if you didn’t want him to part from you.

“You’re s-so deep, Yun,” you mewl, pulling him in for another headache-inducing kiss. “Don’t wanna stop.”

He exhales through his nostrils, mumbling out a curse when your walls squeeze around him. He wanted to last a while for you, wanted to hold out and prolong this moment until you were both on the crest of passing out. But you feel like a glove, your silk-adjacent cunt begging for more and more. 

“Think I might cum soon, princess,” he groans, tossing his head back and just about losing every ounce of his sanity when your lips start marking the column of his throat. 

His big hands move under your thighs, holding you in place so he can fuck up into you. The pace at which his cock drills in and out of your pussy has you seeing stars, eyes snapping shut and nothing but colorful spots decorating your vision. You were already abhorrently sensitive following your first orgasm, so it didn’t really take much to introduce the second. 

Your hips stutter and it washes over you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering and collapsing into his top half. He pulls out of you quickly, mouth stationed by your ear as he jerks himself off until he’s painting your backside. He moans, a lot like the sounds he was making the other night, and you feel the need to just kiss him again. 

Your lips lock sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous actions. Yunho curves a hand on your cheek, seperating from you the smallest distance so he can admire you. The smile that etches onto his expression makes you dizzier than anything else. However, the cutesiness can only span so long before the setting gives way. 

Yunho’s hand snakes in between you, his forefinger sliding up and down your slit teasingly. Your breath comes out shaky, your face finding purchase in the crook of his neck. He replaces the digit with his middle finger, parting your pussy lips in search of your clit. It doesn’t take him very long to find it, rubbing tight circles into the engorged skin. You moan into his shoulder, resting your forehead on it to see the way he works your cunt. 

“You’re so wet, baby. Have I not fucked you enough?” He whispers into your ear huskily. Yunho talking dirty to you is something you didn’t know you needed in your life. His finger slips downward, thrusting up into your hole with ease. He keeps massaging your clit with his palm, the stimulation making your head woozy.

“Mmmph— Yun, god. Feels too good.” You whine, gyrating your hips on his hand. 

“Is that right, babe?” He encourages, adding a second finger and increasing the speed of their thrusts, almost like you hadn’t been in this position already. “I can’t wait to feel this tight little pussy around my cock again. Gonna fuck you harder than the last.”

Your whimpers raise in volume, focusing on the way he curls his digits in you, applying pressure with the heel of his palm to the circles he’s rubbing into your clit. You can sense your third orgasm approaching, warmth flooding your cheeks at how embarrassingly fast he worked you back up. Your walls clench around his fingers, alerting him of how close you are. He pauses, worming his body down so his face is eye level with your cunt again.

Yunho does the whole teasing thing a second time, kissing and suckling the hot skin of your belly, knowingly denying you of your release. You grab a handful of his hair, tugging at the ends to spur him on. He groans, giving into you and licking a straight line up your slit. He inserts both fingers again, this time using his tongue to manipulate your swollen clit.

The heat of Yunho’s mouth makes your insides ache, the necessity to cum intensifying. You keen loudly, desperately, needily, the sight of the brunette between your legs so incredibly arousing. He sucks on your throbbing clit, his long fingers as deep as they can go, and you crumble. 

“Oh my god— oh my god— I’m cumming! I’m—” You cut yourself off, convulsing under him. He laps up as much of your juices as he can, coating his chin with your release. You moan as you pull him towards you to unify your lips, a mixture of your saliva and cum connect your mouths in strings. At this point, the sex is messier than anything you could’ve plucked from your wildest dreams. 

One hand trails down your body, using your nimble fingers to play with your sensitive clit when he starts fisting his cock in preparation to enter your pussy again. You use your free hand to scratch at his contracting abs. He hisses, propping himself up with one arm next to your head and his eyes trained on the way you finger yourself at the same time. You can feel his breath on your cheeks and being in this proximity to him fuels your yearning.

“Please, Yun… Need you back inside of me,” you whimper. Rubbing your clit with your own fingers isn’t satisfying enough, not with him here in front of you, not when you know how good he can make you feel.

“Fuck, baby, when you beg like that I don’t know if I can hold back.” He chuckles lowly. It rumbles from his chest, shooting to your core. 

“So don’t,” you rouse. “This is more than just a one time thing for me, Yunho.”

His eyes widen just a bit, your confession catching him off guard. That’s all he needs to line himself up with your hole, hooking his forearm under your knee as he slides in, stretching your cunt so perfectly with his perfect cock. “Shit— you’re so tight, princess… It’s almost like I didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life.” He moans and spreads your legs wider. He bottoms out with a grunt, throwing his head back from the feeling of your velvety walls. A near deafening cry is ripped from your vocal cords. He nips at your neck, starting to piston his hips. 

His thrusts don’t slow but become calculated, speeding up and diving deep simultaneously. It only took a short amount of time to figure out what you liked and he used it to his advantage. Yunho hikes your knee to your chest, groping your tits with his free hand. He twists and tugs at your nipples just hard enough that it contributes to your pleasure rather than hurts you.

It’s as if he doesn’t feel buried inside of you sufficiently, because he decreases his pace to press and fold your other leg up, his hips ramming into your ass with each thrust now. The tip of his cock kisses at what feels like your cervix. That familiar coil begins to fasten again, keening with every drive into your cunt. The squelching noises would’ve made you cower in shame with anyone else, but with Yunho it turns you on further.

You moan, and he flattens his hand on the lower part of your stomach. Yunho groans, biting the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Your fingers find your clit again, circling insatiably to get yourself off. 

“You gonna cum for me again?” He rasps, his hold on your legs almost painful. The backs of your thighs burn, but you endure it for the sake of the moment. You reach up and behind yourself, grabbing at the headboard in an attempt to match his force. 

“Oh my god, yes— yes yes yes yes,” you babble, the syllables blurring together like your mind. “Gonna cum so hard for you, Yunho. Keep going, please.”

His lips attach to yours, tongues tangling sloppily. The position you’re in is on the opposite end of the spectrum from how you were expecting this summer reunion to go. Had you not been made aware of Yunho living here at the last minute, you probably would’ve backed out of your commitment to staying. Deep down you’re a little too thankful that your grandmother mentioned him when it was too late to reconsider. 

“I think I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Yunho whispers into your mouth. 

You let go of the headboard, cupping his jaw and kissing him lovingly. “Me too.”

Your fingers speed up and so do his thrusts, perfectly timed with each other to shove you both towards your highs. You’re on the cusp of falling apart, arching into him to close the gap between your bodies. 

“Wanna cum inside you. Can I?” Yunho grunts. 

“Yes yes, please. Fill me up, Yun, want all of you.” 

He continues to abuse your cunt, pounding into you like his life depended on it. You sob, clamping your walls around him. He freezes, suddenly spilling into you. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock.” The warmth of his release and his words coax your orgasm, the fluttering of your cunt milking every single drop from him that it can. Even with his dick plugging you up, you can feel it dripping out of you and onto the sheets below. 

He rocks into you languidly until you’ve calmed down enough for him to pull out. His forehead is flush on your chest, rising and falling with it, both of you so spent from the intense physical activity you engaged in. You stare up at the ceiling with heavy eyelids, carding your fingers through his hair to soothe him. 

“You meant what you said right? About this not being a one time thing.” Yunho says hesitantly, like he’s afraid of permeating the atmosphere you created. 

“I don’t think I can go home at the end of the summer and forget the way I feel for you, Yunho.” You admit out loud. There had been a constant struggle in your head over whether or not to follow your heart, but as he looks at you with those sparkly eyes of his, you know your answer. And you feel a little stupid for ever considering the counter. 

“And what exactly are those feelings?” He pushes, folding his hands on your sternum and laying his cheek on top. You giggle, brushing his hair out of his view. As tempting as it was to divulge your theatrical journey in assessing your emotions, you’re too exhausted to stay awake. It would have to wait for another day. 

“You have the rest of the summer to find out, cowboy.”

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost. 

[covetyou]

ghosted

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (satisfyer "glowing ghost"), unprotected P in V, creampie, oral (f receiving), reader loves floor time (so does Joel), angst (but we fix it), some anxiety/depression adjacent things. word count: 5751 summary: As spring moves into summer, the only thing you're wishing for is to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on. But, by the time the end of May is on the horizon, the time between still isn't enough - You haven't forgotten, and you haven't moved on.

A/N: thank you to everyone still sticking with this sporadic-installment-series-that-was-never-meant-to-be-a-series. our next visit to these two will be 4th July in stars and stripes, but until then, enjoy 💛

(and yes I know I am technically later than planned with this for non Americas folk - I couldn't get the ending to my liking until suddenly I could, and now its gone midnight. whoops!)

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

If it was true that time flies when you're having fun, it was safe to say the opposite was true too.

You weren't having fun, and time was well and truly crawling by at a snails pace.

That wasn't for lack of trying. In recent weeks you'd spent more time out of the house than you ever had - lunch with friends, drinks with colleagues, solo trips to bookstores and farmers markets. There was barely a moment of time you hadn't filled with something.

It was probably a shitty coping mechanism, all things considered, but it was the best you had. You couldn't quite bring yourself to confide in anyone your secret shame of letting a stranger into your house and touch you like he belonged there. The even bigger shame of living in a place for so very long and not knowing how the door worked, not knowing the stranger was your neighbor, being so very consumed in your own life - woe is you - that you didn't bother paying attention to the lives of the people around you. So, you kept on willing the passage of time, and filling every moment you could with distractions.

It wasn't that you were usually one for wishing time away. A slow, warm spring before the blazing heat of summer consumed everything would usually be a good thing - even better now that you'd lived and experienced your first Texas summer and were soon to have your second.

What you were really wishing for was to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on.

As it was, by the time the end of May was on the horizon, the time between still wasn't enough. Almost two months to the day, and it still ached and burned in you just as much as it always had, if not more. The embarrassment and shame of not knowing how to work a fucking lock was one thing, the fear of the danger you'd put yourself in was another. Then there was the sadness, the loss, the unexpected emptiness at losing something you weren't even sure you had to begin with. And then, in more recent weeks, was the longing.

And you didn't want to feel any of it.

When Memorial Day Weekend eventually rolls around, the blossoming heat of summer keeping you indoors, you lie there on your living room floor, a fan blowing not quite cool enough air across your sweaty body until a knock at the door disturbs the patterns your eyes were tracing on the ceiling.

The dimness in your vision doesn't go away, even as you blink away the dust and try to get your eyes to adjust. The sun had set, apparently. It wasn't completely dark just yet, but dark enough to cast the lower level of your home in shadow, and you hadn't even noticed. You technically had plans today - plans that had now gone to shit, much like everything else.

Hauling yourself from the ground, you unlock your door, no thought or care of who could be on the other side of it, because one thing was certain - it wouldn't be Joel. You'd lost hope of that weeks ago. Each time you opened it with a fools hope in your mind, you were instead handed a delivery and told to have a good day as you stared out into the street, disappointed that it was only a clitty-blaster-3000, or a new blender, and not Joel.

You mindlessly pull open the door, expecting to be handed a package you hadn't ordered, or to even see a friendly face coming to pull you out for plans you agreed to but didn't really want to do.

But there he is. Two months later - but not too late, you don't think - and entirely out of the blue. Nervous hands are thrust into his pockets with his thumbs twitching on the outside of his jeans, standing there like he didn't belong here at all, when everything in your body was screaming he's home.

This was far from the first time you'd seen him since March. The first time was barely three days after you pushed him away. April Fools' Day, of all days. Fitting, you thought, given how much of a fucking fool you felt whenever you remembered everything you'd done, and said, and felt. It turns out he was the owner of the truck you'd seen parked in a drive a little way down the street, father to the little girl you'd seen bounding out of that house so many times before. Neither thing made the hurt in your chest any less, and you'd driven past with a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes.

The same happens now, but you fight them back so you can see more clearly as his mouth twitches into a small smile, making you freeze on the spot. Your mind was already blank, but that freezes too, and you stare at him dumbstruck for a moment so long you're certain a flicker of concern dances across his eyes.

And you could close the door in his face, push him out and away just like you did on that day over two months ago, but you don't. As you come back around, finally letting your brain reconnect with the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is relief and total utter joy at getting to see him up close again.

There's still shame too. That's been simmering low and mellow in you for so long now that it's fused with your bones - you're not sure you'll ever shake it - but it's the least important thing right now as you stand and look at him, more awkward and uncertain than you've ever seen him.

"Hi."

You're surprised it's you who speaks first, given how dry your mouth is all of a sudden, seeing him up close again and looking as good as, if not better, than he ever has.

"Hey," he says, before clearing his throat. "S'good to see you."

It's a voice you didn't want to forget, but apparently damn near almost had, given the way your body reacts to it. Deep and rumbling, with the slow southern drawl trickling down your spine like honey and settling between your thighs - though in all honesty that might just be sweat. It really is hot in here, worse now that you're standing, and the fan is doing absolutely nothing to help. You look a mess too - your hair, your clothes, your life - but he doesn't seem to mind, and you're grateful, because right now this is as good as you've got.

