#That's the kind of person I unknowingly became

[linoxpudding]

Written In The Stars- Lee Know

summary: he's your soulmate, but he's already in love with someone else

pairing: lee know x fem!reader

genre: angst, soulmate au, unrequited love

word count: 1828 words

a/n: this was requested, really loved this concept— should I do part 2? 👀

PART 2

Masterlist

~°~

You had always dreamed of meeting your soulmate. As a hopeless romantic, you had imagined it all—the instant connection, the rush of emotions, the realization that this was the person meant for you.

From the time you were little, you'd trace the blank space on your wrist, imagining the mark that would one day bloom there—the sign of your destined person. Stories of soulmates finding each other had filled your heart with longing, whispering promises of a love so deep, so undeniable, that nothing could stand in its way.

And then on a fateful morning, three months after you turned thirteen, it happened.

A delicate star-shaped pattern shimmered on your wrist, fading from golden light into solid ink.

This was it.

Your breath had caught in your throat, your heart pounding as you traced over the pattern with shaking fingers. It was real.

Your soulmate was out there.

And you were going to find them.

************

You had spent years searching—watching, waiting, hoping. But soulmarks were unpredictable. Some people found their destined person right away. Others searched for years, only to meet their soulmate at the most unexpected moment.

For you, it happened through Bang Chan.

************

You had known Chan for a while now, having met through mutual friends, and occasionally you hung out with his group that consisted of your mutual friends from college. One evening, he invited you over for a casual get-together at his place. You had no idea how much your life was about to change.

When you arrived, laughter and conversation filled the apartment. People greeted you warmly, but your attention was drawn to him.

Lee Minho. 

There was something about him that intrigued you. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, confident yet not overbearing. Maybe it was his sharp eyes that held mischief and mystery. He was handsome, almost unfairly so, with an aura that pulled attention effortlessly.

The moment you met, there was some sort of instant spark. 

As the night went on, he was leaning back in his chair, eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched you argue with Jisung, another close friend of Chan that he introduced you to, over some ridiculous topic. And then he joined in.

The two of you had gone back and forth for at least ten minutes, teasing and taunting each other like you had known each other for years.

“Wow,” Minho had finally said, crossing his arms with a smirk, “Chan, where have you been hiding this one?”

Chan had laughed, “Right? I knew you two would get along.”

And from that moment on, you did.

The banter was easy, natural, like a rhythm you had both unknowingly fallen into. He would throw a jab, and you would return it without missing a beat. It became something of a game— one that neither of you acknowledged but played anyway. 

After that night at Chan’s place, you and Minho exchanged numbers, a silent agreement to keep in touch. But life was busy— too busy for long conversations or one-on-one meetings. Your interactions were limited to occasional group hangouts, fleeting moments where you’d exchange teasing remarks and match each other’s humor effortlessly.

For a while that was enough, until you saw the mark.

************

It happened weeks later, on a movie night at Changbin and Hyunjin’s place. It was a casual kind of movie night where everyone showed up in sweats, curled into couches with blankets draped over their laps, trading playful jabs between mouthfuls of popcorn. The air smelled like butter and cinnamon-scented candles, and the TV flickered with a half-watched movie as conversations overlapped.

Minho sat across from you, comfortably leaning into the cushions, his usual smirk in place as he fired off another joke. The room erupted into laughter, but yours was the loudest— it always was when it came to him. It was effortless, the way the two of you fell into banter, the way he made you laugh like no one else could.

And then, in the midst of it all, he reached for his coffee.

It was such a small thing, so inconsequential, yet it changed everything.

His sleeve rode up slightly, exposing the inside of his wrist for the briefest moment. But that moment was enough.

Your laughter faded. Your pulse stilled.

Because there, etched into his skin, was your mark.

The very same pattern you had spent your whole life tracing absentmindedly, the one you had dreamed of seeing on someone else one day. On your soulmate.

Lee Minho was your soulmate.

The world should have stopped. This should have been the moment where everything clicked into place, where the universe finally made sense. But before the thought could fully form, a voice cut through the haze.

“Sorry, babe. I’m late.”

A woman appeared beside him, her tone light, affectionate. She leaned in without hesitation, pressing a kiss to his lips as her hand came to rest on his shoulder like she had done it a hundred times before.

Minho turned to her, his smirk softening into something warmer, something real. It was love.

You thought you knew him well enough. Well enough to anticipate his dry jokes, to recognize the mischievous glint in his eye before he spoke. But clearly not well enough to know he had a girlfriend.

And that was when you knew. Minho wasn’t waiting for a soulmate. Because he was already in love with someone else.

You barely remembered the rest of that night. You smiled, you laughed when appropriate, you responded to conversations, but your mind was elsewhere. On him. On her. On the way he looked at her, touched her, stood beside her like she was his world.

And that realization destroyed you.

************

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

The mark wasn’t a command. It wasn’t a guarantee of love, just a promise that this was the person who was meant to understand you like no one else could.

So you stayed.

Not because you were waiting. Not because you were hoping. But because leaving felt impossible.

Chan’s group became your own, and Minho was always there—laughing, teasing, existing so effortlessly in your world. 

At first, it was unbearable.

Every time he absentmindedly rubbed the mark on his wrist, a quiet frown flickering across his face, your stomach twisted. Did he feel it too? Did he ever wonder?

But then his girlfriend would call, and he would answer with a voice so gentle it made you want to scream.

She was perfect. Kind, beautiful, talented, and Minho loved her. He was happy.

And you? You were just his friend with the same mark.

************

The months that followed felt like moving through water—slow, heavy, suffocating.

You tried convincing yourself that nothing had changed. That Minho was still just a friend, a fleeting presence in your life, someone you saw in passing at group hangouts and laughed with over inside jokes. But knowing the truth made every interaction feel heavier, every lingering glance, every easy banter laced with something you couldn’t ignore.

And yet, he remained blissfully unaware. He didn’t know. He didn’t see.

Not until that night.

The party at your friend’s penthouse was loud, the music thrumming through the walls, laughter and conversation bleeding together into a dull hum. But you weren’t part of it. Instead, you stood in the dimly lit kitchen, gripping the counter so tightly your knuckles turned white, trying to steady yourself against the weight in your chest.

You weren’t sure why you had come. Maybe some part of you still craved the normalcy of being around him, of pretending nothing had changed. Maybe you were just tired of avoiding him.

“Hey,” he greeted you, entering the kitchen. His voice was soft, but it made your stomach drop, “You're still here?”

You didn’t turn right away. You couldn’t. You replied weakly, “Yeah, needed a breather.”

He hummed, reaching for a glass of water. His movements were effortless, casual—until he caught sight of your wrist.

His body went rigid beside you. His eyes flickered from your mark to his own. You felt it before you saw it— the way the air shifted, the sharp intake of his breath, the stillness that settled between you like a physical thing. 

You felt your chest tighten.

“…It’s you,” he whispered.

Slowly, hesitantly, you followed his gaze down to your wrist.

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

You watched as realization hit him like a crashing wave, his expression flickering through shock, confusion, and something deeper—something you didn’t want to name.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

And then, finally, he did.

“But…” His voice was quiet, almost fragile. He swallowed, staring at you like he wished he could unsee it. “But I love her.”

Three words.

Three words that carved into you deeper than you thought possible.

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, to absorb the quiet devastation in his eyes— the same devastation mirrored in your own.

“I know,” you said, offering him a small, trembling smile. “I know, it's okay.”

His head snapped up, his eyes dark with something unreadable. “No, it’s not.”

And that was the difference between you.

You had spent weeks coming to terms with the inevitable, had learned to swallow down the ache every time you saw him with her. But for him, this was the first time. This was his moment of realization, and it was breaking him apart in real time.

His voice was rough when he spoke again, like he was fighting against something he didn’t understand. “How long have you known?”

Your lips parted, the answer lingering on the tip of your tongue. But what would that change?

“Does it matter?” you asked softly, finally meeting his gaze.

His jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with frustration— at you, at himself, at the cruel twist of fate that had led you here.

“I should’ve known,” he muttered, shaking his head, his voice filled with something raw and painful. “I should have—”

“Minho.”

Your voice was steadier than you felt. He looked at you then, really looked at you, and you could see it—the weight of it, the way his heart and mind waged a silent war.

He didn’t want to hurt you. But he loved her.

You reached for him before you could stop yourself, your fingers just barely brushing against his wrist before pulling away. A silent offering. A silent goodbye.

“It’s okay,” you repeated, softer this time. “You love her.”

And that was the end of it.

Minho exhaled, a shaky, uneven breath. He opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something, anything, but no words came.

There was nothing left to say.

So you smiled, even as your heart cracked, even as you felt the finality of it settle into your bones. And then you turned, slipping out of the kitchen and back into the party, leaving Minho alone with the mark that had changed everything.

Minho was never meant to be yours.

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

Taglist:

@kaiyaba @lov3rachan @pixie-felix @ellemir2404 @willowhanji @skzimagines @wavetohannie @jamroses @kayleefriedchicken @kokinu09 @nightmarenyxx @vietjeb @my-neurodivergent-world

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 01/10/2024 Max Verstappen- Voyerism

Plot: Max cannot help but take pictures or videos of you whenever you guys get heated! But what happens when he’s leaving you for a long time.

Warnings: Kinktober, Smut, pillow humping, VOYERISM, masturbation, watched unknowingly etc. 18+ Minors DNI

Max was obsessed with you.

Not in like a creepy stalker way, but in a more … you were his person kind of way.

Every time you came to a race, all he would do is follow you around. His team? Didn’t exist. Christian Horner? Who is that? Sergio Perez? Not sure who you mean.

His interviews were 90% staring at you and 10% listening and answering the interviewer. It actually got to the point, that even though it wasn’t affecting his driving Christian threatened to black-list you from all F1 races.

Max of course didn’t take this lightly.

Due to Max’s obsession with you, when you couldn’t attend race weekends he was sort of lost, just in this limbo area of his mind with nothing to do. Especially if you were doing a modelling gig and didn’t have much time throughout the day to answer him.

So he started to film you, in your more intimate moments to feel closer to you when you were away as the more you started to do, the bigger you were getting and the bigger you got the more you were booked in for.

But it didn’t stop there, once he got to a race weekend and became particularly frustrated he realised how much these videos helped him let off some steam when you weren’t there to help him.

Of course you knew about the videos. It was something fun for you and Max to do to liven up your sex life when you were together.

But then Max became obsessed with the idea of you not knowing when he was playing these videos just for himself. You were unassuming at a shoot, strutting your stuff and he was there tangled up in the sheets of a hotel room in Italy, using one hand to jerk himself off while the other held up his second video of the two of you of the night.

When he would come home, he’d start to watch you get undressed and shower from the crack in the bathroom door that he needed to get fixed but because he felt like he was never home he didn’t ever bother. He would make sure to tell you wrong times that he would get home, just at the off chance he might be able to catch you in a private moment to yourself, hearing those little noises you made and calling out his name as if you knew he was there.

Then came the bedroom camera. Max never told you about this camera, why would he … it was his apartment after all. That’s what he told himself when he was thinking of the idea.

It was one of those motion-activated ones, and he installed it just before a triple header, above the wardrobe in between two show boxes, and unless you were looking specifically for a camera you definitely wouldn’t be able to see it.

“Bye baby I’m going to miss you! Look I’ll try and make it out to your home race. But good luck for the first ones, I love you so so much” you smiled at him kissing all over his face.

“Mmmm I’ll miss you too, don’t know how I’ll last without my gorgeous girl” he sighs before leaving.

But that was a lie, he knew exactly how he would last without you. He knew that camera in the bedroom would make him feel as though he was at home with you. Even if he was just watching you sleep or get changed like he normally did when you both got ready with each other in the mornings.

He waited and waited, pulling his phone out every-time the custom haptic vibration he’d made for the app that linked the camera to his phone so he knew what it was buzzed..

Mostly it was just you doing house chores and bringing washing back to the bedroom to put it away in the closets or changing the bedsheets now that he’d be gone for three weeks so they’d be fresh for when he was back home. He missed you changing the first time because he was out with Lando, Oscar and Charles playing Paddle and his phone was in his gym bag.

He of course rewatched it but he just sort of found it sweet watching you do the same routine you did even when he wasn’t there, only missing out a few steps that normally involved him.

It wasn’t until the night before his first race that he was laying in his hotel room, exhausted from the day he’d had in qualifying and staying late to train on the sim against the teams orders that he saw you more intimately on the cameras.

You’d come into the room rather naturally actually. You had a large cup of water with ice and a straw which wasn’t uncommon for you before you went to bed. You then sat on top of the duvet covers with your back propped up with the pillows against the back board as you put something on the TV.

And you pretty much got through the whole film just watching it drinking your water slowly and eating the snacks you’d brought with you.

He saw you get a little fidgety towards the end but you never were one for sitting still for long periods of time. So he didn’t think anything off it and nearly clicked off for the night until you got your phone up.

He immediately saw the bite of your lip as you started scrolling.

He sat up more awake and alert than he had been the last hour of watching you on and off while you watched your film. He was curious about what was on your phone that was making you bite your lip.

However once he heard the audio come from your phone he was all too familiar with what you were watching. It was a video he’d taken during the last time you guys had had sex with one another. He knew immediately because of what he said at the start of the video.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me while I’m gone?” And when he heard himself say that, he could feel something in him stir.

It excited him, the thought that you were just as desperate and needy as he was.

He watched as one hand travelled down into your silk shorts as you spread you legs open giving you easier access. He watched as you hand grazed over you clit, he couldn’t see much right now with those shorts still on but the light airy moan that he heard through the cameras audio was enough to let him know what your fingers had just brushed against.

He couldn’t even really tell if you were just rubbing yourself through your panties or if you’d pulled them to the side and he wanted to know more. He wanted and needed to see more.

When you made that face, the one where something stated to feel really good that’s when he knew you’d dipped your fingers in a little further, only to test the waters. Your legs closed around your hand as he could hear those sweet noises still coming from you.

You attempted to prop the phone up against your knees but he could see your frustration as it kept sliding down at an angle you could view it.

Max was already hard as a rock from just watching you lightly touch yourself but when you spun round so that you were facing away from him, propping the phone up on the top of the headboard and placing a pillow underneath you he pulled himself right out of his pants.

He almost felt like a pervert but he convinced himself if he told you what he’d done or was doing you’d love the idea. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

His hand rubbed quickly up and down his length as he watched you hump a pillow, which was of course one of his usual ones. Your moans came through the camera way clearer than he had expected.

What caught him and nearly had him letting go of that growing feeling was when you moaned his name.

“Max, fuck please” you’d groaned and the camera had picked it up perfectly, his jaw dropped and his hand sped up seeing the stuttering of your hips into the pillow meaning you were also close.

He kept watching you completely obsessed with everything he was seeing.

“Come on baby, come for me” he called and as if you’d heard him you were shaking, moaning and gasping into the other pillows while your hips drove down into the pillow riding out your high.

Max came watching that wet spot grow on your panties from the angle your currently were at. He couldn’t believe that this was only the begging of the night. And when you turned round pulling your underwear off and you went into the special draw by your shared bed, he knew you’d both be in for a long long night.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[ch0llies]

FOREVER NOW | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

You and Chris have been tied together by an invisible string ever since you met at 10. As you grew older, Chris became your safe place. He was always there, unknowingly shaping himself into the person you’d eventually fall in love with. By the time you were 18, you had become each other’s first everything- first kiss, first love, first promise that neither of you could ever belong to anyone else the way you belonged to each other. And now, standing in the bathroom with ten pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, that promise felt heavier than ever.

story warnings: fluff, smut, creampie, heavy breeding kink, pregnancy, established relationship, etc… if any of these topics upset you… don’t read!

word count: 6k

a/n: thank you so much for 1k followers!! i love you all so much!!

The rain taps gently against the window. Your shared apartment is dimly lit, warm, filled with the faint trace of Chris’s cologne- the kind of smell that feels like home, like safety.

Chris is beside you on the couch, one arm draped lazily over your legs, his other hand scrolling absentmindedly through his phone. The TV plays some old movie in the background, half-forgotten.

Your fingers trace small circles on his forearm, the soft fabric of his hoodie warmed by his skin. He hums in contentment, shifting just enough to glance at you.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” he asks, voice soft, familiar.

You smile, but your mind is elsewhere, caught in the years before this moment. Because this love didn’t start here.

It started long before.

FIFTH GRADE.

You met Chris at ten years old, standing awkwardly in the doorway of your parents’ friend’s house.

“This is Chris,” your mom said, nudging you forward.

He had messy brown hair, an oversized hoodie, and a smile that made you think he probably got in trouble at school a lot.

He gave you a shy nod. “Hi.”

You stared for a moment, then mumbled, “Hi.”

The adults left you alone, and somehow, within an hour, you were arguing over who could beat who in Bedwars. By the time your parents came back, you were already thick as thieves, plotting some grand scheme to get extra dessert at dinner.

From that day on you couldn’t remember a memory that he wasn’t in.

EIGHTH GRADE

You learned that heartbreak could come before high school.

There was a boy- your first real crush. He was charming, sweet, made you feel special. Until, suddenly, he didn’t.

You found out from a friend that he had been texting someone else the entire time. That everything he said to you, he said to her too.

Chris found you at the park that night, sitting on the swings, kicking at the dirt, trying not to cry.

He sat next to you without a word. Just there. Present. Until you were ready.

“I really liked him,” you admitted eventually, voice small.

Chris scoffed. “Yeah, well, he’s an idiot.”

You sniffled, glancing at him. “You think?”

Chris nodded firmly. “Obviously. He had you and still wanted someone else? That’s just stupid.”

Something about the way he said it, so certain, made your heart feel just a little lighter.

You didn’t know it then, but that was the first time Chris made you feel like you were worth more than the people who hurt you.

It wouldn’t be the last.

JUNIOR YEAR.

Prom was supposed to be perfect.

Instead, your date cheated. Chris’s date bailed.

And somehow, you ended up at prom together- dressed up, but ditching the actual dance for a late-night drive, fast food in hand, sitting on the hood of his car in the school parking lot.

“You think we’re cursed?” you joked, pulling a fry from the bag.

Chris smirked, leaning back on his palms. “Or maybe we just keep picking the wrong people.”

You glanced at him then- at the way the Boston lights reflected in his eyes, at the way he always showed up when no one else did.

For a moment, you almost said something. Almost realized something.

But instead, you just smiled. “Guess we’re each other’s backup plan now, huh?”

Chris had looked down at his feet and let out an almost sad sounding chuckle, “Guess so.”

But he didn’t feel like a backup plan.

Not even then.

SENIOR YEAR.

It wasn’t sudden.

It wasn’t a grand, dramatic moment where everything clicked into place.

It was gradual. Like the slow rising of the sun, creeping into your life until one day, you realized- he had always been the light.

Chris had always been there. Through every heartbreak, through every bad decision, through every night spent crying over people who didn’t deserve you.

And then one day, you just knew.

It was late, past midnight, the two of you lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, laughing about something dumb, something unimportant. And then the laughter faded, and suddenly, the air felt different.

Chris was looking at you. Really looking at you.

And for the first time, you didn’t look away.

Your heartbeat quickened. You swallowed.

“Chris.”

He shifted, his fingers barely brushing against yours between the sheets. “Yeah?”

You took a breath.

“I- I think it’s always been you.”

Silence.

His breath hitched, but his fingers curled around yours, holding tight.

“I-” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “God, I was scared to say it first.”

Your chest ached, but for the first time, it wasn’t painful. It was full.

You smiled, biting your lip. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes soft, full of something you had been searching for in everyone else but only ever found in him.

And then he kissed you.

And everything made sense.

Back in the apartment, Chris shifts beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re thinking too much again,” he murmurs.

You shake your head, smiling softly. “Just remembering.”

He hums. “Good memories?”

“The best.”

Chris tilts his head, studying you. “Wanna share?”

You turn to face him, meeting the gaze of the boy who had always been there, who had never let you go.

The rain outside is still steady and you let your head rest against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Safe. Home.

“You ever think about soulmates?” you ask, voice quiet but certain.

Chris smirks, locking his phone and setting it aside. “Yeah.”

You lift a brow, tilting your head to look up at him. “Oh really? Always been me?”

He chuckles, low and warm, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaning back against the couch. “Yes, my love. Always been you.”

Your heart swells. Even after all these years, hearing it still makes something in your chest ache in the best way.

Chris shifts, pulling you even closer, wrapping his arms around you completely, tucking your head under his chin. You sigh against his hoodie, breathing him in, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his thigh.

For a while, you just exist like that- wrapped up in each other, listening to the rain, the outside world feeling so far away.

Then Chris hums. “What do you wanna do for dinner?”

You tilt your head, thinking. “What about some PF Chang’s?”

His face lights up. “That sounds incredible.”

You grin, watching as he grabs his phone and pulls up DoorDash, immediately placing the order without hesitation. Because it’s the city, and neither of you want to go out in the rain when food can be delivered straight to your door.

When the food arrives, you both sit on the couch, containers spread out on the coffee table. You grab a pair of chopsticks, but Chris, like always, opts for a fork, shooting you a smug look like he’s superior for it.

“You’re so uncultured,” you tease, grabbing a dumpling.

Chris snorts. “I just don’t like fighting for my food.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it- just warmth, just love.

As you eat, the conversation shifts to your future, like it always does.

“What about baby names?” Chris muses, stealing a bite of your lo mein like it’s his. “What do you like?”

You smirk. “You planning on knocking me up tonight or something?”

Chris smirks. “Definitely planning on fuckin’ you but, getting you pregnant? We’ll see.”

You shrug nonchalantly, picking up a garlic noodle with your chopstick. “I still want you to cum inside me tonight regardless.”

He chokes on his food, coughing as he glares at you. “Jesus, give me a warning before you say stuff like that. I’m gonna get hard.”

You laugh, nudging his shoulder. “I’m serious, though. You ever think about it? Baby names, becoming parents, getting me pregnant…?

Chris swallows, setting his container down before shifting to look at you fully. His expression softens, thoughtful. “Yeah,” he admits. “I have.”

You raise a brow. “And?”

He smirks. “You first.”

You sigh dramatically, leaning back into the couch, pretending to think. “I like the name Owen for a boy,” you say eventually. “And maybe Elliot for a girl. Her nickname would be Ellie”

Chris nods. “Owen? That’s my middle name. But Ellie is really cute. I like that.”

“Yeah, goof. It would be named after you, handsome. But what about you?”

He leans forward, resting his chin in his hand as he blushes softly. “I’ve always liked the name Weston for a boy,” he says, glancing at you. “And for a girl… maybe Aria.”

You smile. “Aria is cute.”

Chris nudges you. “So, our kid’s name is either Owen, Ellie, Weston, or Aria. Got it.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart swells anyway. “I can’t imagine having a kid anytime soon.”

Chris grins, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “No rush,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder. “We’ve got time.”

You melt into him, fingers threading through his hair.

“Okay, more future talk,” he says after a moment. “Houses. Where do we end up?”

You hum. “Do you wanna stay in Boston?”

Chris tilts his head. “I like Boston, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter. Maybe something coastal? A place where we can sit on the porch and watch the sunrise. What about my family's cape house?”