"Wanted to see how you were doin'. Figured we should talk," he says with another soft smile.

Stepping aside, you give him a small nod as you silently invite him into your home for the first time. Which should be funny, given the unknown number of times he's been through this door, but you're not ready to laugh about any of it just yet.

When the door closes behind him, it's soft and gentle, barely audible over the fan blasting warm air at you, and you wonder if it's always like that. If he's always quiet as a mouse, and you always too oblivious to notice - between the two of you, you didn't stand a hope in hell in figuring it all out until it was too late and blew up in your face. Now, here you are, egg on your face, the heat in the room not helping the heat in your cheeks, trying desperately not to send him away when you've just invited him in.

It would be easier if it all still felt like a dream, but it didn't. That had changed.

Joel had never been much of a normal man in your mind. He was more of a fantasy come to life. A fantasy that was slowly building into something more and more real with each encounter. Even now, stood in normal shoes, wearing a normal t-shirt, and even more normal jeans - just Some Guy by anybodies standard - he looks as beautiful and fantastic as ever.

"Wanted to talk to you sooner. Wanted to leave it up to you given - y'know. Everythin'. Didn't want you to think I was just bargin' in all the time when it was convenient for me," he says, this very normal man already making you feel both silly and elated that he was waiting for you as much as you were waiting for him. Obviously you could have gone to him first. You just couldn't do it. You almost had so many times, but the twist of your key in the door would twist something in the pit of your stomach too, and you'd stop before you even made it out the house.

You knew why. It was always the same thing. You didn't want to talk - not ever. You just wanted things to be okay, or not, and go on with your life. It was one of those childish things you had your mom to thank for - she wasn't great at talking about the important thing either.

The difference now was Joel. You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to work out everything with him rather than alone in your head. But prior to the door incident, that wasn't what this was and after - well, fuck - after, it seemed that it could have been like that all along but you were too damn late to do anything about it.

"Know you were angry with me - maybe still are - and I -"

"I wasn't angry with you," you blurt out, already aware of the lie the moment it leaves your lips. Joel is too, and he raises an eyebrow at you. "Okay. Yes. It pissed me off - you pissed me off. Happy?"

"No. Never wanted to piss you off, darlin'," he murmurs in return, and you can see that he means it by the way all of him softens, drooping in defeat at your admission.

"I... You embarrassed me, Joel. I feel embarrassed, okay? I feel like a stupid idiot, and I -"

You can already feel it all coming back. The swirling in your head, and the heat creeping up your chest and down your arms, not helped by this sweltering fucking house. It's like fainting, but instead of blacking out, a white hot rage is ready to ignite in you. And of everything, it's the thing you most never want to feel again. You'd take all the sadness, loss, emptiness, and longing of the last two months a million times over if it means you never have to feel this again.

" - and it makes me angry. And I hate feeling like that, like this, and I just couldn't come talk to you because I feel so stupid."

"Woah, darlin', c'mon now, we both know you ain't stupid."

"I don't know how to work a fucking door, Joel. Do you know how long people have had doors?"

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes before starting up again, hoping Joel will take the lead and talk for you first, but he doesn't.

"And I thought we were on the same page. That we were both doing the same silly thing, and it was okay that it was silly and fun, because we were both in on the joke. And... I liked seeing you. I liked it when you were here and it just - it just feels like it was a lie, and what I got out of it isn't what you got out of it. And that's okay, but it still feels stupid. I feel like an idiot, and an asshole, and knowing that you knew so much more about me than I knew about you, I just-"

"Do you want to?" he asks. "Do you wanna get to know me? Just gotta say, and it's done. I want you to know about me - I never meant to hide anythin' from you like that. And I don't want you to be mad, and I don't want you to feel embarrassed, cause the way I see it, we both got shit to be embarrassed about. I was breakin' into your house for months, thinkin' I was invited."

You wince a little, and he just smiles, shrugging his broad shoulders that what's done is done, nonchalance easing your anxiety for the first time ever rather than making it worse.

"I used to stand out there in front of your door and talk to your doorbell like you'd talk back to me any minute," Joel says with a laugh. "Course, now I get that you probably ain't got it hooked up. Never did hear the fuckin' thing ring."

Fuck. Right. Yeah, he's got you there. You'd bought it when you moved in, at your mom's insistence, and never got around to connecting it to anything. You figured it just being there would be deterrent enough and, other than visits from Joel, it had been.

He laughs again at your poorly masked grimace, and any other time you'd maybe be infuriated by him finding humor in something you'd been hurting over for weeks. It's not until you meet his eye and see the silliness in it all too - neither of you really did have any hope.

"Right? It's dumb. Not you, not me, it's just dumb. I even used to tell you when I'd be over next, let you know when to expect me. Leave out a key or put the door on the latch if it's okay for me to come by. I thought I was bein' invited in, but I was breakin' in. Shit. You're embarrassed, and I'm a criminal, I guess we're both losers."

Any anger you had is gone in a flash as laughter ripples through your belly and out your throat. In a way, it's all true. Joel was just as fucked as you, had just as much to be embarrassed and fearful about as you. Unknowingly leaving your home vulnerable to intruders is one thing, but being an accidental criminal for months is another.

"I liked it. I... I never knew when you were coming."

"Hey, if that's what gets your rocks off," he says with a wink, and you laugh again. "I ain't one to judge, but we can explore that in safer ways than keepin' a door unlocked day and night."

You both realize what he said the second the word left his lips.

We.

As in us.

As in together.

And you think he might take it back as quick as he said it, but he doesn't. He just looks at you, half fearful that he said the wrong thing, half hopeful that he said the right thing.

"Okay."

With one word he brightens, and you can feel it in you too. Whatever it is is mutual. Has been since the red velvet coat, since the wings, since the bunny ears, and all the spaces in between.

"Yeah? Cause I'd like to start over, if that's okay with you."

"Well, that sounds like a terrible idea," you say bluntly, because honestly you cannot think of anything worse. Joel's slow steps towards you falter for a second as he tries not to let the disappointment in his face show, but you're already smiling. "You can pry Santa, Cupid, and Flopsy from my cold, dead hands."

And his laugh is glorious, cracking open the remnants of the walls you'd put around yourself and letting your bones soak in the warmth of him, just as his arms come to wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. He smells so familiar - that's one thing you know about him. You might not know about his favorite color, or what he likes to eat, or even his daughters name just yet. But you know what he smells like, how his smile lights up his eyes, and how his hands feel on you, anchoring you in place even as you send yourself dizzy breathing him in.

He's going to kiss you too. You know that, and you welcome it, but before he can, you pull back.

"There's so much I want to know, I don't know how I missed so much."

"You get one question before I'm kissin' you."

You think for just a second before looking down to where your fingers curl into his shirt - an old Fleetwood Mac tee, so washed and worn it's like butter beneath your fingers.

With a wry smile, you look up at him from beneath your lashes, unable to hold back the laughter in your voice. "What are you dressed as today? Don't think I know this one, you're usually on theme."

"This? I'm just your plain ol' friendly neighborhood Joel Miller."

His lips are on yours then, pressing a soft kiss into the curve of your mouth, eyes searching yours for one, two, three seconds, before he dives back in, kissing you in earnest, making up for all the in betweens you'd been wishing away.

You wrap yourself around him, clinging to him, damn near wanting to climb up him, as you make out like teenagers in the middle of your living room. His hands wander across your shoulders, down your spine, grasping at any softness he can find along the way until his hands settle - one on your ass, and one gently cupping the back of your neck.

And as you kiss, holding each other close like you were long lost lovers and not whatever this thing between you was, you can't help but think that Joel Miller may just be your favorite Joel yet.

"Now, I got a question for you," he mumbles into your mouth, each word chased by your kisses. You've never wanted to seem desperate before, but right now you don't care, and by the way he's holding you, Joel doesn't mind either.

"Why the fuck do you have a nightlight?"

Shooting him an inquisitive look, you follow his gaze over your shoulder.

There on your counter, little light blinking away, is your very own clitty-blaster-3000, a luminous ghost with its mouth set in a permanent O, glowing brightly in the darkness. Shit. You'd brought it down this morning to charge, needing to keep a watchful eye on it and its janky magnetic charger to make sure it charged fully. You'd totally forgotten about it, and now here it was, glowing like a beacon after being out in the sun all day.

You try to pull away from Joel, but with his arms locked around your body, and his mouth pressing soft whiskered kisses to your neck, you don't have the strength, or the inclination, to move.

"It's not a nightlight, I can go put it away, if you just gimme-"

He tucks you behind him, swatting away your arms as you feebly try to reach around and grab it from him. Truthfully, you quite like the idea of him holding it, using it, but you feel bad that he might not know what it is.

"Not a nightlight, huh?" He says, grabbing the toy from the counter, said charger immediately popping off and clattering to the ground. He inspects it, turning it over in his hands, bringing it so close to his face it casts shadows across his features with its glow. "Oh, I know what this is."

"What is it then, smartass."

"Other than Pac-Man's worst nightmare? It's one of them clitty-blaster-3000 things."

Eyes wide, you double over, cackling and holding desperately onto yourself so you don't totally fall apart in front of him. He laughs with you, though maybe it's a little bit at you too, but you don't mind.

"What?!" he says smiling as he watches you fight to right yourself, gripping his forearm with laugh weakened fingers.

"That's what I call it!"

"Yeah? It good?"

His eyes are burning into yours. You know where this is going, and there's a brief thought that maybe you should stop it, slow things down. But you don't. Instead, you bite your lip and nod, making a noise of confirmation as Joel fiddles with the buttons on the toy.

A second later, it whirrs to life, a gentle throbbing buzz meeting your ears.

Joel puts his thumb over the hole, the suction gently hammering away at his finger tip as he clicks up and up through the intensity until he's well past a level you can use it at.

"Shit, yeah. Can see how that'd feel good."

"I, uhm, like to tease myself with it."

"Yeah?" he says as it clicks back down through the settings and rests on the softest one again. "Is that how you use it? Just to tease yourself?"

"No," you say, gasping a little when he raises the toy to your neck, pressing the mouth of the ghost to you as if pressing a kiss to your skin. "I - I just kinda stick it on there, to be honest. But I go slow with the - with the settings."

Joel clicks up one setting, the gentle thrumming at your neck intensifying a little.

"Yeah? You take your time? Give her what she deserves?"

You forgot what this was like - how easy and good it was to give in to wanting him, and how easy it was to let yourself have him too.

"Mhm."

"Good. Can't say I ain't jealous though. Missed comin' here. Seein' you. Thought about you, thought about comin' to see you but -"

"Thought about you too."

"When you were usin' this?"

You nod, tilting your head to the side and sighing as he glides the tip of the toy across your pulse point, behind your ear, down the column of your throat.

"Can I use it on you?"

You damn near want to tell him he can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but the words are lost when you nod again and he captures your mouth in another kiss, brutal in its softness as he guides you back to your couch and all the plush cushions you have stacked there. Since Christmas, your home décor skills have definitely improved. Things look a little less bare, the place looks a little more lived in. There's still pictures to hang and empty spaces on shelves to fill, but you know those things will come in time. For now, you're grateful for the comfy place you've made on your sofa as Joel sits you down, guiding you down with strong hands.

Your shorts are quickly pulled off, the toy pulled from your neck so Joel can kiss his own better trail across your flesh. You hold him to you, anchor him into your bosom like he might drift off like a spectre in the night if you don't, but he's as latched to you as you are to him.

And then he's on his knees for you, jeans straining as his cock swells, hands gripping your thighs then pushing your shirt up, exposing you for him. Panties soon follow your shorts, yanked down your legs in a joint effort by your left hand and his right as he can't resist lapping at your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours.

He's everything you tried to forget, and some of the things you did. He's strong, and broad. He's gentle too, and soft - his eyes, mostly, but some other parts of him too. He's silly, and playful, smiling into your mouth and nipping at you, the hand by your thigh teasing the buzzing toy over the delicate skin there and delighting in your shudder.

As he moves it closer, the sounds of the suction against your skin making you both giggle, he moves down, burying his face into your neck and breathing in. You already know that it's never been like this before - that this is something new, just like every other time before had been something new.

"So you just stick it on, huh?"

"Lube. With lube."

His face is between your legs in an instant, licking messily around your clit, not really trying to get you off, just aiming to get you wet. When he pulls back, toy in hand, he raises the glowing toy mouth to his own and licks, smiling at the sound of it suctioning to his tongue.

"That good enough?"

And you nod, giving in to his kisses again before he breathlessly spreads you apart with both hands, looking at your cunt like if he blinks it'll all fade away.

"You know I ain't seen this for three months?"

"You been counting?"

"I missed you," he repeats with a breathless kiss to your thigh. "Missed this."

He lights his way with the glow of the toy rumbling in his hand, pulling back your clit for just one second, barely holding in a groan, before he gently holds the mouth of the ghost to you, pressing until the obscene slurp is muffled by full suction on your clit.

And it's divine, just like it always is, but somehow made even better by the man doing it to you. Fascinated eyes don't stop watching as it hammers air lightly at your clit in a constant rhythm, and the sight alone makes you drip. You're grateful for the heat now, and the sheet you'd covered your velvet sofa with, saving you an undoubtedly messy clean up later.

The toy slips when Joel climbs back off his knees to press his mouth to yours, and the air splutters and ripples past your skin again, as Joel laughs into your mouth.

"The sound of this thing, jesus fuckin' christ. Sounds like you're -"

"Don't. Don't make me laugh, you'll distract me."

"I like it when you laugh," but he's already pressing it flush to your skin again, stopping the sound and sending the ripples directly back to your clit.

"Ohh, f- "

"That's it," he says, watching as your hips rock ever so slightly into the throbbing toy sucking away on your clit. "Fuck, that's it. Lettin' me get you off with this thing."

"Think I can get some fingers in and keep this right where you need it?"

"Mm."

"Yeah?" he says, swiping at your entrance with his middle fingers, carefully holding the toy in place with his palm. "Just like that. There we go. Right in there. Fuck, I missed this. Missed bein' in here."

"Fuck."

"That's it. You come on 'em. Wanna feel it."

"Joel, down. Move it down. Ple- ah."

"There?"

"Right there," you sigh, panting and barely making it through the words before your eyes snap shut.

And then Joel is in your ear, his breath fanning against you, cooling you for a second even as his fingers stoke the fire raging in your core.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he murmurs, and you just know he's looking down at you, the picture of a perfect mess. A sheen of sweat on your skin, lips swollen and parted as you gasp, thighs spread wide, hips rocking into Joel's illuminated palm, t-shirt rucked high over your hips, hands on your tits, nipples pinched between your own fingers, moaning, panting, coming.

You twitch in his arms, burying your head in his neck and breathing deep. Something about the position you're in can keep it going longer, can keep that thrumming pressure on your clit right where it is, past your usual limit, dragging your orgasm on and on until you're gasping Joel's name.

He gingerly pulls the glowing toy off of you - its brightness dimmed only slightly since you lost sight of it between your legs - fiddling with buttons until he gives in and throws it to the side to run his hands over you.

With a light kisses to your parted lips, he apologizes, giving you softly muttered sorrys for ever upsetting you, for taking so long to come talk to you, and before you can return the sentiment, he sends you laughing again.

"And I'm sorry for breakin' into your house. Accidentally."

Your laughter makes him shift, and his face contorts as he gasps in discomfort.

"Fuckin' jeans. Pinchin'," is all he says, as he tries to adjust himself. You can see his zipper strain with the weight of his cock, stiff and unattended, behind the thick fabric.

"Take 'em off."

"Came here for you, not me."

"And if I want you to come for me?"

Joel blinks.

"Then I'm takin' my damn pants off," he says, taking his pants off. He sighs in relief when the pressure on his cock is released, groans when your hand palms him over the damp fabric, gasps into your mouth when you slip your fingers beneath his waistband, finding his cock slick and wet with precum, curses into your hair when you lick the salty taste of him from your fingers.

Tugging his boxers down a little more, his cock springs free, slapping his wet tip against his belly. In a blink you're on him, pulling off his shirt as you go to suck wet kisses into his neck, his chest, and letting your fingers toy with his nipples and the other feel down past his boxers, cupping his balls and rolling your thumb across the sensitive flesh before he pushes up into you.

He's solid. You're surprised he didn't come in his pants with how firm he feels slipping against your cunt. You meet his thrust, grinding down into his solid length, trying to hold your own shirt up so you can see the tip of his cock as he ruts against you.

"Does that feel good?"

"Fu - yeah. Y'always feel good."

"Y'know what would feel better," you whisper, scratching gently down his chest and watching goosebumps prickle his skin. With a shift of your hips, his next thrust pushes in, just slightly, before popping out and grinding into your clit again. His next thrust - slower, firmer - notches against your entrance and pushes in, Joel's hands on your ass dragging you down, until you're seated to the root of him.

It's a stretch. It always was. But over three months, and a decline in solo sessions, made it even more so.

Still, even through the stretch, you rock against him, looking into the eyes of Joel Miller, the normal, every day guy who lives down your street, and smile at it all, and the look on his face that says he couldn't be luckier.

"Said I wanted you to come, didn't I?"

And you meant it. You show him how much you mean it as you start to ride him, lifting higher and higher off of him before pushing back down. Your thighs clap against his, wet with sweat and slipping together with each movement, echoing around your living room.

It doesn't last long. It can't. It's too fucking hot, and you're woefully out of practice as the stretch in your pussy turns into a burn in your legs. You can see Joel's face start to pinch and contort, looking between your face, your bouncing tits, and the slip of his cock in and out of you, barely visible in the shadows.

But you can't keep going. You'll pass out if you do. Joel's hands register what you're doing before his face does, gripping tighter and holding you down on him, before his mouth opens in a gasp, his head falling back after losing something he was so close to getting.

You barely pull in a breath of warm air before Joel is dragging you down, flipping you unceremoniously onto your back on the floor.

It's cooler down here, even with Joel's body over yours. It's why you were on the floor to begin with, before he came back, before you let him back in. Joel fumbles against you, the sweat on your body acting more like a full body lube at this point, before he slides back in, knocking the air out of you as he fills you all over again.

Even though his knees will be bruised in the morning and your back will ache, he pounds into you, gripping your shirt and pulling you down with each thrust.

And it's just so fucking good you can't help but practically scream as he fucks you, moaning loudly into his ear as he groans and pants and swears into yours. Your fingers can't find purchase against his back, even as you desperately claw at him. There's too much sweat - it's too fucking hot in here - but you wouldn't change any of the desperate mess that you find yourselves in here on the floor.

He's growling, balls slapping against you, fucking you so hard you have to throw a hand out to hold onto the couch.

"I'm gonna - fuck - look at me. Look. Fuck. Fuck."

He presses in then, spurting deep in you, stealing the air from your mouth, and you from his, as you gasp and groan with each shallow thrust of his hips.

When he pulls out, hands going from bruising grip to gentle strokes, he rolls off of you, his back slapping wetly against the ground just as your pussy makes its own equally wet sound. And you laugh, because it's silly, just like it always has been, with or without a costume or a name that's not quite his own to go with it. Joel chuckles along with you, content and dozy from his orgasm, the evidence of it trickling out of you and making a mess of your floor as your stomach contracts with laughter.

The house cools down in the darkness - not much, but enough. Your hands find each other again too, and you each dance small patterns across each others skin until words come back to you.

You talk there on the floor, sweat drying on your skin, until the rumble of your stomach becomes too distracting to continue. You learn his favorite color, what he does for a living, his daughters name. You even learn the exact make and model of his truck, something you immediately forget.

And when he tries to excuse himself, too frightened of overstaying his welcome, you invite him to stay, and Joel Miller, the best Joel you've ever met, says yes.

next part

taglist: @jupiter-soups@wannab-urs@bean-is-reading@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@youandmeand5bucks-blog@bbyanarchist@vickywallace@kamcrazy123@valkyreally@ashhlsstuff@a-literal-goblin@ariundercovers@iluvurfather@stevie75@toxicanonymity@thesevi0lentdelights@sp00kymulderr

[hana-no-seiiki]

May I request a yandere bat family with a Venti! Reader who has powers similar including his personality (except the reader doesn't drink alcohol)

I love your writing take care 🍟✨✨✨

B-but Venti’s whole personality is about alcoholism-

I’ll try my best tho so here ya go.

TW/CW: Reader takes the form of Bruce/Damian’s ancestor so they have black hair. But it isn’t their true self so make of it as you will. Soft Yandere. Multiple Invasions of Privacy.

YANDERE! BATFAM x VENTI! READER

You’re an immortal wind spirit. You reached the level of godhood quite a while ago and spent your days roaming the Earth.

Let’s say you were friends with Bruce’s (and therefore Damian’s) ancestor long ago, and after their death you took their shape.

Knowing these two’s genes you were quite the good looking fellow. Almost blending in as their distant relative.

You have no need for food, or other basic necessities. Hell you didn’t even need to go to school as your dominion over the wind allows you to know everything that has been spoken.

But you took it upon yourself to always be there to guide your friend’s progeny, and thus you found yourself in Damian’s school as his classmate.

You seemed pretty lax. Carefree. Maybe even lazy. Damian didn’t really care much about you aside from the fact that you looked a bit similar to his father. Many people had black hair anyways. It’s not like you were super cute and his eyes kept wandering back to you or anything.

But then you aced many of the classes.

He never saw you study. In fact you spent most of the class trying to distract him or conversing with his other classmates.

This caused him to do an investigation about you, where he found out that you don’t even exist.

At least in the eyes of the government and even the files his father kept.

You meet Tim similarly. Let’s say you three of you go to the same college and similar to Damian, you also decided to take care of the other batfamily.

…

You kind of bullied the poor guy.

You clicked pretty quickly and he was swift to start stalking you. But then also found himself with the same trouble of your ‘non-existence’. But unlike Damian who launches a full investigation, Tim has a one track mind.

He results to surveillance.

Dude has no care whatsoever about your privacy. He watches you wherever you go.

You know this, and are kinda bummed that you have to pretend to pee and do other human things. But since you’re immortal and well- know everything- you don’t have a sense of privacy + don’t react like a normal person.

Instead you pay him back by bullying him on his perversions

Like when he jerked off to you changing clothes

Or his secret collage of you which definitely contained photos of you being naked.

People are kind of offput by how Tim is obsessed over you, but are just completely baffled by how you reacted.

Like instead of going to the police or something you breach his privacy back instead and expose him. You don’t even seem perturbed just annoyed too.

In any case all this, including Damian’s investigation leads to you confessing the truth, and telling them that you were there to be a guide and whatnot.

Of course, everyone but Tim are a bit skeptical. But ever since you began helping them in vigilantism and showing just how much you knew and helped them they eased up.

Bruce has a little resentment since you weren’t there when his parents were killed. But gets over it once he found out how you’ve been tirelessly repenting

By stalking them

But I mean at least you tried

The rest I’ll cover more in the other ask that also requested Venti! Reader. Hopefully I’ll get to that soon.

EXTRA: Damian definitely witnessed your exchange with Tim and was jealous that you were giving his predecessor attention.

So he bullied him with you.

[amomentsescape]

OooooO! Could I get a Slasher X reader! Like where another "rival" Slasher gets interested in another Slasher's So?

When Another Slasher Becomes Interested in Reader

Brahms Heelshire x Reader

A/N: I decided to not go into specifics on who the "rival" slasher was since it would have involved a lot of background and explanation on why they were in the UK in the first place.

Brahms's jealousy and possession over you knows no bounds

He doesn't even want you within a 3 foot radius of the man whose only job is to drop off groceries

He enjoys having you all to himself, living in the middle of nowhere with only him as your company

He may be the one who needs to be taken care of, but that's not to say that he doesn't want you to rely on him too

He has always wanted you to seek out his protection

He loves to see you curl up beside him and just fully relax in his presence

In fact, Brahms is never satisfied unless he is fully enveloping you with an iron grip, making sure nothing else can touch you and you can't sneak away

So when the feelings of paranoia began, Brahms went into a frenzy

He triple checked the locks on all the doors and windows every single night

He set up a security system to prevent anyone from breaking in

He even stopped hiding within the walls during the day and instead spent 24/7 right next to you

You questioned his sudden change in behavior

He told you he could feel someone watching you two

He could tell that you weren't really alone anymore

This freaked you out a bit

Brahms may be childish, but he's not stupid

You began to trust his word a bit more after that

It wasn't until one day that you decide to slip out of the house for a couple minutes

Brahms refused to let you outside or to even open a window the past few weeks, and this was beginning to wear on you

The cool air immediately calmed you down, and you began to question what he was so worried about in the first place

But right as the thought crossed your mind, you heard a branch snap beside you

You immediately turned and saw a masked man standing there, his height towering over you

He had a massive blade in his hand that sent a shiver down your spine

In that moment, you knew you should have listened to Brahms

You turned to run, but the Slasher was faster

He grabbed you by the jaw and turned you towards him, forcing you to look at him

To your surprise, his grip loosened slightly as he began to rub his thumb along your cheek

The feeling was familiar in a way to what Brahms would do sometimes

But that didn't make the moment any less terrifying

You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he kept a firm hold on you

Just when you were about to call out for Brahms, the Slasher was slammed to the ground

You could see Brahms and the Slasher in a tussle, rolling around in the dirt while the sound of hard hits and cracking knuckles echoed throughout the quiet forest

You were worried for Brahms since the other Slasher was just as tall and strong as he was

But to your surprise, Brahms got the upper hand

He slammed his fist over and over again onto the man's mask, causing it to crack and splinter into his skin

This distracted him for just long enough that Brahms could grab a large rock, forcing it straight into the man's forehead

All movement ceased, and Brahms sat there, breathing heavily

When he finally turned to you, you slowly walked over to make sure he was okay

Before you could even say a word, Brahms had you pinned to a tree

His hands snaked along your waist as he pulled you flush against him

His lips were on yours in a hurry, his kisses hungrier than you had ever felt them before

He'll most definitely lock you back inside the house for the foreseeable future after this, but at least for now, you can just relish in his possessiveness and desire

[azzo0]

Summary: Bakugo Katsuki, your childhood best friend, your guard and the man you love most. You're aware he harbours the same feelings for you. Unfortunately, he doesn't deem himself worthy of your love because all he has to offer is his heart and soul. He can't have you, not when there are men far richer and caring than him, waiting to give you the life you deserve.

Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader

Warnings: mild nsfw, angst with happy ending, bakugo is a little insecure, reader and Bakugo are from a tribe and are 20, half-assed in some places because I lost motivation to finish this four months ago. Idk where I was going with this one.

wc: 4.9k

song: Here with me- by d4vd

Bakugo Katsuki's been by the chief's daughter's side for as long as he can remember. His father was the chief's personal guard, so he was trained to guard the chief's daughter, you. Before he was too young to start training, he played with your silly wooden dolls, took baths in the lake with you, played dress up and whatnot. He was your first best friend. Someone who wasn't afraid to interact with you just because you were the chief's daughter.

Once he was a little older, his father started training him, but that didn't stop him from visiting your tent before curfew and spending time with you. You guys were too old for toys and playing house now. Instead, he listened to you read a book for him or tell him about your day and why you find everyone in the tribe so annoying. After you were done with your ramble, he'd tell you about how his training was going. Each time, he vowed he'd be the one selected as your guard and replace the 'shitty' one you currently had. His ears and cheeks went rosy whenever you giggled and told him you were sure he'd win the competition. He rolled his eyes at it, but on the inside, he was a mush. It pushed him to train harder because he wanted to defeat all the men who would compete to be your guard. 

He's everywhere you are once he absolutely destroys everyone in the competition. Outside your tent as you're deep asleep, accompanying you when you go to the other tribes with your father or when you go hunting. He knew your habits and nature like the back of his hand by now.  He loves his job, but he really hates how distracted he is by the person he's supposed to be protecting. 

Even now, his eyes kept trailing to you, studying you for a few seconds too long before returning his attention to the surroundings. He reminded himself that he was here to protect you, or he could lose his position by your side to someone else. He can't help it when you look so damn beautiful sitting on a cloth by the lake, reading some stupid book. Since when did he start looking at you like that? He brushed away the fact that you've always made his heart race. Even when you guys were kids. You've always had this effect on him.

He has to remind himself to not let these feelings out. He keeps them caged inside of him. What's the point of letting them out when you will one day get married to a man far wealthier and caring than him? He was just your guard. Nothing more.

He sneaked a glance at you again—one last time—only for his heart to leap out of his chest when he saw you already looking at him. His face heated up when your lips tugged up on the sides in a smile. You waved at him and motioned for him to come over. 

"Yes?" He questioned, towering over you with the spear on his side. You felt your chest swarm with butterflies as you looked up at the man you spent your entire childhood with. 

"Sit with me, Katsuki. Don't you ever get tired of standing and glaring at nothing?" You said, patting the empty space beside you. 

"No, It's my job," he replied, "And no, I can't sit with you."

"Oh, come on," You grabbed his hand and roughly pulled him down, "Don't worry about father, no one's going to see you here." 

"But-"

You put an index on his lips, the blush on his pale cheeks not going unnoticed, "Hush, Katsuki. You're not losing your job. If you do, I'll shed a few tears and get it back for you." 

He gave in and sat beside you, his back rigid. You two sat in silence with the sun shining down, the only sounds being the rustle of the leaves, birds chirping, and the lake flowing by.

He allowed himself to look at you again. Cardinal eyes took their time exploring your features, basking in the sun. From your hair to your forehead, where an elegant diadem sat, to your nose and your lips, he so desperately wanted to brush with his. 

You closed the book with a snap, almost startling him and shooting him a bright smile. He listened to you tell him about how annoying your father was being these days as he tried to convince you to meet your suitors. His heart sank to his stomach. Of course, many men were waiting for you to choose them. You guys are at that age now, after all. He was going to watch you get married to some chief's son, leave the tribe, and live your own life. You'd never look back at him because he was just a stupid guard. He convinced himself there were men far richer and more handsome than him, waiting to take your hand and treat you to the best life you deserved. But that man wasn't him. He made a move to leave, freezing when he felt a heavy weight in his lap. 

He looked down to see you had put your head in his lap, your eyes already closed. Despite the sorrow in his chest, he smiled. He knew you liked napping in the afternoons. He stayed for a few minutes longer, aware he could have his head chopped off if one of the chief's men found him like this. He removed the diadem from your head so you were more comfortable and got up, taking off his red fur cloak and folding it. He put it under your head as a makeshift pillow. He sat on his knees, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers as you slept, so ethereally beautiful. 

He picked up his spear and stood guard again to protect the woman he loved most, unaware she dreamt of being in his arms as she slept.

It was another sunny day when Bakugo stood outside the chief's tent with two other guards while you were busy inside with your father. His heart felt so heavy. He wanted to throw up. This morning, the tribal chief and his son from a neighbouring land had come to ask for your hand. He knew he'd lost you the moment he saw the chief's son. He stood weary, doing his job, aware that the moment you walked out of that tent, you'd never glance back at him again. Not when you had that annoyingly handsome man by your side. A man who could give you the world you deserved.

What he didn't expect, however, was you running out of the tent with the roaring voice of your father demanding you to get back inside. Your eyebrows were knitted together as you stomped down the wooden stairs, hurling curses at all the men in the tent. Bakugo sprang to your side instantly, concerned for what had happened inside, almost jogging after you as you sped to your tent. 

He stepped inside after you, watching you fall into your bed of blankets and furs, head buried in a pillow. He kneeled by your bed and put a hand on your back. 

He forgot how much he hated seeing you cry, "Y/n," how long had it been since he last used your name? It was only 'my lady' or a sarcastic 'princess' ever since he was selected as your personal guard, "What happened?"

You peeked at him from the pillow. His forehead was free from creases, and his eyes were soft. 

You sat up, sniffling, "Father wants me to marry that stupid chief's son to strengthen ties," You wiped your eyes, spoiling the kohl that had been applied to your lids this morning with precision, "He won't take no for an answer. I don't want to ruin my life just for strengthening some stupid ties."

There was thick silence. Bakugo gulped as he looked into your eyes. His heart was joyous with your answer, but there was still an empty pit deep within him, "Why?" he asked.

"I just told you why," You frowned, "I'm not marrying some random man I feel nothing for."

You stared at Katsuki, searching for a reaction on his face. You almost wanted to shake him by the shoulder and scream at him, 'I don't want another man when I have you.' Your face flushed when you saw his eyes dart down to your lips for a split second. 

Katsuki looked away from your face, eyes settling on your knees instead, "He's perfect for you."

"No, he's not," you scoffed.

"Why are you being so stubborn?" He raised his voice, "Don't you get he's going to take great care of you? He's going to give you everything you deserve."

"What's the point if I don't love him?" 

"You're the chief's daughter, Y/n. You knew this had to happen sooner or later." He stared into your eyes as if he was trying to knock some sense into you. You didn't get why he was being so pushy about the matter in the first place. It was unlike him.

"You sound like father right now. Stop it." You snapped, "Why are you being so pushy, huh? You think I don't know what you actually want to say?"

Bakugo's eyes hardened and narrowed at you defensively, "I don't know what you're talking about."

You put a hand on his shoulder and forced him back on his knees again when he tried to stand up. You grabbed a handful of the fur on his red cloak, the one he'd let you borrow countless times when it was raining outside or when the breeze was too chilly, "You think I don't notice the way you look at me? Do you think I don't see the blush on your face when we talk? I'm not dumb. You like me. So stop spewing shit that goes against what you feel."

Bakugo was dumbfounded as he glared at you with cheeks and ears as red as his eyes. He wanted to deny you. He wanted to tell you you were delusional, but his throat betrayed him. 

"What does that have to do with your proposal?" He scowled.

"It has everything to do with my proposal, for fucks sake!" you yelled, "I like you too, but you're too busy thinking you're not worthy of being by my side!"

His poor heart couldn't take the attacks you unleashed on him one after the other. You liked him too? Even though he had nothing but his heart and loyalty to offer you? You were right about the last bit of your confession. He wasn't worthy of being by your side. Not as your lover. 

"You're right," he mumbled, standing up. He turned around and went to the entrance to your tent, raising the flaps, "I ain't worthy of bein' by your side. You deserve a man that spoils you rotten and gives you the world. That man ain't me."

"Katsuki..."

"I'm fine with just being your guard. So put your feelings away 'cause I'm not the man you're meant to be with." With that, he stepped out of your tent to stand guard again, and your father's men begged you to go back to his tent again. 

With no fight left, you half-heartedly agreed to their pleas. You stopped to glance at Katsuki before going after the men. His eyes were set straight ahead of him with a stone face.

He wouldn't look at you.

Bakugo's heart ached as he trailed a little distance behind you and your soon-to-be fiancé, Keiji. You had signed the papers without a word after the fit you threw over the proposal a week earlier, and now your engagement ceremony was only four weeks away. He wanted to chop off his own head with the sword when you let out a sweet laugh at a joke Keiji made. 

He hated the way the stupid man's hand rested on your waist. He hated the way he looked down at you with hungry eyes. He hated his flawlessly handsome face you were smiling for, but Bakugo was in no position to intervene. He chose this. He chose to let you out of his grasp for someone better. 

You and Bakugo had not spoken to each other since the confessions in the tent. If your eyes happened to meet his, he'd look away like he never saw you in the first place. He simply stood still as a statue and did his job like the other guards. You almost wanted to beg him to talk to you just so you could hear his raspy voice again, but being the stubborn woman, you were, you refused to talk to him first and went and signed the damn papers even though you absolutely hated this man blabbing your ear off as you took a walk around the perimeter of the tribe.

Bakugo watched you giggle and accept a flower Keiji had plucked from a bush. 'She hates that flower, you dickhead,' Bakugo wanted to screech. 

He clicked his tongue and forced himself to look away from you two. At least you were warming up to that stupid man. Or so he thought. He kept telling himself he'd be okay as long as you were happy. 

You were on the verge of tears as you crept through the woods with an archery bow and arrows. You wanted your horse to kick Bakugo with her hind legs. You had signed the papers in hopes Katsuki would change his mind, and now there was only one week till the engagement ceremony. You guys still hadn't uttered a word to eachother. The only reason he was following you here was out of obligation. 

You went still when you spotted a deer. Slowly, you took out an arrow from the quiver strapped to your back and took aim, hoping to land the shot this time. A twig underneath your foot crunched, and the deer's head snapped towards you before it jumped away. Frustrated, you threw the arrow down. You heard a snicker behind you and glanced back, giving Bakugo a glare to make him shut up. 

"You've wandered too far in," He stated. His voice felt foreign.

"Now you've decided to talk?" You snorted, stomping up to him and snatching the reigns of your horse. 

"It's time to head back," he said plainly. 

"You don't get to order me around," You mounted your horse and went deeper into the woods, completely ignoring him. 

Bakugo ran a hand down his face and followed you. You could be really childish at times. He was going to be the one getting in trouble if you got back home late. You were usually exemplary at hunting, but he could tell you were distracted today. He knew the reason for your distraction, too. His chest felt hollow when he thought of you being finally betrothed and taken away. He was questioning his choices now, but it was too late. He was sure you already liked your fiancé by now. 

He felt a drop of water fall on his nose and wiped it away. After a few more drops fell, he looked up at the sky, partly covered by the thick canopy of leaves. It was raining. 

"Oi," He called, "It's rainin'. Get back here."

By the time you steered your horse towards Bakugo's, the rain had grown heavier. The clouds had made it difficult to move through the forest due to the lack of light. Bakugo tried to navigate his way through the darkness and failed. There was no point in trying to start a fire because the rain would put it out anyway. He heard you let out a small curse. He hopped off his horse and took off his cloak, throwing it at you. 

"I don't need it." 

"Shut the fuck up and put it on," Bakugo rolled his eyes. You gave him an ugly stare and wrapped his warm and furry cloak around your shoulders. You wished he'd stop doing things that made your heart swoon so you could hate him.

He took your horse's reins and hopelessly tried to look for a way out. It was of no use, "Well, fuck." he sighed.

"Katsuki, look at that!" He followed the direction of your finger and squinted, trying to look through the rain. It was a shelter cabin and a stable, "Finally. Let's stay there till the rain stops."

You nodded in agreement and left your horse beside his in the stable. Luckily, it had doors, so the horses wouldn't get cold. Bless whoever built this shelter. Katsuki climbed up the logs stacked on top of eachother as makeshift steps and opened the door to complete darkness. You followed after him, leaving the door open as he fumbled with the fireplace, trying to start a fire. After a few tries, the cabin lit up in orange and red hues. You finally closed the door. 