You smile. “That sounds perfect.”

Chris grins, tapping his fingers lightly against your back. “Can you imagine being as a full time suburban dad?”

You snicker. “Hard to imagine you giving up city life and inheriting Matt’s minivan to truck our kids around.”

Chris groans. “Please never let me get that goddamn minivan.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Deal.”

The remnants of dinner are still scattered across the coffee table- half-empty takeout containers, crumpled napkins, chopsticks resting haphazardly in cartons, four empty pepsi cans. Chris groans, stretching his arms before nudging you with his knee.

“You ready to clean this up?” he asks, though he doesn’t look like he wants to move any more than you do.

You sigh dramatically, leaning back against the couch. “Or… we could just leave it here and deal with it in the morning.”

Chris snorts. “No way. You hate waking up to a mess.”

You grumble, knowing he’s right. “Fine. But you’re taking out the trash.”

“Deal.”

The two of you move in sync, cleaning up without much thought- him stacking the containers, you wiping down the table. Domesticity has always been easy with Chris, effortless in a way that feels like breathing. It’s not something you ever have to think about; it just is.

Once the apartment is back in order, you stretch, letting out a soft yawn.

Chris grins, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin against your shoulder. “Bed?”

“Yes.”

You slip into the bathroom while Chris grabs water for both of you. The space is warm, the soft yellow glow of the vanity lights reflecting off the marble. You change into one of your favorite comfy outfits- an oversized, faded navy sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder, exposing the thin strap of your lace bralette underneath, paired with soft gray Calvin Klein boyshorts that hug your hips just right.

The fabric of the sweatshirt nearly swallows you, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs, the sleeves hanging just past your wrists. It smells like detergent, a little like Chris, a little like the home you’ve built together.

By the time you start brushing your teeth, Chris enters, setting the water bottles on the counter before glancing at you in the mirror.

His eyes darken immediately, lips parting slightly as he takes you in- the way the sweatshirt slips off your shoulder, the way your shorts sit snug on your curves.

“You trying to kill me, baby?” he mutters, voice thick.

You smirk around your toothbrush. “I just put on something comfortable.”

Chris shakes his head, stepping closer behind you, his hands skimming the edge of the sweatshirt before resting low on your hips. “Yeah? This is comfortable?”

You nod, watching his gaze flick between your reflection and the way his hands trace slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

You fumble your phone, and it slips from the counter, landing with a soft thud on the floor.

You sigh through your toothbrush, bending over to grab it.

And that’s when you hear it.

A sharp inhale. The softest curse under Chris’s breath.

“Fuck, baby.”

Before you can straighten, his hands slide over your hips, firm but reverent. One palm presses against the small of your back, the other smoothing over your ass, fingers flexing as if he can’t help himself.

You swallow hard, heat creeping up your spine as you grip the sink for balance.

Chris leans in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You still up for that promise, baby?” His voice is low, gravelly, dripping with want.

Your breath hitches. “What promise?” you ask, playing coy.

Chris chuckles, dark and knowing, his fingers pressing a little more insistently into your skin. “The one where you let me cum inside you.”

Your heart pounds, the weight of his words sending a shiver down your spine. You meet his gaze in the mirror, and the heat in his eyes makes your knees weak.

Chris smirks, running his hands up your sides before spinning you to face him fully. His fingers slide under the hem of your sweatshirt, gripping your waist as he pulls you closer.

“You still want that?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours.

Your answer is immediate.

“Yes.”

Chris’s smirk deepens, satisfaction flickering in his darkened gaze. His grip tightens just enough to make you shiver, his fingertips pressing into your skin like he wants to leave his mark there.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, teasing, as he drags his hands over your hips, his thumbs tracing lazy circles. “You want me to fill you up, make sure you feel me long after, huh?”

You swallow, pulse hammering against your ribs. There’s no hesitation when you nod, your breath hitching as his lips graze yours- featherlight, just enough to tease.

Chris hums, his hands sliding lower, squeezing your ass before lifting you onto the counter with ease. His body slots between your legs, firm and unyielding. He keeps you there, locked in place, his forehead resting against yours.

“Say it again,” he demands, his voice rough with want.

Your fingers tangle in his hoodie, pulling him impossibly closer, your legs tightening around his waist.

“I want it, Chris,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his. “I want you to cum inside me.”

A sharp inhale from him, and then his mouth crashes onto yours, all heat and hunger. His fingers slide under your sweatshirt again, this time with purpose, exploring, claiming.

“Shit, baby,” he groans against your lips, his hands pushing higher, tugging at your clothes.

He doesn’t waste another second. His hands slip beneath your thighs, gripping firmly as he lifts you off the counter with effortless strength. Your arms loop around his neck instinctively, your breath coming in short, heated bursts as he carries you through the dimly lit apartment.

The air between you is thick, charged, every step he takes toward the bedroom making your anticipation coil tighter. His lips find your jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat as he nudges the bedroom door open with his foot.

By the time he lays you down on the bed, your body is already burning for him. Chris hovers over you, his hands planted on either side of your head, his darkened blue eyes devouring every inch of you.

“Been wanting to do this all night,” he murmurs, fingers dipping under the hem of your sweatshirt again, this time pushing it up with agonizing slowness. “Take my time with you.”

Your stomach tightens as he peels the fabric over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His gaze drinks you in, lingering on your bare skin, the way your chest rises and falls beneath him.

“Ma,” he breathes, his hands already roaming again, thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You reach for his hoodie, fingers curling around the hem as you tug. “Then take this off,” you whisper, your voice breathless, needy.

Chris smirks but obliges, pulling it over his head and letting it drop to the floor. His toned chest and arms are bare now, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting shadows over the ridges of his muscles.

Your hands roam over his skin, tracing along his collarbones and his happy trail. He watches you with dark, hooded eyes, his breathing heavy as he slides his hands down your body, toying with the waistband of your shorts.

“These too,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire, as he hooks his fingers into them, dragging them down your legs inch by inch. The sensation sends a shiver through you, every inch of your exposed skin burning under his touch.

Once your shorts are gone, Chris kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands smoothing over your thighs as he leans down, pressing slow, lingering kisses to your soft and wet cunt. His lips trail higher towards your clit, teasing, making your breath hitch.

Then, just when you think you might combust, he pulls back, standing to his full height.

Your eyes lock onto his as he unbuttons his jeans, dragging the zipper down slowly. He doesn’t look away- not as he pushes them past his hips, not as they fall to the floor, leaving him in just his boxers, the evidence of his desire straining against the fabric.

“Your turn,” you whisper, eyes flicking to the last piece of clothing between you.

Chris smirks, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pushing them down.

Chris lets his boxers drop to the floor, kicking them aside before crawling back over you, his body warm and solid against yours. His hands find your thighs, spreading them wider as he settles between them, his weight pressing into you in a way that makes your breath hitch.

“Yeahhhh,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, down the column of your throat. “You’re so fucking perfect. Every single inch of you.” His hands roam your body like he’s memorizing you all over again, tracing over your curves, his thumbs brushing against your hip bones.

You shudder under his touch, gripping onto his shoulders, needing something to anchor you. Chris smirks against your skin, his lips pressing sloppy kisses over your collarbone, then lower, taking his time.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he whispers, his breath hot against your peaked nipples. “Never get tired of touching you, tasting you… fucking filling you up.”

Your breath stutters, heat pooling low in your stomach at his words. His hands slide down, gripping your hips firmly, fingers pressing possessively into your skin.

“You love that, don’t you?” he murmurs, tilting his head to watch your reaction. “Love knowing I wanna fill you up every time. Keep you like this-” he grinds his hips against you, slow and deliberate, making you gasp. “So full of me.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and Chris groans, rolling his hips again, teasing you, making your body arch into his.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough, edged with need. “Tell me you want it, baby.”

Your head tilts back against the pillows, a whimper slipping from your lips. “I want it, Chris,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Want you to fill me up.”

Chris growls low in his throat, his hands gripping your thighs, his lips ghosting over yours. “Fuck, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs. “You know that? The way you say it… the way you look at me like that. I swear, I could spend every fucking day buried inside you and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, your body tightening in anticipation. His fingers trail down, teasing, testing your patience.

“You ready for me, baby?” he asks, voice thick, teasing as his eyes flick up to meet yours. “You want it that bad?”

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands fisting in the sheets. “I need you, Chris.”

Chris groans, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to line himself up, swiping his cock a few times through your built up arousal. His gaze locks onto yours, intense, unwavering.

“Then take it,” he murmurs. “Take all of me.”

Chris doesn’t hold back. He pushes in slowly at first, savoring the way your body reacts to him, how you gasp and clutch at his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. His jaw clenches as he watches you, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with need.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his forehead against yours. “You feel so good, baby. Always so fucking perfect for me.”

Your breath stutters, your nails dragging down his back as he sinks deeper, filling you inch by inch. The stretch is delicious, a slow burn that makes your head spin, and Chris eats up every little sound you make, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. He leans back just enough to watch your expression, his hands roaming over your tits and cupping them, mapping every inch of you. “You take me so fucking well. Every time.”

Your head tilts back, a moan slipping from your lips as he rolls his hips, setting a slow, deep rhythm. Chris groans at the feeling, his fingers pressing into your skin like he never wants to let go.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, kissing along your jaw, down to your throat. “Let me in- let me fill you up just the way you need.”

His pace quickens just a little, his control hanging by a thread as he watches you come undone beneath him. Every thrust pushes him deeper, making you gasp, your body arching into his.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. “So fucking tight, so warm- like you were made for me.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, your lips parting in a desperate gasp as he hits the perfect spot inside you. Chris feels it, sees the way your body responds, and it makes something primal snap inside him.

“That’s the spot, huh?” he murmurs, a smirk playing at his lips even as his own breath is ragged. “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna let me fill you up like you need?”

“Chris,” you whimper, your body tightening around him, heat coiling low in your stomach.

“Say it,” he growls, his thrusts getting rougher, more desperate. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you need me to cum inside you.”

Your back arches, pleasure crashing over you in waves as your orgasm hits and you squeeze him impossibly tight. “I need it- I need you to fill me up, Chris. So bad.”

He groans, his grip on you tightening as he thrusts harder, deeper, chasing his release. “F- fuck, baby, I’m gonna- ” His breath shudders, his movements getting sloppier as he buries himself as deep as he can, his body tensing.

A guttural moan tears from his lips as he spills inside you, holding you tight, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. His breathing is heavy, his body trembling slightly from the intensity of it, and he presses lazy kisses against your skin as he comes down.

“Shit,” he breathes, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you flush against him. “I swear, I’ll never get tired of this. Never get tired of you.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, running your fingers through his hair, still coming down from your own high.

Chris doesn’t move for a moment, still catching his breath, his body heavy and warm against yours. But then, as if something clicks in his mind, he shifts, gripping your hips with both hands.

Without warning, he pushes your hips up, angling them just enough to keep every drop of his cum inside you. You whimper at the sudden movement, your body still sensitive, your legs trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Chris- fuck.” you murmur, a dazed little laugh slipping from your lips, “what are you doing?”

His fingers press into your skin, his grip firm, possessive. His darkened blue eyes flick down to where you’re still connected, then back up to your face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Making sure it stays,” he murmurs, voice rough, teasing but laced with something deeper, something almost primal.

Your breath catches. “I thought you didn’t want me to get pregnant.”

Chris doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans down, pressing kisses along your jaw, down the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips lingering, his hands still keeping your hips in place.

“I never said that,” he finally murmurs, his voice husky, “maybe I like the idea more than I let on.”

Your heart stutters. Heat blooms in your chest, pooling low in your stomach again despite how spent you already are. Chris tilts his head, watching your reaction closely, his smirk deepening as he sees the way his words affect you.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” he teases, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “You’re the one who begged me to cum inside you.”

Your breath hitches. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you actually wanted-”

Chris cuts you off with a slow roll of his hips, just enough to remind you he’s still inside you, still keeping everything right where he wants it. You gasp, your fingers gripping his arms.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he murmurs. “You know how fucking good it feels. How right it feels.” His lips graze your ear. “Tell me you don’t love it.”

You swallow hard, your pulse hammering. “I do,” you whisper.

Chris smirks against your skin, his hands tightening on your hips. “That’s my girl,” he breathes. “And who knows… maybe one day, I won’t just be filling you up for fun. Maybe one of these days I’ll fuck a baby into you.”

Your stomach flips, your whole body flushing at his words. Chris just chuckles, his expression dark and full of satisfaction as he kisses you again- slow, deep, claiming.

“But for now,” he murmurs, letting his weight settle over you again, his hands still holding you in place, “we’ll just make sure it sticks.”

Chris finally releases his hold on your hips, letting you relax into the mattress, though he doesn’t pull away just yet. He presses a few lingering kisses against your shoulder, his hands smoothing over your sides as he breathes you in.

“You good?” he murmurs, his voice warm and tender now, the teasing edge from before softened.

You nod, still catching your breath, your body pleasantly sore in the best way. “Yeah… just feel like I can’t move.”

Chris chuckles, rolling off of you but staying close. “Guess I did my job right, then.” He smirks, but before you can throw a pillow at him, he leans in, brushing his lips over your forehead. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up.”

He helps you up, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as you both make your way to the bathroom. He’s gentle as he runs a warm washcloth over your skin, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, your shoulders, wherever he can reach. It’s such a contrast from the heat of earlier, but it makes your heart swell all the same.

Once you’re both cleaned up, you slip on one of Chris’s hoodies- something oversized and soft- and climb into bed. Chris follows, pulling you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as he buries his face in your hair.

“Love you,” he mumbles sleepily, his lips brushing against your temple.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Love you too, Chris.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

You groan, dropping your forehead against the kitchen counter as another wave of nausea rolls through you. “Ugh, I feel awful.”

Chris looks up from where he’s leaning against the fridge, brows furrowing with concern. “Still feeling sick, baby?”

You nod, rubbing your stomach with a frown. “Yeah… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I keep feeling nauseous at the most random times. And I swear, I smelled coffee earlier, and it made me want to throw up.”

Chris winces, stepping closer and rubbing a hand up and down your back soothingly. “I’m so sorry, baby. Can I do anything?”

You shake your head, sighing. “I don’t even know what would help. It’s just been happening out of nowhere.”

Chris presses a kiss to the side of your head, his touch warm and comforting. “Maybe you just ate something bad? Or you’re stressed?”

“Maybe,” you mumble, but you’re not entirely convinced. “Are you sure the chicken last night was fully cooked?”

“I check it twice. It was.” Chris gives you a sympathetic look. “Tell you what- I’ll make you some tea, and then we can just chill on the couch, yeah? I’ll rub your back, we can watch whatever dumb reality show you wanna put on.”

That makes you smile a little, and you nod. “Okay. That sounds nice. Thank you baby.”

Chris grins, pressing another kiss to your forehead before heading to the kettle. “Anything for my girl.”

ONE WEEK LATER

You groan as you lean over the bathroom sink, splashing cold water on your face in a desperate attempt to shake off the lingering nausea. It’s been happening every morning now- like clockwork. And as much as you’d been hoping it was just a stomach bug or something that would pass, it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Baby?” Chris’s voice is groggy, laced with sleep as he steps into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. “You okay?”

You let out a slow breath, gripping the edge of the counter. “Same as yesterday. And the day before that.”

Chris frowns, stepping closer, his hands settling on your waist as he looks you over. His touch is warm and grounding, but when his thumbs brush against your sides, you wince subconsciously.

Chris notices immediately, his brows drawing together. “Hey… why’d you flinch?”

You shake your head, still trying to wake up fully. “I didn’t-” But then his hands slide up a little higher, skimming under your hoodie, and the moment his thumbs brush against the curve of your breasts, you jolt.

Chris’s eyes widen. “Whoa. Okay. That was a reaction.”

You frown, stepping back slightly, your arms crossing over your chest. “They’ve just been… weirdly sensitive lately.”

Chris tilts his head, his gaze flicking down before his lips curl into the smallest smirk. “Not to mention…” His hands return to your sides, his touch slow, almost hesitant. “Baby, I swear to God, they look bigger. Like huge. It makes me so horny.”

You scoff. “Chris!”

“I’m serious!” He gives you a pointed look, stepping back just enough to take you in. “They’re… I don’t know, plumper? And you’ve been nauseous for over a week. You’re throwing up every morning. You don’t think…?”

You blink at him, brows furrowing. “Think what?”

Chris’s expression shifts- something between excitement and pure realization flickering across his face. He licks his lips, searching your eyes, almost as if he’s waiting for you to catch up.

“Baby,” he says slowly, carefully, “you don’t think you could be… pregnant?”

The words hang between you, heavy and thick in the quiet morning air. Your stomach twists- but not from nausea this time.

Your lips part slightly, a small laugh slipping out- almost disbelieving. “Chris, there’s no way…” But then, as you say it, the last few weeks flash through your mind. The exhaustion. The cravings. The nausea. The sensitivity. The way you haven’t used a condom with him in months and he hasn’t been pulling out.

Chris watches you closely, his smirk fading into something softer, more serious. His hands settle on your hips again, thumbs rubbing slow circles. “Baby,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, “when’s the last time you had your period?”

Your stomach drops. Your mind races as you try to remember, but the more you think about it, the more your chest tightens. You should’ve had it by now. You always keep track. But with everything going on, you hadn’t even noticed.

Chris sees the realization hit you. His hands tighten just slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. “Shit,” you whisper.

Chris lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah. Shit.”

You look up at him, heart pounding, eyes wide. “Chris… what if I am?”

He’s silent for a moment. Just looking at you. And then, slowly, his lips curl into a grin.

“Guess we should find out.”

Chris doesn’t waste a second. The moment the realization fully settles between you, he’s already moving. He grabs his phone and wallet off the nightstand, shoving his feet into the closest pair of sneakers.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your forehead before darting toward the front door.

You blink, still in shock. “Wait- Chris, where are you-”

But he’s already gone.

You stand there for a moment, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. This has to be a joke, right? There’s no way this is actually happening. But as you place a hand over your stomach, the reality starts creeping in.

A few minutes later, you hear the front door swing open again, followed by the unmistakable crinkle of plastic bags.

“Alright, baby, let’s do this!” Chris’s voice is practically beaming as he jogs back into the bedroom, his arms full of pregnancy tests. You stare in disbelief as he drops multiple boxes onto the bed, some falling onto the floor in the process.

“Chris,” you say slowly, eyes widening. “What the fuck is this?”

“Options,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I got every brand they had. Digital ones, line ones, ones that apparently have smiley faces-” He pauses, flipping a box over before tossing it onto the pile. “I didn’t know there were this many kinds, honestly, but we’re covering all bases.”

You shake your head, staring at the sheer amount of tests in front of you. “Ten tests, Chris?”

“At least ten,” he corrects, grinning.

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “Why are you so happy about this?”

Chris hesitates for half a second before letting out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Honestly? I don’t know. I just… am.”

You search his face, expecting to see panic or nerves, but all you find is pure excitement- like he wants this. Like the idea of you possibly carrying his baby is something he’s already embracing.

Your stomach twists, but not in a bad way. It’s terrifying and overwhelming, but with the way he’s looking at you, it also feels… oddly okay.

Chris claps his hands together, bringing you back to reality. “Alright, let’s go. Go pee on some sticks.”

You snort despite yourself. “Some?”

“All of them,” he corrects, already scooping up the tests into his arms. “We need solid confirmation, baby. I need a goddamn unanimous decision from these things.”

Shaking your head, you exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair before turning toward the bathroom. “This is insane.”

Chris follows right behind you, grinning. “This is science.”

You roll your eyes, but as you close the bathroom door behind you, Chris leans against the sink, watching you with nothing but warmth in his gaze.

“Whatever happens,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, “we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Your chest tightens, and you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Wait! Let me see what they say first. Don’t pee on anything!” Chris rips open one of the boxes with the same energy he probably had during his high school finals. He pulls out the instructions, unfolds them with an exaggerated flourish, and clears his throat.

“Alright,” he announces, squinting at the paper. “Step one: Remove the test from the wrapper.”

You snatch a test from one of the open boxes and rip it open with ease. “Done.”

Chris nods approvingly, scanning the next step. “Step two: Hold the absorbent tip in your urine stream for five seconds. Or dip it in a cup of urine for twenty seconds.”

You give him a flat look. “Absorbent tip?”

“Hey, I’m just reading what it says,” Chris says, holding up his hands in defense. He glances down again, then smirks. “Oh- this part’s important: Make sure you don’t pee on the result window. We need a clear reading, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks for the groundbreaking information, Chris.”

“Just looking out for accuracy.”

You shake your head, but your heart is thudding in your chest. This is actually happening.

Chris notices your hesitation and softens slightly, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Just… nervous.”

Chris nods, setting the instructions down on the counter before placing his hands on your hips. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “No matter what happens, we’re in this together. Got it?”

You nod, exhaling against his chest. “Got it.”

He smiles, giving you a small squeeze before stepping back. “Alright, go do your thing. I’ll be right here, being incredibly supportive and not at all annoying.”

You snort. “Mhm.”

Chris gasps dramatically. “Wow. So much doubt for the man who just spent a ridiculous amount of money on pregnancy tests for you.”

Shaking your head, you grab the cup from the counter- because there’s no way you’re risking peeing on your own hand in the middle of a life-altering moment- and step toward the toilet. “Okay, turnaround now.”

Chris throws his hands up. “I literally fucked this baby into you?!”

“We don’t know if there’s a baby yet!” You roll your eyes but do what needs to be done, filling the cup and carefully dipping the first test. Then another. And another. You cycle through each one, following the ridiculous variety of instructions. Five seconds for one. Twenty seconds for another. One where you had to cap it immediately and lay it on a flat surface.

Chris stands by the counter, eyes wide as he watches you line up ten tests in a perfect row.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “That’s a lot of science happening at once.”

You let out a breath, setting the last test down. “Now what?”

Chris grabs one of the boxes, scanning the fine print. “Now we wait.”

You swallow hard, wiping your hands on a towel before gripping the edge of the sink. “How long?”

Chris squints at the instructions. “Three minutes.”

Three minutes.

Three minutes to find out if your whole world is about to change.

Chris must sense your nerves because he steps up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his lips brushing your jaw. “I can set a timer. Or we can just stare at them aggressively until something happens.”

You let out a breathy laugh, leaning back against him. “Okay… let’s do it.”

Chris’s phone is already in his hand before you even say anything. He holds it up, pressing record with a grin.

“For our future kid,” he says, his voice full of barely contained excitement.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You don’t even know if it’s positive yet.”

Chris smirks, shaking his head. “I have a feeling, baby.”

Your stomach twists as you reach for the first test. Your fingers tremble slightly, and you can feel Chris’s anticipation radiating off of him. With a deep breath, you flip it over.

Two lines.

Positive.

Your heart stops.

Chris lets out a sharp inhale, but before either of you can fully process it, you reach for the second test.

Positive.

The third.

Positive.

Every. Single. One.

Chris stares at them for half a second before a wide grin spreads across his face. “Holy shit.” His phone lowers slightly as he turns to look at you, his eyes shining. “Baby- holy shit!”