You watched him get up, your eyes falling on his white shirt, now see-through from being wet. It clung to his skin, giving you a fine view of his muscles. The rain had made his wheat blonde hair droop down. He noticed your flustered state and strode up to you cocking his head, "Something the matter, princess?"

You held his scarlet gaze as he undid his buttons, his lips tugged up on one side in the smallest smirk, well aware of the effect he was having on you. He took off his shirt and put it on a chair in front of the fireplace to let it dry. You had no intentions of taking off your clothes, even if they made you squirm in irritation. 

"Oi, come sit here," Bakugo pulled another chair in front of the fire, "You'll catch a cold." 

"Why do you care?" You felt bad for being snappy, but you were also mad at him for ghosting you for three whole weeks and then talking to you as if nothing happened. Bakugo bared his teeth in a snarl and took slow steps towards you, making you back away into the door. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you need to snap at every damn thing I say?" He growled. 

"What the fuck is wrong with me? I should be asking you that question!" You yelled, trying to push him away, "Katsuki, you can't just not talk to me for three whole weeks and then expect everything to be normal!"

"Well, what else do you want me to do? Cheer for you and that fucking Keiji?"

"That's why you're not talking to me?" You sneered, "You did this to yourself, Katsuki."

"But you're happy, ain'tcha? Then go kiss his ass, and don't fucking worry about me." He turned around to lay in the furs, stopping when you spoke again. 

"Do I look happy to you, Katsuki?" You said, your voice small, "What made you think I'm happy with the fact I'm going to be betrothed to him? I signed the papers so you'd come back to me, you fucking idiot."

He slowly turned around to see you tighten his cloak around your shoulders, "I'm not marrying him." 

"Why are you like this?"

"How can I marry another when you're here with me, Katsuki?"

"I have nothing to give you, Y/n. I'm just a guard with a little tent and my heart to offer. Keiji-"

"I'm sick of hearing that name. Stop. I'm not after your treasures or luxuries. I want you. Why don't you see that?! Why do you keep comparing yourself to other men like that? I love you for who you are, not for what you have." 

He took quick steps towards you and slammed his lips against yours. Your eyes widened at the feeling of his rough lips pressing on yours. He pulled away for a few short seconds to see your reaction. You wasted no time throwing your arms around his neck and connecting your mouth to his again. 

His body pressed against yours, pushing you onto the door behind you. Your lips were warm. So warm and soft. He pushed his mouth further onto yours, your teeth clashing with his. His cloak fell off your shoulders, pooling around your feet. You tried not to gasp when his warm and wet muscle slipped into your mouth and danced around.

"Fuck," His hands travelled down your back and behind your thighs to lift you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and he buried his nose under your jaw, lips brushing your skin, "I fucking love you," He confessed against your jugular. 

He didn't wait for a reply and stole the air out of your lungs again. You pulled away, gasping with your head thrown back as he gave all his attention to your neck, "I love you too, Katsuki." His mouth was on yours again, kissing you like you were the very oxygen he needed to survive. 

"I don't want to see you with another," He panted in between kisses, "I can't let you marry someone that isn't me."

"You're such an idiot," You grinned, "If you would have said that before, I wouldn't have to sign the papers."

"Signed 'em for my attention, eh?" He smirked, brushing his nose with yours. You kissed him again, this time more fiercely. Your legs tightened around his torso, and you moaned into his mouth. 

"Oi," he warned. 

You put your feet on the ground and steered him towards the furs piled up like a bed, almost tripping a few times. You pushed him down and straddled his lap, leaving a trail of kisses along the length of the scar on his shoulder. 

"Desperate, huh?" He smirked when he felt you grind against him, frantic for friction. He flipped you to the other side so he was the one towering over you. He teased the buttons of your shirt, still soaked from the rain. 

"You're testing my patience," You gritted your teeth, slapping away his hands playfully and undoing the buttons yourself. Bakugo was left star-struck as he gaped at the sight of you laid out so beautifully in front of him. He went beet red, all his cockiness running down the drain. He wasn't sure of what to do with himself now. Noticing his daze, You giggled and pulled him down into you. 

You two made love with the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof and the sounds of crackling thunder. Neither of you seemed to notice the storm raging outside, so engrossed in each other's warmth and desire. The world around you seemed to have been blurred, with the only focus being you, him, and the chants of 'I love you' he murmured into your ear.

"Where were you two?" Your father demanded the next morning, his nostrils flaring when he noticed the bruises on both of your necks. The clothes you wore covered very little of the artwork you guys had made on eachother last night. 

"We got caught up in the storm," you explained. "We found a cabin in the woods and stayed the night."

"Stayed the night to betray your fiancé?" You held your father's stern glare, narrowing your eyes at him. "Do you realise what you have done? And you, Bakugo Katsuki. What made you think you could pounce on my daughter the minute you had an opportunity?"

Katsuki remained on the floor on one knee, head low out of respect. He dared to look up at the chief, who was already staring at him murderously. Katsuki cursed internally and looked at the carpet again. You guys were in so much trouble. 

"Katsuki did nothing," You said, trying to keep your cool, "And I haven't betrayed Keiji because I am not betrothed to him yet."

"Your engagement ceremony is in six days!" Your father's voice boomed, "And you gave yourself away to a useless guard?"

"Katsuki is not a useless guard!" You snapped, "He's saved me from an assassination attempt twice if your rotten old brain can remember."

"You are talking to your father and to the chief." He seethed, "Mind your language. What he did was nothing impressive. Protecting you is his job," his eyes shifted to Bakugo, a muscle in his jaw flickering, "not sleeping in bed with you."

Bakugo looked up with guilt flooding his chest. He hadn't thought of the consequences last night, "Chief-"

"Silence!" He stood up, looking down at Bakugo. Your heart sank when he called for the guards outside the tent to take Bakugo away. 

"Father, no!" 

"This is what's best for you."

Two guards held Bakugo by his arms as he attempted to get out of their grip. You pushed away the guards with tears in your eyes, trying your best to free him. 

"Sit down, Y/n." Your father commanded. You ignored him and swung your fist at one of the guard's noses, taking him by surprise. Your fingers tightened around Bakugo's arm, and you pulled him up, having him stand by your side. You scowled at the guards, "Stay away."

 "Don't be stupid. That man isn't worth your time." Your father said, "Let the guards take him away. I'll punish him as I see fit."

"No one's taking him away, and you're not punishing him," You said firmly, "You're calling off the engagement ceremony with Keiji because Katsuki's the one marrying me."

Despite the situation, Bakugo couldn't help it when his ears flared red. You were serious about him. He allowed himself to look at the chief in the eye and straighten his back. He dared to let his hand rest on your waist as your father burned with rage.

"Keiji is a rich man, far better than a guard you happen to be in love with. Marrying him is best for you as it will help strengthen ties with-"

"You're marrying me off to him because it will strengthen ties with his tribe. How is that the best for me? That's the best for you. And I don't care about how rich Keiji is because I want to marry Katsuki, and I'll have it no other way."

"Y/n-" He started, but you cut him off.

"Besides, didn't you marry Mom despite your parents wanting you to marry someone else?" You reminded. You watched your father's fists clench, "Then why are you trying to force me?"

There was dead silence in the tent as you and Katsuki stared at the chief while the guards stood there awkwardly. At last, your father took a step towards you, putting his hands behind him, "I suggest you think about it again."

"I've already made my decision."  

Your father's eyes shifted to Bakugo beside you, "How can I be sure you'll take care of my daughter?"

"I'm ready to sacrifice my life for her, Chief," Bakugo's head lowered slightly, "My heart and soul, they're all hers. I might not be as wealthy as her suitors, but rest assured, I'm still very capable of taking care of her."

You could see the uncertainty flash in your father's eyes. You lowered your voice, "Please, father."

After a few moments of hesitation, he let out a long exhale and put his hands on your and Katsuki's head, "You have my blessings. The engagement ceremony will still be held in six days but with you and Bakugo instead."

Bakugo's heart raced, and his hands pooled with sweat. It felt like a dream. He went on one knee and bowed, "Thank you, Chief."

"Keep her happy, Bakugo Katsuki." 

"I will," Bakugo nodded and stood up.

"Thank you, Father." You beamed. 

You watched your father's lips tug up on the smile in the faintest smile. He turned his back to you, "You may leave."

You broke out into a wide grin and took Bakugo's hand to leave the tent. Bakugo had to keep himself from laughing out loud as you almost hopped towards his tent. You turned around and faced him with wide eyes once you guys were inside, "We're getting engaged, Katsuki!"

"Yeah, we are." He smiled. 

"Are you crying?" You asked, noticing his eyes go glossy. 

"Shut up, I'm not!" He exclaimed, looking away from you with a sniffle. You giggled and hugged him tight, mushing your cheek on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his nose in your hair. You could feel your neck get wet, but you made a point not to mention it, letting him hold you for as long as he wanted instead. 

You were finally his. 

Roughly a year later, you sat on the bed of your and Katsuki's shared tent, thinking back on the day's events. You guys had gotten married just this morning. You toyed with the necklace around your neck, the one he'd given you a few hours ago after he said his oaths. You laughed to yourself, thinking of how he almost cried again when he lifted the veil from your head. You looked to your side when he sat beside you. 

"Ya good?" He asked. You nodded, and he took your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist. 

"I'm just so happy, Katsuki."

He shifted closer and cradled your face gently. "Yeah? I'm happy, too." He tucked some hair behind your ear and rested his forehead against yours, "I'll be happy for as long as you're here with me."

You couldn't help but smile when he brushed his lips with yours, "Me too, Katsuki."

[damiansgoodgirll]

OK I found it! (No rush what’s so ever BUT!)

(During Roman’s tribal chief era.)

!Female Reader always had a crush on Roman, but was always too scared to ask him out.

One night during a match Kevin Owens costs her the match, (kinda like how Dom cost Raquel that one time) (you can pick between who ever is on the smackdown roster to have reader up against but it’s also not really required if you don’t want to.)

And basically the bloodline, mainly Roman goes to readers rescue, cause beef with Kevin.

(I know it’s not really…LIKE Roman to do something like that because he’s the tribal chief, but I feel like it would be a nice concept idea.)

Idk just fluff and adorable and what ever cause Roman… LMAO.

sorry it took me so long writing this but i’ve never written for roman and i had no idea on how to start 😭 i hope you like it + the timeline doesn’t really exist here lol

roman reigns x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated

‼️nothing major, hurt/comfort, angry roman, some fluff too, kevin owens is mean here sorry

my weakness

everyone loved roman. yes, he played the big mean guy part and he was definitely good at it but deep down you knew that he cared. he cared for his family, his cousins, the fans, he even cared about his opponents while in the ring. deep down you knew he had a big heart and he was a kind person who pretended to be the bad one.

and maybe it was because of his big mean yet kind personality you caught feelings for him.

it’s not that you were big friends - you had a closer relationship with the usos and your shy personality made it harder for you to get to know him better.

but there were times when you and roman spent some time alone. at the gym, training before a big match or backstage, his presence was nice and even if you didn’t speak much, you enjoyed being around him even if the only present sound was the silence.

unbeknownst to you, roman always admired you. he adored your quite presence. when everyone was noisy around him, he found comfort in your silence. your presence was enough for him.

and his admiration for you didn’t go unnoticed backstage but everyone kept quiet, too scared the tribal chief would get mad if someone said something and they know better to not upset him.

all the locker room knew about that. the saw how roman was nice in your presence but mean with everyone else and even if it made you laugh, you never thought more about that.

even if you had no real beef with anymore backstage, somehow kevin picked you as a main target just to made roman even angrier.

it was going all good on friday night smackdown and you had a match against tiffany - if you won over her, you would get a title shot against nia and after being in the industry for over five years with little to no titles opportunities, you were ready to take it all.

it was your moment to shine, to prove everyone that you deserved to be the women’s champion.

what you didn’t see coming was kevin owen running towards the ring the moment you almost pinned tiffany. you almost had it. but you got distracted by him running and tiffany saw that as an opportunity to stand up and hit you in the back.

you were kinda surprised to see kevin there, why was he even there? he barely talked with you backstage and you pretty sure he wasn’t there to help tiffany as he had no business with her either.

feeling pain in your back, you tried to take back control inside the ring but when kevin got closer to the metal stairs, you and the blonde woman both turned your head towards him.

“what are you doing?” you almost screamed, definitely irritated that he was there to ruin your moment “get down kevin…”

but he stood there, watching the way you and tiffany kept fighting. for the second time that night you had the chance to pin tiffy down but you were too close to the cords and nonchalantly kevin put tiffany’s leg over them.