Before you can react, he grabs you, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You gasp, gripping his shoulders as a laugh bubbles out of you, your nerves momentarily forgotten.

“Chris!” You giggle, clinging to him as he twirls you.

“I knew it,” he exclaims, setting you down just enough to crash his lips against yours. The kiss is heated, desperate, but full of so much love that your chest tightens.

Then, before you even realize it, tears start slipping down your cheeks. You pull back slightly, your hand flying to your stomach as a sob escapes you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Our baby is in my stomach.”

Chris freezes, his hands still gripping your waist. He stares at you like he’s just now fully comprehending it, like the reality of it all is truly sinking in. His lips part slightly, his breath hitching.

“Our baby,” he murmurs, and the way he says it- so full of awe, of love- makes your heart ache.

But then, almost instantly, his entire demeanor shifts. His grip tightens, his eyes darting around the room like his brain is moving a mile a minute.

“Shit. I need to tell my mom. And my dad. And my brothers.” He steps back, running a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. “What about your family? Should we call them first? And the apartment- fuck, we need to start looking at places with an extra room. Or at least be ready for when she grows up- ”

You blink. “She?”

Chris stops, looking at you dead serious. “I don’t know, baby, I just know. I have this gut feeling that my new babygirl is growing inside you right now.”

Your heart clenches at the sheer certainty in his voice.

But then he’s spiraling again. “Oh God, we don’t have anything for a baby. I need to research cribs- what’s the safest crib? And strollers- shit, what’s a good stroller brand? I don’t know anything about strollers! And- fuck, baby, we’re twenty-one. I haven’t even married you yet!”

He turns to you, panic written all over his face now, and for the first time ever, you’re the calm one.

You step forward, reaching for his hands, squeezing them tightly. “Chris, baby, breathe.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly, but he listens, taking a deep inhale as his eyes lock onto yours.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, pressing his hands against your stomach. “The way you reacted tells me all I need to know. You’re gonna be an amazing father.”

Chris swallows hard, his panic giving way to something softer, more vulnerable. His fingers flex against your stomach, like he’s already trying to connect with the tiny life growing inside you.

“You think so?” he asks, voice quieter now.

You smile, cupping his face. “I know so.”

Chris exhales shakily, closing his eyes for a moment before leaning forward, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you too.”

And in that moment, standing there in the tiny bathroom with ten positive pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, everything feels exactly as it should be.

MASTERLIST

tags: @bernardsbendystraws @mattsobvimyfav @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz

[jo-com]

🪐⋆｡°✩ ➛ Latter Option

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Summary: Finding out that you were never his first choice. Genre: Angst and a little bit of SMAU Note: Finally back to writing. Like always there are grammatical errors and this is not proofread, Hope you enjoy!! Fc: Madison Beer

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ˚.⛰️⋆☁️ ─ ───────

F1.UPDS

Liked by 12,098 others

F1.UPDS BREAKING NEWS! 🚨 F1 Star Charles Leclerc Caught Proposing? 💍

Rumors are swirling as Ferrari’s golden boy, Charles Leclerc, was reportedly seen down on one knee, proposing to his girlfriend, Y/N L/N! 🔥 Fans went wild after spotting a dazzling ring on her finger. 💎 Could wedding bells be ringing soon? Stay tuned for more exclusive details! 🏎️💨

Tagged: @Charles_Leclerc, @Yn.nn_

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User WHAAATTT OMGG

User MY PARENTSS🥹🥹

User i will cry if this isn’t real

Yn.nn_ 👀👀👀

User NO FUVKIN WAYYY

User She knows what she’s doing

User CRYING IN LONELINESS

User FINALLYYY

User wait what about valorie?

User who?

User the girl before y/n

User I thought they were just friends🤷🏻‍♀️

...

Yn.nn_

Liked by Charles_Leclerc, Lilyhme, and 1,698,409 others

Yn.nn_ 4lifers🤞🏻

Tagged: @Charles_Leclerc

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Charles_Leclerc Forever and ever💞

Yn.nn_ 🤭

Scuderiaferrari ❤️❤️❤️

User I CANT BELIEVE ITS FINALLY HAPPENING

User WOWOWWOWOW

Lilyhme Dibs on made of honor!

Sistersusername excuse me?

Lilyhme i called dibs…

Carlossainz55 congrats amigos🥳🎉

…

The smile on your face tugged even wider as you read along all the supportive and happy banters that were left by many adoring people. It was never your guys' intention to let people know of the recent engagement but since some paparazzi leaked it, might as well announce it at your own volition.

There were even some people were calling out the fact that the wedding was happening “too soon” or them saying “you guys are too early into the relationship.” Little do the others know, you and Charles share a history that stretches back further than they could ever imagine. Since your senior days, you have been inseparable—his best friend, his confidante. And through the years, as laughter turned to late-night talks and fleeting glances became something deeper, your heart has belonged to him. You've been madly in love with Charles ever since, carrying that secret like a quiet flame, burning only for him.

As you swiped further down millions of post, One particular comment caught your eye-- as soon as you read the following, you felt a familiar pang run across the veins of your chest.

You didn't expect to see her name about a post between you and charles, but seeing it appear out of the blue adds an uneasy feeling of discomfort cloud your mind.

Maybe it's nothing? They mentioned something about being friends so that has to be it, Just friends right?

You thought to yourself-- giving close ended assurance just to keep your mind at ease.

...

Days passed by and everything seemed to be going so well lately. Your once crazed overthinking quickly withered when Charles took you out on a date, just because he missed you-- though he was with you the day before yesterday.

It was a gesture that made your heart filled with endless warmth and put your mind at rest.

But as the saying goes, 'Nothing good lasts forever' and no one is an exception.

...

You ➛ Lily

…

A quiver left pass your lips as you red along the text between you and your friend. Each word hung to your mind like a parasite.

If what she's saying is true then.. Have you been the second option all along? But who would be this cruel to play your feelings just like that. You knew Charles had a thing for Valorei, but he comforted you countless times that it was nothing.

You threw your phone to the side as you frantically wiped the tears that unknowingly slide down your cheeks. Was this some kind of sick joke?

A lot of unanswered questions waved your thoughts-- and only one person could answer.

...

That's all for now, mainly because this draft have been here for months now and i kinda forgot how it goes but i assure y'all that i will be uploading more fr!!

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

They unknowingly bring up an insecurity Seungmin|Pt1

Pt2 Pt3

Your heart was strung in your throat. Seungmin was always one to tease; and for the most part he was good about shying away from topics you were sensitive about so no problems had ever arisen. But as you read over his texts over and over again you felt your heart pinch in a way that was all to similar to what you had felt in your previous relationship.

"You talk too much, you know that?" Your ex had told you that numerous times, and eventually it led to a break up. And your constant yapping became something that made you insecure.

But when you first met Seungmin you felt like you were perfect the way you were. Chan had said you would balance Seungmin out quite well. And up until now you felt as if that were the case.

Now you wondered if maybe you did become to much.

Maybe the constant chatter had become annoying to the quiet boy you loved dearly.

And while you had been in love numerous times before, it hurt more to even think of losing Seungmin than all your previous heart breaks combined. And that was a lot considering you had always been the one to have your heart broken.

You couldn't tear yourself away from your phone screen - rereading those texts and overanalyizing the tone.

Maybe it was in a light hearted way? Or maybe it was the complete opposite and it was fully aggression?

You sat there trying to pick apart every single meaning, connotation, and tone the words he sent could have when your phone dimed again.

"I'm guessing your busy shopping since my phone has been quite for more than fifteen minutes. Haha, I think that's a first!"

You did everything in your power to try and bite back the knot in your throat from coming up and causing tears. So much so your eyes started to burn and you ended up shedding a few quietly.

The rest of the day you busied yourself with miniscule little tasks like dusting the fans and sweeping the welcome mat that you intended to take along with you when you moved in with Seungmin.

You tried to take your mind off of the texts. You figured Seungmin didn’t mean it in anyway malicious sort of way. In fact you knew he meant it as a lighthearted joke. In the time you had spent with him you had easily learned just how kind and loving of a person he was, and how much he cared for you.

You just couldn’t shake the hurt from those words - and more importantly the fear you had deep down that there was some truth to the words he had sent.

By the time Seungmin arrived at your apartment it was early evening. Every Wednesday you guys would cook together ever since you witnessed him and Felix blowing food up by accident on a live. Seungmin followed the normal routine of slipping off his shoes and into his house slippers and immediately changing into a cheap shirt he had bought when you first had started your endeavors since he was smart enough to realize he was a messy cook.

“Hey baby.” He said as he greeted you with a quick hug from behind and a chaste kiss to the cheek before he went to wash his hands.

You have a small noise of acknowledgement as Seungmin dried his hands off on a plaid towel and turned to you with happy anticipation.

“What are we cooking today?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs.” You replied as you started to grab the necessary ingredients. Seungmin followed you around like a happy puppy and helped you a carry everything to the counter you reserved for preparation of ingredients.

“So how do we start?” Seungmin asked. By now he had noticed your face was a little droopy and your responses were short and if there was any conversation it was only in answer to his initiation.

“With the ground beef.” You said as you pulled out a big bowl to put the meat and seasonings in. Seungmin watched you from his peripheral as you poured in some panco bread crumbs and a bunch of other various aromatic seasonings while he opened up the meat packaging.

As he kneeled everything with his hands he tried asking you about your day.

“So did you end up ordering the mugs baby?”

“No, I didn’t.” Silence.

“Oh…maybe after dinner we can look on Etsy together? Or maybe find a website to customize them? It might seem like a lot but I think the guys would really appreciate your sentiment.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Silence.

Seungmin started to roll out oddly and unevenly shaped meatballs and continued to try and ask you questions as you guys worked, but your answers we short. Not rude. But literally short.

Not thouroghly explained like usual.

Even at dinner you were quiet and barely even touched your food.

“Do you not feel good baby?” Seungmin asked you as you played with a piece of garlic bread.

“I feel okay…maybe a little tired.” You said popping the piece into your mouth as if to show you were feeling fine.

Seungmin sighed and put his fork down.

“Did my text hurt your feelings?” He had been worrying about it all day when he had seen you had left him on read. It was an odd thing but nevertheless endearing when you would finish a conversation over text and send a meme to him just to acknowledge the end of the conversation, and to make sure he “didn’t find it hurtful” that you had left him on read. Even if he constantly assured you it was in no way shape or form a problem.

You hadn’t sent him a meme. And the more he thought about it he realized that his humor might not have translated through text.

“Im sorry if I hurt your feelings. It was a joke, Y/N. I would never purposefully want to hurt you. I love when you share about your day. I was a bit tied up so while you texting me might have been inconvienent at the moment doesnt mean I don’t appreciate you wanting me to know everything about what you are doing. I love that you want me to be a part of your life , even the tiny thing.”

“It’s okay babe.” You replied putting a smile on your face. “I know you didn’t mean it to hurt me. I’m just tired that’s all.” You let out a breath as you stood up and collected Seungmin’s plate. “Maybe we can just watch a movie instead of shopping? I just don’t feel like thinking very much right now in any capacity…” You let out quietly.

“Of course.” Seungmin responded, trailing you into the kitchen as you set the plates in the sink. “I love you.” He said quietly, his voice lilting up slightly. Were you actually okay?

“I love you too Minmin.” You place a a small kiss next to his eye and head towards the living room.

During the movie Seungmin kept stealing glances at you as you leaned on him but not into him. As you laughed but the curve of your mouth didn’t exactly reach your eyes. And how those same eyes were focused on the screen but your mind was obviously some place else.

Although you had said you were fine your silence gave him the answer you actually wanted to give. That Seungmin had struck a nerve more sensitive than he had known.

[codnasties]

bull rider!ghost 👻

having an uni bestie that's from a small rural town as someone who was born and raised in a city has it's perks, like getting to experience things you had never experienced before. and i'm talking about going to a rodeo.

crowd roaring as a new rider sat on an angry bull and got tossed into the air as the animal bucked fiercely. the first few wild dudes that you had seen were interesting. you know, the attraction of something new that you had never really seen before. but after a handful of them it started getting a bit boring, but your friend was cheering on so loudly and seemingly enjoying that so much it would probably be rude to tell them that you weren't having so much fun.

trying to find some kind of entertainment, you told your friend you were going to go and get a drink, because at this moment a beer looked like it would bring you some semblance of entertainment.

but you were wrong, because as you make your way back to the rodeo grounds, your eye caught a rider that was different. he had a commanding and charming aura to him, something that impelled you to look at him. well, maybe it was more that just the way he carried himself.

it was the way those jeans seemed to hug those thick thighs of his, how, with the help of the chaps he was wearing, they left little to imagination, giving you a perfect view of his ass. and oh what an ass! and his shirt... the way his strong and built muscle seemed to flex and ripple with each movement that he made.

when you finally made it back to where your friend was sitting - which took you longer than the way to the bar because of adoring such a man -, this mysterious dude was now on the chute, lowering himself onto one hell of an angry bull.

while the rest of the riders had caught your eye, there was nothing but anticipation inside of you to see him try to tame that ton and a half bull. and he did not disappoint, the beast beneath him bucking trying to get him of.

it wasn't just the way he has holding on or how long those eight seconds seemed to last when it was him on the arena. it was the way his hips swayed trying to follow the bulls movements, the way the bicep of the arm he was using to hold on became impossibly bigger with the tension, the veins that were proptinding on the hand he had up in the air, the glimpse of tattoos on his forearm as the sleeve of his shirt got pulled by his muscles.

before you ever realised, the buzzer had sounded, indicating that the time necessary was over and that he could now get off the bull. and when he did, you became even more intrigued by him and how fucking tall he looked and how he, amazingly, had managed to keep the hat he was wearing on his head the whole time.

seeing how entranced you were by this one specific rider, your friend immediately gave you that information that you were unknowingly desperate to know. "his name is simon riley, but they call him ghost"

"ghost?", you asked them back.

"yup, because of the way he rides, breaks records and then fucking vanishes. the public doesn't really know much about him or his personal life. and it's also a know fact that is hard to even get to meet him and talk to him" they explained. "oh, an also he ghost every single person that he fucks'

"hmm interesting", you hummed, starting to get into your head that as much as this 'ghost' seemed attractive and got you horny just from looking at him, he was quite unreachable and maybe a bit of an asshole.

"yeah, the man's a beast at what he does", they exclaimed, cutting your thought process.

"i can see, you don't need me to tell me twice", you uttered back.

"and he's actually a cousin of mine! let me introduce you to him'" they gave you further explanation.

you couldn't help the immediate 'oh' that left you. because you actually had a chance to talk to this man an maybe, maybe try to cham your way into those tight jeans of his. because an asshole has his charm, you know?

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

hope y'all enjoyed that, i just pulled this out of my pussy.

no smut just pure hornyness. anyways, save a horse ride a cowboy or sum

[keferon]

Did I spend two hours writing this? Ha! No, why do you ask. *lying through my teeth* anyway come here Mecha au Texaid enjoyers. come get yall juice.

———

Vortex isn’t sure when it started. Doesn’t even dare to try to pinpoint the when, why, where and how of it. Just that it exists. Some forgotten feeling stored in the deep recesses of his somewhat intact consciousness that has resurfaced. It burns him, tears down at the steel walls he had formed around himself. Makes him feel like he’s being broken down then built up again. 

It’s a wonderful, terrifying feeling that eats away at him the more ‘he’s’ here. The more that secretly unhinged medic-turned-pilot crawls into his cockpit, every time getting more comfortable with connecting with him literally and figuratively. With Aid slowly coming to not outright radiate hatred with every encounter. Sharing stuff like music, who they couldn’t stand, and answers to the most stupid questions like ‘wha’s your favorite color?’. Vortex had cackled at Aid for that one.

At first he rejects the feeling. Stops it at full force, imagining it going through a trash compactor or being incinerated to ash. He makes himself believe it’s a game. Empty threats, flirtatious behavior and cutting banter puts him at the top 5 of First Aid’s Most Annoying Motherfuckers to Ever Exist list. A tidbit of information he is proud as fuck of.

But that denial came to a stop the moment Shockwave had stepped into his hangar while Aid had been in his cockpit, his visor the only shield to keep that creepo from getting near him. Vortex may have been a homicidal maniac, but there had always been something about Shockwave’s presence that made him feel suffocated even back when he was alive. It took some silent processing to realize—and goddammit he hates himself for it—how afraid he had been. Not so much for himself but for the little flesh bag hidden away inside him. 

It had rocked him, that’s for damn sure. When Aid had asked what made him different from all the other pilots Vortex had disregarded and killed, he answered truthfully at the time. ‘You treat me like a threat, like I’m the one in control of this power instead of you.’ And while that still held some merit, it changed kind of. ‘Threat’ turned into person. And the power that he holds became more and more of Aid’s. How easily Vortex was swayed into giving into Aid’s requests. 

The first one being to dissect that Quintesson. He had reveled in the way it squirmed and screeched, trying fruitlessly to get out of their grip. Vortex considered to simply rip it in half for fun, until he felt something from the connection in the drift. A sort of fascination and curiosity quietly humming through the link. Took him longer than he’d like to admit to realize it wasn’t coming from him but Aid. A drive to know how this creature worked, how to best take it apart to examine its insides. And before he knew what he was doing, Vortex did, cutting it as neatly down the middle as he could manage. He remembers the shudder of excitement from the link, at how different that alien was, how this information could benefit battles in the future. The bombardment of information and feelings had shocked him, though he of course didn’t show it, but it also sent a thrill of wonder through him. ‘This freak’ he had chuckled to himself, feeling as Aid leaned out from his cockpit to examine the creature.

After that he realized how dangerous this was. The power Aid unknowingly held over him, and all he needed were his words. But he found that he didn’t care all that much. Especially not when Aid would sometimes fall asleep in his cockpit after a grueling mission, and Vortex would snap his visor at anyone who tried to get him out. Moments like that made him wish he still had a human body. To flick the nerd’s nose, to ruffle his hair, to playfully shove him. Thoughts like those made his non-existent heart throb, sickening himself with those sappy sentiments. He will never mention this to Aid, you’d have to rip it out of his cold, dead conscience.

Standing in the hangar, he’s not sure when he had decided this promise to himself. Doesn’t even try to pinpoint when. But he knows that if this little ant ever died, he wouldn’t stop destroying everything in his path until he either killed the one who had done it, very slowly at that, or deactivated with vengeance still roaring through his circuits. 

OH I LOVE THIS SO FUCKING MUCH KFKFNFKDNHDKRKTNRJRMT

Previous next

[wikiangela]

you know when you know (I think I do)

rating: G words: 1.4k

[read on Ao3]

___

“So, you and Buck.” Eddie finally gets on the topic he was clearly inching towards the whole evening. Tommy’s lips involuntarily turn up into a smile.

“Yeah. What about us?” He asks, still turned towards the TV, then takes a sip of his beer.

“You guys are, uh, together. Dating.” Eddie fiddles with the label on his beer bottle, sounding a little hesitant and awkward.

“Have been for weeks now.” Tommy nods, smile widening at the mere thought of Evan. He leans his head back against the back of the couch, then turns more towards Eddie. “Any particular reason you’re bringing it up now?”

“Uh, not really. I mean, I’m so happy for you guys, and, uh, it’s none of my business, I just-” He takes a deep breath. Tommy waits, curious about what his friend might have to say. “Listen, Tommy, I don’t wanna be one of these friends who’s all ‘if you hurt him, I’ll kill you’, that’s not me.” Eddie starts, cringing at the words. “Besides, he’s a grown man who’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself.”

“True.” Tommy nods. He can already see where Eddie’s going with it. Tommy finds it sweet how much people in Evan’s life love him and care for him, and are protective of him, but not to a weird or unhealthy degree. He can appreciate that.

“But he’s my best friend.” Eddie continues. “And I just worry.”

“Okay?” Tommy prompts when Eddie falls silent, a frown on his face, like he’s considering his next words.

“He’s been through a lot. In general, but also relationship-wise. I’ve seen only part of it, but I’ve heard it all. And I just- I don’t want him to get hurt again.” 

“I’m not planning to hurt him, Eddie.” Tommy says softly. It’s obvious, and he knows what Eddie meant, but he wants to voice it anyway. He would never, ever, in a million years, do anything that could even remotely hurt his Evan. And if he did so unknowingly, he doesn’t think he’d forgive himself. Evan is such a ray of sunshine, he’s so good and sweet, and genuine, and Tommy would do anything just to keep that radiant smile on his face. 

“I know that.” Eddie shakes his head briefly. “People rarely do. It’s just that, Buck always gives a thousand percent of himself into everything.” A fond smile appears on his face, and Tommy is once again witness to the amazing bond those two have. This kind of friendship is so rare, they’re both so lucky to have each other – and Tommy is lucky to be let into it, even just a little bit. “Once he’s in, he’s in. And, Tommy,” Eddie looks him in the eyes, “Buck is definitely in, all the way, no turning back. He’s falling for you so hard and so fast, and letting all his guards down. Because that’s Buck, that’s what he does. And I just don’t want him to get too deep before you’re ready, before you’re both ready, and I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I get it.” Tommy nods once, because of course he sees where Eddie’s coming from. “But you have nothing to worry about, Eddie. With Evan…” His lips curl into a smile around the word. “I’m already so far gone.” He shakes his head a little. “I know it’s soon, but I’m really falling for him.” He says quietly, but surely. He’s not used to this, talking about his feelings, about dating, about a person he’s seeing, especially not with someone he’s only known for such a short time. But he and Eddie became fast friends, and he’s Evan’s best friend, and Tommy feels safe enough to say it. He’s also honest and straightforward, and he likes to say it how it is, and this is how it is. He’s falling – or, to be honest, has fallen already – very fast and very hard for Evan Buckley, and he doesn’t feel the need to hide it. Evan is it for him. And he’s going to tell him that soon.

“Good.” Eddie says, tone serious, but a soft smile is forming on his lips. “He’s very lovable. You’d be an idiot to not fall for him.”

“I know.” Tommy grins. From the moment they met, he knew there’s something about Evan, something that pulled him in, got his attention right away. They laughed about it later, after they officially started dating and talked about that whole situation, how Evan put so much effort into trying to get his attention, but he had it anyway, from the start. Tommy was just more subtle about it, and he couldn’t figure out if Evan was flirting that day he gave him the Harbor tour or not. Seems like even Evan didn’t know. He’s so adorable, and kind, and bright and happy like sunshine personified. How was Tommy supposed to take one look at him and not develop a crush, that only seems to keep intensifying the more he gets to know him?

“And, for the record, I don’t want you to get hurt, either. We’re friends, too. Unless you break my best friend’s heart, that is.” He adds, his tone a little teasing, before his smile changes into something fond and genuine. “I’m really happy you guys found each other, truly. I’ve never seen him like this.” He chuckles quietly, shakes his head. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but I can already tell you two just make sense. So, take good care of my best friend, Kinard.”

“Of course. I plan on it.” Tommy says, meaning it from the bottom of his heart. 

“Just, not too much PDA when I’m hanging out with you guys, yeah?” He grimaces. “I don’t wanna feel like I’m third-wheeling a boys' night.” He laughs, and so does Tommy.