“what the heck! kevin!” you screamed, even angrier now. you were pretty sure you did him no harm so why was he ruining your moment like that?

at this point you were tired and in pain. kevin was trying to sabotage you and you didn’t know if you had the strength to pin tiffany down for a third time.

meanwhile backstage roman was getting ready for his interview later that night and he had no idea what was happening in the ring. he knew you had a match and he was dying to see it but jimmy forced him to repeat his lines for the interview and he was missing all of your match, until jey came to the tribal chief private locker room and asked him if he knew why was kevin ruining your moment.

roman scrunched his nose, trying to elaborate what his cousin just told him “what did you say?” his tone hard.

“kevin is costing y/n’s title opportunity man, i didn’t even know those two had beef” jey uso repeated.

his words making roman’s blood boil “they don’t” he simply said before he left his changing room.

you fought with every single bone in your body. your head was spinning, your back was killing you and you were tired but you wanted that title opportunity so you kept fighting and for the third time that night you had the chance to pin tiffany down, only for kevin to grab you by the leg and drag your body away from the blonde one.

you couldn’t understand. you really couldn’t.

was it in the script and no one told you?

was your career so pathetic that superiors wanted you out of any title opportunity and instead of telling you, they sent kevin?

your mind was spinning so fast and even faster when your teary eyes met kevin’s eyes. somehow you knew he felt guilty about what he was doing to you and yet he kept going on, dragging your body out of the ring.

you had no strength left so you laid there, hearing the bell ringing, letting tiffany win, and you lose, again.

the crowd erupted in boos, especially since everyone was waiting for your match and cheering for you.

you still laid there, trying to catch your breath again when you suddenly heard the crowd going apeshit.

a very mad roman reigns was running towards kevin owens and punched him right in the face. you quickly stood up, surprised he was even there.

you stood by the ring, a hand behind your back as you tried to catch your breath once again. jimmy and jey coming to your rescue as you all watched roman dragging kevin inside the ring “your beef is with me, now with her…you’re gonna pay for this” he whispered, almost as a promise before leaving the ring.

the crowd was cheering, thinking that it was all part of a script and some even thought that you were going to join the bloodline but you honestly had no idea what was happening.

you saw roman waking towards you, his eves never leaving your body “you okay?” he asked but you were too confused that didn’t even answer “let’s get you backstage…” and for the first time you saw the twins walking in front of him as. roman’s hand gently moved to your back as he helped you walking away from the scene.

medical staff checked you out and luckily you had nothing broken. you were just in a big uncomfortable pain.

roman brought you to his changing room, telling jey and jimmy to go somewhere else as he wanted to speak with you - alone.

“are you okay y/n?” he asked once you sat down on his couch.

“yeah, i think so…” your voice trembled. you definitely weren’t okay. you didn’t even know what happened in the last thirty minutes. your brain couldn’t comprehend it.

“you’re not okay…come here” he gently sat next to you and engulfed you in his big arms. you didn’t even realise you started crying. soft whimpers left your body as roman stroked his hand over your back “kevin is gonna pay for what he did” he said with stern voice.

you looked up at him, quickly wiping your tears away “i don’t think i’ve ever been mean or rude to him, why would he cost me the only title opportunity i’ve been given in five years?” you said mostly to yourself.

“because of me…” roman didn’t want to confess. he didn’t want to ruin the little friendship you two had.

your look quite confused “you?”

“yeah me…” he took a deep breath “because the men in the locker room know…”

“they know what?” you couldn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“that you’re my weakness…” he tried to avoid your look as you watched him with big eyes “you’re my weakness, i never felt like this and they know it…they know i have feelings for you but no one ever said anything…except for kevin, who thought that ruining your moment was okay…he did it because of me, he probably feels like shit knowing that he fucked you up but he got my reaction, he pissed me off and that was his goal” he exhaled once he was finished.

you stayed there, trying to assemble what roman just told you. he liked you, kevin used you to piss roman off and roman defended you, because, again, he had feelings for you.

“you have feelings for me?” you whispered, fearing that if you said it out loud it would have been fake.

“yes…”

“you, the roman reigns, the tribal chief, you have feelings for me?” you whispered again, making roman chuckle this time “am i dreaming? that’s the only possible explanation, i am dreaming…”

his strong voice chuckled again “i promise you that you’re more than awake…”

“why didn’t you say anything about it? we could have avoided a lot of silence conversations…” you asked.

“because i didn’t know, i still don’t know what the outcome of my confession is…i didn’t want to lose you and in all honesty i loved being in your silent comforting presence” he smiled, making you smile back.

you looked at him, trying to find any sign that he was lying but when you find none, you moved closer to rest your lips upon his bigger ones. it was a soft kiss, the both of you testing the waters.

“this would have been the outcome if you told me earlier…” you whispered against his lips, making him laugh.

the title opportunity long forgotten when roman gently moved you over his lap and deepened the kiss.

“i can’t believe you like me…” you whispered, too stunned to believe what just happened.

“i’ve been liking you since you joined the roster…i should have said something earlier…” he said softly while his hand softly stroked your cheek “but i’m glad i did it now…” he kissed you back feeling you smile against his lips.

after a couple of minutes of softly making out, you both got distracted by the twins knocking on roman’s door.

“not now” he said, a stern voice while you tried not to laugh.

“we just wanted to remind you of the interview…” jimmy voice said and you felt romantic scoffing, clearly annoyed to be doing that interview.

“i’ll be out in five” he screamed back and began to kiss you again when he felt the twins walking away from his locker room.

“as much as i love this, you have work to do…” you reminded him, getting an annoyed look by him.

moving back to sitting on the couch, you let roman getting ready as you admired him. he smirked feeling your look on him, especially when you tried to look away.

“i promise you, you’ll get your title opportunity back and no one will interfere this time, you have the bloodline protection, that’s a promise” he said, promising you.

of course you believed him - you knew how important he was in the game and he knew that if he asked hunter for a little favour, he wouldn’t say no.

“once i’m done with my interview, i’ll come back here and then we’ll finish what we started, back at my hotel” he smirked again before leaving the room.

you watched him leave, not being able to answer back. your mouth agape at the idea of spending even more time with roman - maybe, after all, it wasn’t a bad night.

[dwaekkicidal]

Sharing is Caring [3.5: ChanLix]

˚ʚBang Chan x Lee Felixɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Chris comes home to a seemingly empty dorm, ready to relax and relieve the stress from the day away. Though... he really didn't expect to relieve it like this.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 5.6k (don't look at me.)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: member x member content: dont like dont interact <3 (you can also block the #mxm tag), lots of yapping (if you cant already tell by the word count), mentions of poly relationships (specifically skz x female and felix x han), dom!channie and sub-slightly bratty lix hehe, brat taming, slightly meandom chris?, brief mention of chris having a solo-jerking off session, lots of jerking off, multiple rounds, overstimulation, unprotected sex, slight dubcon? (felix says wait a few times but he doesn’t really mean it), i thiiiink thats it?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: this took waaaaay too long for me to get out LMFAO but i finally got it done!!! small update on this series: i think im going to make an ot8 x reader (with a mxm sub chapter lol) and then close out this series >.< i wanna keep writing for it but i just have a jumbled mess of mxm ideas so i think i finish with ot8 and decide later on what to do

Sharing is Caring Masterlist

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

The events of that first Friday night had haunted Chris. But not in a bad way. It was more so that he hadn’t expected any of his members to… explore each other in that way. Even after they all had agreed to the polyamorous relationship, he didn’t expect anybody to make moves on each other. Let alone the fact that they had done it prior to the main relationships starting.

Though, the more he thought about it, the more sense it made that it was the sunshine twins out of everyone. They got along great, both in public and in the comfort of privacy, and he could recall certain times where rather suspicious looks between the two were exchanged before they disappeared not to be heard from for an hour.

And he sure as hell can’t deny how hard he gets at the imagery of what these encounters would look like between the two. Especially not when his jeans manage to get tighter and tighter as the seconds pass and more visions flood in about the smallest two of the group.

But all of this comes to a halt as he takes the final step to be in front of his door. He blinks a few times, not realizing that he had indeed gone up the elevator and walked through the hallway to get to his dorm amidst all his daydreaming. He sighs loudly and digs for his keys in his pocket

Aside from those dirty thoughts lingering, it was eerily quiet as he walks through the hallways of the dorm. He simply assumed that Hyunjin had taken their girlfriend and left the dorm, so he didn’t bother to check the younger’s room. Instead, he just beelined it for his bedroom and closed the door as fast as possible.

He all but tossed his bags on the floor and threw himself onto his bed, exhausted after the hours and hours he had spent in the studio fighting with countless tracks that he just couldn’t seem to get right. He laid there like a pile of bones until he eventually pushed off the bed and forced his way to his dresser. A small pile of clothes is picked out and his robe is grabbed before he mozeyd his way to his shower.

The water is much colder than usual. It’s just barely tolerable but he hopes that it will break down his nasty thoughts, so he sits under the water for much longer than he usually would have. The water trickles down his toned back and he takes a few deep breaths as the last few hours replay in his head.

Han and Changbin had sent him home early, they could tell something was on his mind and he was more distracted than usual. He’d never admit that it was thanks to the youngest in the room, so he kept quiet and just brushed it off. But after a few hours of working and the two other producers trying to get him to talk about it, and failing, they told him to just go home and relax.

They promised to take care of everything as long as he went home and de-stressed. “Maybe even ask Bunny for help.” He sighs as Changbin’s words replay in his mind. It wasn’t a bad idea… A very specific type of release sounded pretty good right about now but considering she wasn’t around, he was at a standstill.

Either he takes care of himself and prays that it’s enough to satisfy him, or he waits however long he has to for his girlfriend to return home and ask her to help him out. And he decided on the latter. Though, part of him hoped the thoughts would go away naturally during the cold shower.

But once the water becomes unbearable and he’s still plagued with the same images from earlier, he grows even more frustrated. He subconsciously rolls his eyes and groans as he shuts the water off, forcing himself out of the shower. He doesn’t bother tying the robe, he just slides his arms through the sleeves and wears it wide open as he walks over to his bed and plops down onto it.

Welp. Plan B.

Some minutes later, his cock aches as he jerks himself off with nothing but thoughts of a certain blonde boy on his knees below him. As if it’s actually happening, his legs spread wider and his hips buck up into his hand. His whole body shivers as his thumb runs through his slit, some of the precum spreading around his tip and making his eyes roll into the back of his skull.

Chan feels like he has no control of his body as he throws his head back and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. He finally allows himself to make a noise- a quiet whine escaping his throat as his stomach clenches, his orgasm right on its cusp.

Then, a sudden, loud knock on his bedroom door makes him jump out of his skin, and his head spins as his hand flies away from his cock, his orgasm already fading away. He wasn’t expecting any visitors and, as far as he was aware, the dorm was completely empty aside from him.

He wholeheartedly thought about ignoring it, hoping that the unknown person would just leave. But then, an all too familiar deep voice calls out to him from the other side of the door, making his arm hairs stick up. “Channie-hyung, are you there? You wanted to talk?”

His eye and his dick twitches and he stares at the door in awe, jaw dropped on the floor. Speak of the devil. He immediately covers himself with the robe, tying it half-assed and rushing to call out to the boy. “Y-Yeah! Come in.”

The door knob turns and Chris almost moans at the sight of Felix clad in a tank top and shorts. Even the slightest semblance of skin would send him spiraling but seeing so much of it, and seeing the outline of his entire torso through this tight shirt makes his dick twitch against his robe.

“Earth to Chris~ Hello?” 

“Ah! Sorry, mate..” He clears his throat and tears his eyes away from the younger’s chest. “What’s up?”

Felix’s face starts to burn red and he smiles knowingly, but he bites his laugh back and repeats his sentence with a more teasing tone. “A little birdy said that you wanted to talk to me about something~”

Chris blinks a few times, staying quiet as he rummages through his foggy brain for an explanation. “Ah! Right- Uh…” He scratches the back of his neck and saunters over to take a seat directly next to him, shivering when Felix leans in and their thighs touch.

“Uh…” Chan rakes his mind as he tries to find the right words, but they don’t come. So he opts to simply explain himself and then hopefully find the right wording. “So. First things first- I don’t want to make you uncomfortable so if this crosses a line, we won't speak about it ever again.” Felix’s eyebrow twitches up in curiosity and he nods slowly. 

“So… Han told me about the two of you.” Felix chuckles and mumbles out a quiet, teasing ‘Yeah?’ that makes Chris’ head spin. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold himself back from moaning as Felix’s voice meets his ears again. “Actually… Han and I spoke the night you three hooked up with our angel, so I know that he told you.”

Felix smiles at the wide eyes he gets in response, but he continues nonetheless. “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. In fact-” He leans forward even more, placing a hand on Chris’ thigh and smirking to himself when the older man whimpers, barely audible. “In fact, I think it’s pretty hot.”

He leans forward all the way and lays his cheek on Chris’ shoulder, hand sneaking up his thigh more and more. His breath is hot on the older’s neck and Chris has to physically bite back yet another moan. He can't, however, bite back the strong twitch from the prominent bulge in his robe.