“Well, I’m not really a big PDA guy anyway.” He shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “But who knows, I can’t really keep my hands to myself around Evan.”

“And it’s time to change the subject,” he shakes his head furiously, “I don’t wanna hear more than I have to. Buck already tells me way too much.” Eddie says quickly, and Tommy laughs again. 

But the subject changes, and their attention is mostly back on the game playing on the TV. They spend the rest of the evening like this, watching sports, drinking beer and chatting. That’s how Evan finds them when he lets himself into Tommy’s house later, since he left the door unlocked.

He walks into the room, says hi to Eddie, then unceremoniously plops down in Tommy’s lap, giving him a long, sweet kiss, smiling into it. Tommy’s free hand circles around his waist, the other still holding his beer.

“Hello to you, too, Evan, how was your day?” Tommy chuckles when they pull away, his nose rubbing against Evan’s. He was spending the day with Jee-Yun, giving Maddie and Howie the day to themselves.

“It was good, we went to the playground, and then to help Bobby and Athena with unpacking, and then had coffee at Hen’s.” Evan grins, his face still so close to Tommy’s he almost looks blurry. “But I missed you so much.” He presses another kiss to Tommy’s lips, which Tommy obviously reciprocates. When he pulls away and glances at Eddie, expecting him to have an amused but annoyed look on his face, or maybe a faux-disgust, but what he finds instead is the fondest, proudest look he’s seen from him, as he looks straight ahead at the TV, giving them a semblance of privacy. Eddie looks just genuinely so happy for his best friend, for both of them. It warms Tommy’s heart. Eddie glances at them, and their eyes meet, and he just rolls his eyes fondly, but is still smiling.

“Okay, baby, I missed you, too, but let’s leave that for later or Eddie won’t want to hang out with us anymore.” Tommy says, and Evan pulls away further, chuckling.

“Eh, we always have each other.” He teases and shrugs, and Eddie scoffs loudly.

“You know I can’t watch basketball with you. Or do Muay Thai.” Tommy raises his eyebrow, giving Evan a knowing look. He can barely watch any sports with Evan, actually, because he never really gets into it, and whenever he gets bored, somehow they end up making out through the whole thing. Evan’s really good at distracting Tommy from just about anything.

“Oh, that’s all you need me for?” Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Fine, then I’ll just leave you two-” he starts getting up, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Sit down and drink your beer.” Buck laughs, as he climbs off Tommy’s lap and pulls out a phone out of his pocket. Eddie sits back down, laughing as well. “I’m gonna order pizza for dinner. Any preferences?”

[read also on Ao3]

[calmcoldevening]

Hey hon, just read your Art x virgin HC. Although I kinda wanted to pick your brain on reader x confused inexperienced Virgin! Art…

Virgin!Art the clown x reader

Tw: smut, nsfw

Note: it's short but I tried. Show this guy real pleasure, babe

• Art got used to the fact that his human body was capable of feeling cold or in rare cases needing food, although his demonic abilities still made him immortal. But some other physiological issues remained incomprehensible to him.

• Art doesn't know how or why he left you alive and relatively unharmed, but your presence seemed almost bearable to him. He is used to the fact that you are often around, that you cook for him and from time to time blow his brains out with your discontent, like why he left traces of blood on the floor in your bathroom again.

• But it was okay, really okay. Art got used to it after a couple of weeks, accepting it as his new reality. At least you didn't scream once again and didn't try to turn him over to the police (he knew perfectly well that some boys in blue wouldn't stop him in any way, but he didn't want to shine once again before his next loud bloody "show")

• But sometimes he wondered why your body was different from his own. He's seen you change clothes or walk around the house in just a towel or underwear a hundred times, and he's seen women's bodies under his knife a million more times. And it really occupied his brain. The difference was obvious.

• Art saw some guys flirting with you in a bar a few times, and it pissed him off. You tried to laugh it off and try to get away from the guys, but they kept trying to touch you (of course, Art personally strangled them later). But he was interested in touching you as well. It looked strange, new to him.

• The first time he saw you naked, you never thought it would do anything to him. After all, you knew that Art wasn't really human, so you didn't expect any obvious reaction.

• But one day you came home pretty drunk and climbed up to Art with hugs. It was just awkward hugs on the couch and sloppy kisses. You sat on his lap with your arms around his neck and smeared his face paint with your grinning lips, whispering words like 'my handsome'. Art didn't expect any sensations. He had been in this situation before, and then he realized how stupid people can be under the influence of alcohol. But it felt different with you. He felt a strange burning sensation in his body, and his pants became uncomfortably tight under your warm thighs.

• Then he did not focus on it and the feeling quickly passed. But it came back later, when you weren't drunk anymore. He could just admire you for a long time or follow some female victim, unknowingly imagining you in her place. It made him very hard. His rapid breathing and heartbeat were driving him crazy, although he had long realized that his heart was almost dead in this body.

• But Art, surprisingly, liked the feeling. And the feeling of your weight in his arms was damn tempting.

• Although Art often thought about it, he did not know at all what it was called and why people felt it. That's why you were the one who initiated the whole thing.

• One dark evening, the two of you watched some kind of bloody horror movie that Art especially likes. Although he frowned and condemned the unreality of the bloody scenes with gestures. It is dark outside and heavy rain is dripping, pounding on the windows with force. Your hand gently took his gloved hand, tracing the rough cold knuckles. At first, he does not notice your touch, but gradually your hand moves higher and higher, gently wrapping around his neck. In one deft movement, you straddled his knees, pulling him closer to you by the neck. There's a sly smile on your face. Art's eyes widen in surprise, but he can't deny the anticipation growing in his chest, even though he didn't quite understand what you wanted from him.

• You gently move your hips back and forth, feeling the growing warmth under your body. Art didn't know that feeling. He seemed to be detached from his own body at the moment, but he was warm and pleasant. A strange tingling sensation in his body began to bother him a little. Your hands gently traced the fabric of his suit, your fingers gently glided over his makeup, sloppily smearing black lipstick. Art's hands instinctively rested on your hips, gently squeezing your flesh.

• His body was moving on its own. The strange tingling and growing heat were driving his brain crazy. The warmth of your soft thighs didn't help his frantic thoughts at all. The movie almost became background noise, all Art was focused on right now was you and the feelings you caused him.

• Art let out a soundless moan, feeling himself pressing against your body and feeling an almost painful pressure. But he frowned slightly, pressing your hips harder against his knees, and rolled his eyes for a moment. There was a momentary pleasant sensation through his body, which made his heart beat with renewed vigor, and his breathing quickened. God, you made him feel so good. He had never felt anything like this. His pants instantly got wet, pulling a satisfied chuckle out of you.

• "So fast sweet pie? Why don't we try again? 'm sure you'll like it more."

[aventurineswife]

-Hoo-shit- My brain is cooking up something fierce...

(SAHSRAU Idea Incoming)

So, remember the Painter!Creator? What if when they were young they had a lot of creative visions, of the idea of Honkai Star Rail, not specifically who characters were or what they would be like or do, but the idea of an intergalactic universe with different planets, cultures, and people in it, with travel being by train.

(Absolutely overjoyed with HSR releasing as a game, its like a dream come true!)

Now, pair this with the idea, that before they had eventually gotten sucked into the game, they didn't gain their technical ~Immortality~ till they turned like 15 or something and all the physically negative things that happened to them- be it, they got sick, they got a small injury, like a scrape or something, they had to go to the ER for an accident-

Several different planets- like over a thousand, with their terrain, wild life, and inhabitants all faced a crisis of some kind.

When they got a cut, scrape, or small injury, when they were like- under 5 years old, over 100 planets would experience a continental drift, forever physically shaping the Geography of them. When they got sick, when they were 10, over 1000 planets experienced heavy dormancy and withering with crops and animals, not to mention the people coming down with plagues and horrible diseases. When just before they had turned 15, they had gotten into a car accident- putting them in critical condition, the result commenced several different wars of many kinds- The Swarm Disaster being an example of that, and planet invasions/destruction- Boothill's planet being an example.

And as they grew up, coming over the age of 15, the Painter!Creator gains their technical ~Immortality~ which stopped any and all crisis under their physical inconvenience to a heavy pause, however leaving impacts on the history of everything in Honkai Star Rail, so when another crisis happens, its not under their influence of any kind, just life itself taking a few unfortunate pointers on how it should react under a certain time and place.

So, imagine how any and all characters/relevant characters (Of your choosing, but please include Boothill in this) would react to this information.

Also just to clarify, if your confused on how the timeline of this all would intercept concerning the physical negative inconveniences I just listed off, let's just say they turned 15 in April of 2020 since the game came out in 2023 on April 26, so they'd be 18 at that time, and 20 now.

Oh, this is insane in the best way possible.

The idea that Painter!Creator had these visions of a universe long before it even "existed"—and that their own physical state shaped its very history—is such a wild take on the concept of divinity. It makes them unknowingly responsible for so much of the universe's suffering, but also for its very existence.

And then they became immortal.

Not by choice. Not through power-hungry ambition. But simply because the universe stopped reacting to them. As if it had already been set in motion, as if it had finally learned how to run on its own, leaving them behind as a witness rather than a participant.

And then they got sucked into the game.

Suddenly, they are standing in the world they once glimpsed in their childhood dreams.

And the people? The ones who suffered, the ones who thrived, the ones whose lives were quietly molded by their injuries, their sickness, their pain?

How would they react?

This is where it gets really painful.

Boothill’s entire planet was annihilated.

He lost everything. His home, his people, his past.

And now he finds out why.

Not because of some grand cosmic war.

Not because of some malicious, calculated scheme.

Not even because of a mistake.

But because, somewhere, sometime, a young Creator was in a car accident.

He’d hate Them at first.

He’d despise the idea that everything he suffered was so meaningless.

But over time, he’d realize… it was never personal.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s even worse.

Because what do you do with anger when there’s no one to blame?

Dan Heng would take this… very quietly.

His mind would race, calculating the implications, the sheer weight of this knowledge.

He wouldn’t accuse or lash out. Instead, he’d just… study Them.

He’d want to know how They feel about it.

Do They feel guilt? Do They accept it? Have They even come to terms with what They are?

And if They haven’t? Dan Heng would be one of the few to actually ask:

“Then what do you want to do, knowing this?”

Oh, Kafka would love this.

Not in a cruel way. Not in a way that dismisses the tragedy of it.

But in the way that someone who sees the threads of fate would.

She’d see the narrative in it, the grand, cosmic poetry.

She’d wonder if They are still creating—if They still paint, dream, envision.

Because what They dream becomes reality.

And maybe, just maybe…

Kafka would whisper in Their ear, encouraging Them to dream again.

Because who knows? Maybe the universe is still listening.

Screwllum would have the most complex reaction.

On one hand, this is not logical.

The mere cause-and-effect relationship between the Creator’s experiences and the universe’s history should not exist.

And yet, it does.

For the first time in a long time, Screwllum cannot calculate the "why."

And that? That would fascinate him.

He would study Them, not out of worship, but out of a pure, unrelenting need to comprehend.

March would be the first to ask if They’re okay.

Because, Creator or not, that’s a lot to bear.

She’d wonder if They ever wanted this.

If They ever had a choice.

And if They ever just… want to be normal.

Welt, of course, would approach this with caution.

He has seen impossible things.

But the idea that this whole universe is the reflection of one person’s pain? That’s something even he struggles to accept.

And yet, he does.

Because the truth doesn’t need to be believable. It just needs to be.

What Does the Creator Feel?

This is the big question.

They didn’t choose this.

They were just a kid with a wild imagination and a body that got hurt, got sick, got broken.

And the universe listened.