Felix smiles to himself and tests the limits further, ghosting his hand along Chan’s bulge before walking his fingers up his torso. “We’ve spoken about it before, you know?” Chan’s breath gets caught in his throat but he hums in acknowledgement, signaling Felix to continue. “He told me how big and pretty your dick was. And how submissive you made him feel~. ‘Said you were a real good Daddy.”

This time a moan breaks through and falls past Chris’ lips in a low tone, his legs twitching and arms shaking as he leans back onto them and gives Felix more space to work with. “Shit- Really?” It comes out desperate and deep, to the point where it riles up Felix in all the right ways.

“Mhm. Made me want a go.” Chan’s eyes snap open and he turns his head to meet the younger’s gaze. Their faces are inches apart and he can feel his composure fading away with each second. “Y-You- Yeah?”

Felix doesn’t bother holding back the breathy laugh that comes out. He just nods with his cheek curling up in a smirk. His hand is on Chris’ collarbone at this point and he traces small circles into the sweaty skin there.

The air is heavy as silence fills the room, but Felix doesn’t seem bothered by it. He has a small smile on his face as he continues to tease Chan’s neck with his finger tips. This goes on for a few more seconds as the eldest takes many deep breaths, doing everything in his power to calm his racing heart down. After he finally calms himself down, he finds it in himself to hype himself up.

“So… you want me as bad as I want you?” Felix’s ears start turning red as he nods slowly, lips still pulled up in a smile. Chris only bites his lip, racking his brain for the smallest amount of confidence so he can take control of the situation. The continued silence from the younger man gives him an idea and he finally makes a move, settling his hand on Felix’s cheek to start. His thumb strokes the freckles there and he can feel his confidence grow when the younger melts into his touch.

“Mmmm… And if Han told you about what happened that night, then I would have hoped he told you that I don’t like brats.” Felix’s smirk finally falters and he nods at the older, eyes glossy as they look up at him. Chris sighs and his hand trails down to Felix’s neck where he squeezes it experimentally. “Then… You should know better than to not use your words. Right?” Felix exhales deeply and nods again before catching himself.

“Yes… Sorry.”

Chris’ chest swells with the confidence that he needed and he squeezes his hand again, watching as Felix’s eyes flutter closed. “What is all this for, then? You’re trying to slut yourself out to me?” Felix shivers and doesn’t answer right away, making Chris squeeze his hand tighter and wait until their eyes meet again to loosen the hold. “Huh?”

“Yes, I-” He takes a deep breath, “I want you to play with me- like you did with Hannie.” The second the confirmation left his mouth, Chris wastes no time and shoves his lips against Felix’s. The hand around his neck stays there almost possessively as their tongues breach each other’s mouths. They moan into the kiss as Felix’s hands move to Chan’s biceps. He’s gotten so big recently, and Felix couldn't lie about how hot and bothered it got him.

The information would have to pried from their cold, dead hands, but neither Han nor Felix could deny that they both got off on just how muscular their members have become recently. Even when they would “have fun” with just each other, they tended to bring up one of their members and their sexy bodies.

It’s not until their lungs burn that they pull away from each other. But even then, Chris is already so pent up from weeks of fantasizing, and that mixed with his orgasm getting denied just minutes prior leads to needy impatience. So he, again, wastes no time. He pushes Felix onto the bed by his shoulder and crawls on top of him, sinking his hands and his knees into his mattress as he hovers over him.

His knee pushes up against Felix’s cock through his shorts and his thick lips latch onto Felix’s neck, making the boy moan louder than he expected himself to. He goes to react and cover his mouth with the back of his hand, but Chris reacts faster. He reaches up to capture both of Felix’s small wrists in one of his hands and pins them above his head.

“What happened to wanting to play like Hannie? You know, he was really well behaved then.” Felix whines at first at the gruffness in Chan’s voice, but eventually laughs through it once he realizes what he said. “Mmm… I hate to be the one to tell you, but Hannie and I aren’t exactly well behaved in bed. Even to each other. You just got lucky.”

Chan’s hands falter and Felix laughs out loud when he hears the quiet “More brats? Are you fucking kidding me…” Chris sighs loudly and rubs circles into Felix’s hip as can already feel the future headaches coming on. But, obviously, now is not the time for that. Especially not when he has one of said brats at his disposal, with their consent to play.

“You’re really gonna make me fight for this? Don’t even wanna try being my good boy?” Felix’s eyes shimmer at the pet name and he quickly finds himself in a dilemma. “You’ve been on my mind all fucking week. If you seriously can’t find it in you to be good, I’m not going to hold back when I fuck you like a whore.” Felix shivers and his leg kicks up as Chan’s knee pushes against him harder. 

Their lips lock and Chris’ hands move to trail up and down his body, from ghosting over his chest to sliding up under his shirt just to rake his dull nails down Felix’s stomach. Then they drop lower and tug Felix’s shorts down just enough so that his V-line is on display. As he tugs the shorts down, he kisses down Felix’s throat, making a pit stop there to leave dark hickeys into his skin.

Felix’s hips buck up and Chris indulges him by running his hands on his hips, squeezing them in appreciation before swinging around to knead his ass, spreading him through his shorts just to push them back together.

“Pretty thing. You really gonna let me play with you?” Felix nods eagerly and whimpers when Chris yanks his shirt over his head and then kisses down his chest.

“H-Hyung..” Chris only smiles in response. He bites his lip and looks Felix up and down once more, ghosting his hands over the younger boy’s hip bone.

“Hmmm?”

“Please take them off! I need you so bad.” Chris isn’t one to tolerate being bossed around, but he did ask nicely with a cute little comment at the end, so he lets it slide this time. He tugs Felix’s shorts down to his ankles as he nibbles on his hip. When he pulls away, his eyes widen at the sight of Felix being completely bare now- his pretty cock twitching just inches from his face.

“Felix… Where is your underwear, baby.” Felix’s face flushes and he smiles sideways.

“We played a little before you got home. Hyunjin and I made her squirt like two hours ago.” Chan’s eyebrow cocks and he slowly nods with a smirk.

“Good job…” Chris mutters under his breath. He kisses Felix’s waist and squeezes his hips, humming against his skin as he appreciates the younger’s smaller form. “Can’t wait to fuck this pretty little ass.~”

Chris reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a small bottle of lube, spurting some onto his fingers before poking at Felix’s puckering hole. He slides a finger in all too easily, and for a moment the thought of somebody other than Han getting Felix’s ass before him. He frowns at the thought, jealousy filling his veins, and he shoves that finger in to the knuckle suddenly, almost as a punishment for Felix.

The younger moans high-pitched and keens, his back arching off the bed. Chris smiles and nibbles at Felix’s stomach, leaving hickies all along his v-line. Felix already feels so full by the time Chris adds his second finger, then even more when a third gets added- stretching Felix out more than his small fingers ever had. Or Han’s finger’s for that matter.

He revels in the stretch for some time, rolling his hips back and forth onto the knobby fingers that dig into his walls. As he’s doing this, Chris sneaks his other hand from palming his cock through his robe in favor of wrapping around Felix’s base, squeezing it softly before starting to stroke him slowly.

“Was it just Han?” He gives Felix time to answer, understanding that it can be overwhelming, but when the boy stays quiet he curls his fingers roughly, digging perfectly into Felix’s prostate and making him cry out, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“I asked you a question, Lix.” Chan’s fingers speed up as his other hand focuses on tight, long strokes, causing Felix’s eyes to flutter shut as he moans and clenches around the fingers inside of him.

“Y-Yes just him! I swear! I haven’t- ah! I haven’t talked to any of the others about it yet.” Chan’s eyebrows perk up and he smirks, “‘Yet’?” He laughs and pulls his fingers out, manhandling the younger boy to flip over and lay on his stomach instead.

He’s in the process of sliding his robe off when Felix starts to wiggle around too much for Chan’s liking, so he tsks and sends his palm onto the flesh of Felix’s ass. The younger yelps and halts his movements, allowing Chris to take hold of his wrists and pin them to his lower back.

Chris whistles and massages the reddening flesh of Felix’s ass, admiring just how red it got from one small spank. His tongue poked the side of lip as he grew distracted with thoughts of making them even more red, but was brought back down to earth by the whines coming from below him.

He shushes Felix and tightens the grip on his wrists. Then he moves his hand down to pump himself a few times, even putting a show onto circle his tip around Felix’s rim, much to the younger’s dismay.

“M-Man… Chris hurry the hell u-” He’s interrupted by a yelp caused by the much harsher slap to the same ass cheek as before. Chris huffs and his hand comes down on Felix’s other ass cheek, making the boy twitch with a whimper.

“Lose the ‘tude.” Chris finally pushes in, moving his hands to hold onto Felix’s hip in order to lift his ass up higher, making him rest on his knees instead of being flat on his stomach. Once he’s nearly bottomed out all the way, he gives Felix some time to get used to the feeling of being full and slithers that same hand down his stomach so he can wrap his hand around Felix’s dick.

“Oh my g-od… ‘So big-” His veiny hand pumps slowly, making the younger moan and clench harder around him, and making himself groan in response. “H-Hyung.. Please move. I-I can’t-” Chris hushes him, placing a kiss on his shoulder as he starts to move slowly. Felix shakes and arches his back, he’s still sensitive from the orgasm he had earlier and he can’t help but clench even harder at feeling so much fuller than he’s used to.

“F-Fuck.. You’re so tight Lix. You gotta relax, baby.”

Felix shivers and tightens his hands in the sheets as Chris squeezes his hips and thrusts his hips upwards experimentally. When Felix moans and arches his back, Chris moves to rest on his forearms near the younger boy’s head, nails digging into the sheets as his hips gradually grow rougher and rougher. He moves cautiously though, eyes locked onto Felix’s as the younger shakes beneath him.

Every time Chris bottoms out, Felix’s voice cracks in a moan. His small hands release the sheets in favor of digging his nails into Chris’ forearm. “Channie!” Chan responds by slamming his hips against Felix’s, bottoming out in one fell swoop. “Use your words, baby. Be a big boy and tell me what you want.”

“I need it faster Hyung- Please-” Chris fixes his posture and uses the grip on Felix’s hips to pull him backward. Then he slams his hips forward and pulls Felix back onto him at the same time, making the man below him silently scream. He repeats this action, harshly fucking into Felix and pulling him back onto him with each thrust.

Felix is drooling onto the sheets at this point, and Chris can feel his sanity slipping from him as he relishes in the feeling of Felix’s heat around his cock. Chris’ jaw drops and he breathes heavily as Felix’s ass milks him dry, his own cock twitching as it drips cum onto Chris’ sheets. 

They stay there for a moment, catching their breaths and calming down from their orgasms. Chris is the first to recover, pulling out of Felix slowly as if to tease him further. Felix shivers and swats his hand back at Chris with a whine. The older man laughs and holds him still until he’s finally out all the way, then his hands on Felix’s hips move to his ass cheeks, spreading him open and allowing him to watch his cum drip out of Felix’s gaping hole.

Felix’s head is still spinning, so he can’t bring himself to complain at Chris’ heavy gaze. He barely notices when he’s pulled to his feet, the only thing ground him being Chris’ thick lips pushing against his. It’s a short, sweet kiss. Just one that Chris used to make sure Felix was ok.

Once he’s sure, he leads Felix to his bathroom and digs in the cabinets for a washcloth to clean the younger man with. When he finds one and turns back around, his cock twitches back to life at the sight of Felix studying the hickeys and little red marks- soon to be bruises- on his hips. With a smile on his face.

Chris feels his cock twitch at the sight and he finds himself slowly stalking towards the bathroom mirror where he settles himself behind Felix, his arms wrapping around the younger's waist. Felix’s smile doesn’t falter as they make eye contact and Chris acts before he thinks, grinding his hips against Felix’s ass as his lips latch onto the boy’s shoulder.

Felix’s eyes widen and he laughs in disbelief, “You’re hard again??” Chris giggles against his skin and bites down, angling his hips to push his cock between Felix’s ass cheeks. “I wasn’t lying when I said you’ve been on my mind all week. ‘Been dreaming about fucking your brains out.”

One of Felix’s eyebrows cocks up and he bites his lips to hide his smirk, his inner brat coming back out now that he can think straight. “Who said you fucked my brains out? Last I checked I can still think properly.” Chris’ eyes roll in faux annoyance and he closes his eyes for a second, opening them back up with a fire in them as he pulls away from the new hickey he just left.

“Really?”

Felix smiles and reaches out to turn on the water for the washcloth, not expecting much more out of Chris right now considering he just came an insane amount inside of him- the cum still dripping down his thighs as they speak.

What he didn’t account for was how pent up Chris was. He didn’t know how bad his cock has ached the last few weeks for him, or how distracted and frustrated he’s been at work- unable to focus on anything but the thoughts of Felix below him at his mercy.

Chris doesn’t have much patience at this point, and even less self control, so it’s no surprise to himself when he angles Felix forward just slightly and slides a hand between them to slide his tip into the younger boy’s hole. It surprises Felix though, and his eyes roll into the back of his head as Chris sinks in all the way, his balls hitting his ass in the process

“W-Wait- Hyung-?” Felix’s fingers dig into the counter as Chris starts moving right off the bat. He’s had multiple orgasms in the last few hours and he can feel himself slipping into some sort of subspace as Chris’ hands sneak a tight grip into his hair.

“Hm. For somebody who’s ‘not fucking your brains out,’ you sure look like a brainless slut on my cock.” Felix moans loudly at Chris’ mean words, even more so at how unbothered he sounds, and his eyes snap open. His eyes quickly fall to the mirror in front of him and he shivers at the reminder of the hickeys littering his neck, feeling like he’s been claimed of sorts.

Chris’ eyes meet his in the mirror and he shakes aggressively when Chris thrusts harshly, his hand wrapping around Felix’s base at the same time. His hands move fast and Felix cries out as his orgasm builds insanely fast out of nowhere, the stinging feeling on his head only egging him on further. His body doesn’t give him anytime to warn Chris as he cums suddenly, his cock spurting onto the counter and some onto Chris’ hand.

He can see the smirk grow on Chris face, but his overstimulated body could care less about that, only focused on the squeeze around his cock. His own hand bolts down to Chris’ and he moans at the difference in the size of them. He wraps his hand around Chris’ wrist instead and tries to pull him away, only for Chris to squeeze him tighter and growl into his ear.

“Wait...” Felix shakes his head as tears prick his eyes. Chris would normally stop himself and allow the other person some time to breathe, but he feels this is a sufficient punishment for Felix trying to brat out- just for him to fail anyway.

The hand in his hair moves in favor of pinching his nipples and Felix’s eyes roll shut at the extra attention on his body. His legs shake almost nonstop and he can barely hold himself up. But despite all the overstimulation, his hips still push back against Chris’, making the older man huff out a laugh.

Soon enough Chris’s hand releases Felix’s cock, allowing him to breathe for a moment, and only a moment, because that hand digs into the muscles on Felix’s thigh and lifts it up. He angles his leg to rest his knee on the counter, allowing Chris to thrust even deeper now.

“Chris… I’m- shit!” His head drops and his arms shake, struggling to hold himself up. The new depth mixed with the sensitivity of his entire body makes Felix clench constantly around Chris.

“Gonna cum again, angel? ‘S Channie gonna make you cum again?” His voice wavers as he talks, his own orgasm dangerously close.

Felix’s chest heaves as he cums and Chris follows, a string of curses leaving his lips as he pushes them against Felix’s jawline. As he continues fucking into Felix to ride out his orgasm, Felix cums again, this time with a desperate cry that makes his voice crack and the tears in his eyes finally fall. Chris pulls out suddenly and holds Felix tightly against his chest as he jerks the younger off, making him convulse in his hold.

He whimpers and digs his nails into any part of Chris that he can reach, leaving red marks in his hand’s wake. He only calms down once Chris releases him fully, causing him to sob quietly at the overstimulation.

“You okay?” Felix nods slowly and leans back, putting all his weight on Chris as he feels his mind hovering elsewhere. Chris recognizes the general signs of subspace all too easily, having already experienced it multiple times with their girlfriend, and he chuckles lowly. “Shower time and then we’ll cuddle to sleep.”

He leaves no room for disagreements, and even if Felix could talk, he wouldn’t bother. So he simply holds onto Chris tightly as the older man washes his body off, being cautious when cleaning below his belly button. They only separate for a minute or so, so that Chris could wash himself off again, before they’re stepping out of the shower.

Chris manages to dress Felix then himself in a few minutes, laughing to himself when Felix wobbles over to the bed and throws himself onto it. Felix whines loudly when Chris doesn’t join him right away, and then again when he realizes Chris is trying to speed clean the mess they left.

“I’m coming, I’m coming~” He giggles and hurriedly tosses their clothes into a combined pile out of the way before sliding under the sheets. “Anything hurt?” Chris’s fingers soothe Felix’s scalp and the younger of the two’s head bobs as he feels sleep pulling him. “Uh-uh” He doesn’t bother shaking his head and just melts into the warm embrace.

“Sleepy…”

“Go to sleep, Lixie. I’m not going anywhere, pinky promise.”

The morning after is colder than he expected. Chris wakes up to an empty bed, and the revelation makes his heart feel emptier than ever. He lifts his head briefly to scan the room, and then closes his eyes in relief when he sees Felix’s clothes still in a pile with his own clothes from last night’s events. Then, the sound of familiar laughter coming from elsewhere in the apartment immediately comforts him.

“Morning sleepyhead. Care to explain why Felix came out of your room last night, in clothes that are deeeefinitely not his?” The shit eating smile on their girlfriend's face makes his face flush, even more so when he realized that Felix kept quiet in order to let him decide what to tell them. ‘Not well behaved’ my ass. Just gotta fuck the brat out of you.

He clears his throat to hide a laugh and shakes his head. “Straight to the point. Can’t even let me have my morning coffee before I get interrogated?” She rolls her eyes at him but smiles and doesn’t press further. “I expect details later!” She places a kiss on his cheek and then runs off to the living room to join Hyunjin in watching some artsy YouTube video, allowing Chris and Felix to have some space to talk.

“Good morning, Lix.” He leans over the younger man and husks out into his ear teasingly, caging him in with his arms planted on either side of the counter. “Slept well?”

“Like a fucking baby…” Felix’s neck flushes and they both giggle quietly. “Good morning, though. Sorry I left you alone in bed, I heard them out here and got ‘FOMO.’”

Chris smiles and shakes his head, “It’s ok, I was a bit sad but I guess it’s best to not lay in bed all morning.” Chris makes his coffee immediately after he separates from Felix, using the coffee they had made before he woke up to do so. He notices Felix doesn’t leave him after that. Had he not known the boy for the last decade almost, he would have been confused as to why. But the nervous picking at his fingernails gives him away to his leader all too easily.

“Sit with me? What’s on your mind, Lix?” 

He makes a face of surprise before smiling and shaking his head knowingly. “Might sound dumb, but I just wanna know- Like… So what now?” His voice drops almost to a whisper as he finds the confidence to ask such a heavy question, and he’s happy when he does when Chris smiles sweetly and tilts his head.

“Now… You’re mine and I’m yours.” Felix smiles and bites his lips, playing around with his fingers in excitement.

“Mhm… What does this mean for everybody else then?”

“Whatever you want it to mean. Baby girl and Han will still love you the same as before- if anything the three of you might unite against me into some sort of fucking brat-brigade.” He rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his coffee, smiling into the cup when Felix bursts out laughing. 

“Oh… And since we’re on the topic of ‘everybody else’…” Chris clears his throat and cracks his neck to shake the bits of shyness he feels. “Last night when you said you hadn’t talked to any of the others ‘yet’… Is that something you want?”

Felix’s face flushes and he laughs nervously. “Yeah… I think so. I’m not sure who would want me like that, but I’d be open to all of them to be honest. I think Hannie feels the same, but I think we both know he has a favorite he would want the most.” Both men laugh and Chris scoots his chair closer to Felix.

Once he’s close enough, he slugs his arm around Felix’s shoulders and pulls the younger into him. “Let me help you then, yeah? Make your life a little easier.” Felix’s eyebrows widen and he snaps his head up to see a soft smile on Chan’s face followed by those thick lips pushing against his temple. “Whatever my babies want, my babies get.”

“...Even if that means conquering all of our friends in bed.”

Taglist: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams

@maisyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @paborachaslvt

@aeri-skzver

[81folklore]

i can do it with a broken heart - f1 grid

parings: gn!driver!reader x platonic!f1!grid x ex!jacob elordi

summary: after yn and their ex break up, they carry on as best they can and no one had any idea how bad they were struggling

type: social media au (smau)

notes: george is in this but he does not drive for mercedes, yn does. i also used a mixture of fem and masc pictures because i couldnt decide and thought you could just imagine whatever you wish!!

notes 2: probably the longest fic ive done so far but im pretty proud of it. the time stamps above each section are semi important so i would keep an eye on them!! also i know ive been gone for so long but i do not promise ill be back. alsoooo i know i only included a bit of the grid but i kept getting distracted and then couldn’t figure out how to include everyone!!

masterlist

march 2024

twitter

charles oh my god i cant believe my cat is finally the pfp

i have been waiting for YEARS

max yes well you better enjoy it because it’ll change soon and you’ll be back to waiting again.

lando jesus max do you have to use punctuation???

alex be glad he doesnt use captials

oscar one thing at a time lando, we dont want to scare him

max ???

lando anyway

yn mate you ok?

yourname im fine? ur scaring me you never ask how i am

lando yeah but usually your not single

lewis oh no! you and jacob split?

yourname yeah, wasnt working anymore

charles ah im sorry, that must suck😣

yourname i mean it does but its been coming for a long time so its not surprising

fernando hello! yn what is wrong? you always use emotes!

yourname theyre emojis nando, and im fine just a bit lost

fernando do not worry, i will come and find you!

yourname no, i dont mean literally just..we were together for so long i dont really know what to do now you know?

lando i get it, you wanna play tarkov with me???

yourname cheers ill get on now

george let us know if you need anything!

may 2024

yourusername

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and 814,583 others

p✌️ was just what we needed this weekend!

thank you to everyone who came out and supported myself and the team and huge thank you to the team for working so hard all weekend⭐️

view comments

mercedesamgf1 mega job this weekend yn👊 *liked by author*

landonorris nice to share the podium with you mate

yourusername same time next race?

user33 loved seeing you back on the podium

user2 absolutely smashing it this season

user21 more podiums please🤲 *liked by author*

user3 fourth podium of the year first p✌️*liked by author*

twitter

*pretend it says after march i changed dates around last min*

august 2024

yourusername

liked by lukehemmings, charles_leclerc and 1,124,642 others

did some reading, painting and writing

baked some good food and spent time with some good people, also got a cat…not bad for summer break☀️

view comments

user66 AHHHHHH

yourusername ahhhhhhh

user26 cats name plsplspls

yourusername norman🐱

lukehemmings nice music👍

yourusername woah arent you the guy who wrote mum?!

mercedesamgf1 ready to see you back on the podium

yourusername always!!!!

user74 have you had funnnn??

yourusername yesss!! ive been doing lots of things i enjoy, basically treating every day as my birthday😋

twitter

*was supposed to write them instead of her sorry!! was doing two stories at once and kept getting mixed up😅*

october 2024

yourusername

liked by mercedesamgf1, gracieabrams and 1,291,638 others

p☝️ for the 3rd time this season, very very pleased

huuuuuge thank you to the team, every single one of you who worked tirelessly over the summer break and every moment since then, these have been for you⭐️

view comments

user55 what a good season to be a yn fan *liked by author*

user6 these races have been incredible to watch, so proud

yourusername ⭐️⭐️

gracieabrams woop woop!!!!

yourusername 😝😝

user2 gracie??

user41 why have we not had any personal photo dumps yet😕😕

user88 right we miss seeing you yn!!

yourusername sorry guys😣ive been suuuper busy working on something i just honestly forgot

user41 NEW PROJECT?? WHEN?? (also pls dont feel bad we love u)

yourusername soon!! (and i love u guys too)

twitter

november 2024

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, lewishamilton and 3,689,921 others

tagged: taylorswift

i cannot believe i get to say this, but my new friend taylor just released a new album and i was able to write a song on the album

im honestly not sure how this came about but i had so much fun writing this and expressing all my thoughts and feelings in a way ive never done before

i poured my life and soul into this song and im so glad taylor is the one who is singing it and really bought it to life

send some love to my friend and go and stream THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT (most importantly i can do it with a broken heart😉)

comments have been limited

taylorswift thank you for trusting me with this song, so much love🤍

yourusername NO THANK YOU!!! i will be forever grateful⭐️⭐️

twitter

yourusername added to their story

seen by taylorswift, lewishamilton and 729,282 others

charles i feel completely betrayed yn

fernando oh no😟! what did yn do?

charles THEY DIDNT TELL ME THEY WERE WRITING A SONG??

AND WITH TAYLOR SWIFT HOW COULD YOU☹️☹️

yourname sorry charles, surprise?!

charles ill forgive you because its a good song

yourname thank you my life just got infinitely better!

yuki very good song yn! has been on repeat☺️

yourname thanks yuki, glad you like it!!

lando I LOVE IT TOO

but seriously are you ok?!

yourname yeahhh im better now

was just a lot to navigate

lewis glad you found an outlet! but remember you can always talk to any of us

yourname i know and i appreciate it, i really do

alex yn was that twitter thread right?

yourname mate youre going to have to elaborate

alex user56tweetlink

yourname oh pretty much yeah

some things were changed with taylor but not much

fernando just listened to the song yn! very nice👍well done!

yourname thank uu

max good song yn!

now

lando can you please tell me what you meant on your twitch stream!

oscar max is kind of scary

max dont make me talk about that interview next oscar!