Now They are here, standing among the people who unknowingly suffered under the weight of Their existence.

Do They try to fix things?

Do They simply live among Them, unseen and unrecognized?

Or do They let the universe continue on its own—just as it learned to do after They turned 15?

Because at the end of the day…

They’re still just one person.

But the universe will always be watching.

Okay guys, no more SAHSRAU/Creator!Reader AU 🙏

[tonysbed]

Die for you (7) | OP81 

Oscar Piastri x Singer!reader

summary: It wasn’t oscar’s plan to be the one to fix your reputation and spice up his, yet here he is and..have your eyes always looked so..radiant and beautiful?

warnings: awkward osc

not proofread

series masterlist | previous | next

-

Oscar woke up with a dull throbbing in his head, the kind that made him regret every single drink he’d downed the night before. His mouth was dry, his limbs felt heavier than usual, and for a moment, he considered going back to sleep—until he became aware of the warmth pressed against his chest.

His breath hitched.

His arm was draped over someone’s waist, his fingers resting lightly on soft skin. A face was tucked beneath his chin, breathing slow and steady against his collarbone. The scent of perfume—familiar, intoxicating—filled his senses.

His eyes snapped open.

Oh, shit.

It was you.

Still very much asleep, curled up against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hand flexed against your waist instinctively before he forced himself to go rigid. His mind was racing, trying to piece together how exactly this had happened.

The last thing he remembered was waiting for the Uber, you pressed against him as he held you close—something he definitely hadn’t thought through at the time. Then there was the car ride, the blurry mess of exhaustion and alcohol, stumbling into the hotel, and

He squeezed his eyes shut. Right. You had pulled him onto your bed, mumbling something about being too tired to care before passing out almost immediately. And apparently, instead of leaving like a normal person, he had fallen asleep right beside you.

Fuck.

Carefully, he tried to untangle himself without waking you. But the moment he moved, you shifted, letting out a soft, sleepy sigh as you pressed your face against his chest.

Oscar went completely still.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, far too loud in the quiet of the hotel room. The room that you should not have been sharing.

Get out. Get out now.

Ignoring the way something in his chest twisted at the warmth of you against him, Oscar finally managed to slip his arm away and pull himself off the bed. He stood there for a moment, running a hand through his mess of curls, staring at your still-sleeping figure.

Shit, you looked peaceful

No. Bad thought. Not helpful.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his phone and practically bolted from the room, shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible.

The moment he was safely in his own room, he exhaled sharply, pressing his back against the door.

What the fuck was that?

His head was still pounding, but the adrenaline from sheer panic was starting to take over. This was bad. Not because anything happened—because it didn’t, obviously—but because it was weird. And awkward. And the last thing he needed was to make things uncomfortable between the two of you.

This was supposed to be a PR stunt. You weren’t supposed to wake up in each other’s arms.

Rubbing his face, he groaned.

Great. Fantastic. Amazing start to the day.

By the time you finally woke up, Oscar had already showered, gotten dressed, and ordered room service—anything to look busy and normal by the time you inevitably had to see each other again.

The knock on his door came faster than he was ready for.

He swallowed hard before opening it, coming face to face with you—hair messy from sleep, dressed in a hoodie far too big for you, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who had been unknowingly cuddling him hours ago.

“Morning,” you said, voice still a little groggy.

“Hey,” he replied, stepping aside to let you in.

You flopped onto the couch, grabbing a piece of toast from his plate like you owned the place.

“How’s your head?” you asked, chewing absently.

“Like I got hit by a truck.”

You smirked. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

Oscar hesitated before sitting down across from you, feeling the weight of the morning pressing in. He should acknowledge what happened. He should say something. But instead, his mind scrambled for something else to focus on—something safer.

His phone was still on the table, open to a Twitter thread. Paparazzi photos from the night before. Of you and him.

Of him holding you outside the club, his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, his hands covering your stomach like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You followed his gaze and grabbed the phone before he could stop you. “Ohhh, what’s this?”

He groaned. “Don’t.”

You laughed, scrolling through the thread. “Damn, we really sold the hell out of it last night.”

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You guess?” You raised an eyebrow. “Oscar, these are gold. The fans are eating this shit up. ‘Softest boyfriend ever.’ ‘Oscar is so in love.’ Oh—‘I want what they have.’”

His ears burned.

You grinned, looking at him. “See? All great for our image.”

And there it was—the perfect excuse to keep things strictly professional.

Oscar nodded, forcing a chuckle. “Yeah. Definitely good PR.”

But as you continued scrolling, laughing at the comments, he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

Because deep down, he knew.

The way he held you last night? The way it felt?That wasn’t PR.

That’s what scared him the most.

-

yn

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and 2.5 m others

yn 🇦🇺❤️

*tagged oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux*

alexandrasaintmleux ❤️❤️

mclaren he’s getting that home win with us sooner or later, we’re locked in 🔒

user awww look at them

user gonna sleep on a highway

user idk, this seems forced

oscarpiastri ❤️

yn ❤️🐨

user I wonder how hattie is feeling? I mean she LOVES yn‘s music. Or how she reacted 👀

hattiepiastri I laughed in his face until she actually rounded the corner

yn my fav piastri 🫶🏻🫶🏻

hattiepiastri lets run away together

yn 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

oscarpiastri 😟🤨

-

Oscar wasn’t avoiding you.

At least, that’s what he told himself as he took the long way through the paddock to avoid walking past your hospitality suite. And when he left his hotel room before your usual breakfast time, he was just being efficient. That’s all.

It had been two days since the night you’d fallen asleep together. Two days since he had woken up with you in his arms, since he had panicked and bolted, since he had sat stiffly across from you in his hotel room, brushing it off as great PR while something twisted deep in his chest.

And now? Now he was thinking too much.

Oscar had always been good at compartmentalizing—on track, in the media, even with this whole fake relationship thing. But now, no matter how much he tried to push it down, he couldn’t stop feeling things. The way your skin had been warm under his fingers. The way you’d sighed in your sleep, pressing closer to him like you belonged there. The way you had laughed the next morning, completely unbothered, while he was sitting there trying not to unravel.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It was supposed to be simple. Strategic. A way to boost both of your profiles.

So why the hell was he panicking over something as stupid as waking up next to you?

“Mate, what is going on with you?”

Oscar blinked, snapping out of his thoughts to find Lando staring at him from across the McLaren motorhome.

“What?”

Lando scoffed, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth. “You’ve been weird all day.”

“I haven’t.”

“You have.” He pointed his fork at Oscar. “You’ve been twitchy. And weirdly quiet, even for you. Did your fake girlfriend finally dump you?”

Oscar groaned, rubbing his face. “Lando—”

“Because honestly, I wouldn’t blame her,” Lando continued, smirking. “I saw the pictures, man. You looked way too into it.”

Oscar’s stomach tightened. “It was for PR.”

“Sure,” Lando said, dragging out the word like he didn’t believe him at all. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding her all day, right?”

“I haven’t—”

“You have.”

Oscar clenched his jaw, gripping the edge of the table. Lando was still looking at him like he knew something, which was annoying as hell because Oscar wasn’t even sure he knew what was going on himself.

“You’re overthinking this,” Lando said finally, a little too smug.

Oscar glared. “I’m not.”

Lando just shrugged. “Okay. But if you keep acting weird, she’s gonna notice.”

That was the last thing Oscar needed.

And sure enough, when he finally caved and saw you later that day, you did notice.

“Alright, what’s your deal?” you asked, arms crossed as you leaned against the doorframe of his drivers room.

Oscar stiffened, keeping his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. “What do you mean?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t do that. You’ve been acting weird since we got back from the club. Did I snore or something?”

His lips twitched despite himself. “No.”

“Then what?” you pressed.

He hesitated. He should say something. Make a joke. Play it off. But instead, all he could manage was:

“I just think we should be more careful.”

Your brows furrowed. “Careful?”

“With… crossing lines,” he said vaguely.

You stared at him for a long moment, expression unreadable. “You think we crossed a line?”

Oscar shifted his weight, avoiding your gaze. “I just don’t want things to get messy.”

You were quiet for a beat. Then—

“Well, it was messy,” you said, completely serious.

His stomach dropped. “What?”

You took a step closer. “Your hair. When you woke up.” A slow grin spread across your lips. “Total disaster.”

Oscar groaned. “You’re not funny.”

“I am,” you said, clearly enjoying this. “But okay, if it’s messy to sleep next to each other after drinking too much, then noted. I’ll be sure to banish you to your own room next time.”

Oscar sighed. “That’s not what I—”

You smirked, cutting him off. “Relax, Piastri. It was just PR, right?”

He swallowed hard. “Right.”

And if you noticed the hesitation in his voice, you didn’t say anything.

But as he left, jaw tight and thoughts still tangled, Oscar knew one thing for sure.

It hadn’t felt like just PR. Not even a little bit.

-

-

f1gossip

f1gossip Oscar Piastri and Yn Yln in shanghai before the Grand Prix this tuesday!

user they’re so cute

user Run oscar, ruuuun

user she’s such a red flag

user she’ll dump him sooner or later

user she’s never been seen with a guy multiple times until now in quite some time, can we relax??

-

oscarpiastri

liked by yn, sabrinacarpenter, landonorris and 208k others

oscarpiastri very encouraging week at home.

*tagged mclaren / yn / landonorris*

yn 🧡🧡

oscarpiastri 🧡🧡

mclaren we’ll come back stronger ✋🙂‍↕️

user ynnnnnn cameo

user osc😢

user Australia is no longer your home race, it’s china now!!

user need their love ☝️

-

oscar’s caption killed me when he posted. And i’m..still speechless. Let’s hope this weekend goes better 🥲

[badasoneandonly]

𝘎𝘐𝘝𝘌 𝘔𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌 || 𝘏𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘎 𝘐𝘕-𝘏𝘖 × 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙

𝘞𝘤: 1,550k

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺:

Your quiet neighbor, Hwang In-ho, secretly obsesses over you, eliminating anyone who gets too close. When you discover his dark secret, you try to escape, but he always finds you. Realizing there's no way out, you surrender to his twisted love, trapped forever.

𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘙𝘌: !𝘠𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙𝘌¡ 𝘐𝘕𝘏𝘖! 𝘖𝘉𝘚𝘌𝘚𝘚𝘐𝘝𝘌¡ 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘓𝘌𝘙, 𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘌𝘋𝘠, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘔𝘈, 𝘚𝘓𝘐𝘊𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 𝘈 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘛𝘞𝘐𝘚𝘛, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘔𝘈, 𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘐𝘊 𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌, 𝘎𝘖𝘙𝘌 (𝘚𝘖𝘙𝘛 𝘖𝘍)

𝘈/𝘯: 𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘺 (𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘮) 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥... I would recommend listening to the music.

You were the kind of person who unknowingly captivated others, drawing them in with your warmth and kindness. Your smile was effortless, your laugh easy to find, and you didn't notice the effect it had on those around you. You were oblivious to the way people gravitated toward you, to the way they lingered longer than necessary in your presence. For you, it was simply normal. People came and went in your life- nothing too significant, nothing out of the ordinary. But for one person, everything about you was extraordinary.

Hwang In-ho, your quiet, reserved neighbor, had been watching you for a long time. You didn't realize it, but he had taken an interest in your life far beyond anything you could have imagined. He memorized your habits, knew when you came and went, what you liked to eat, and who you spent your time with. Most importantly, he made sure to remove anyone who posed even the slightest threat to your attention.

It started small, with little things you wouldn't have thought twice about. Casual conversations in the hallways, brief greetings when you passed each other in the building, nothing out of the ordinary. But over time, you began to notice the way his gaze lingered just a little too long, how his voice became slightly deeper whenever he spoke to you. And yet, you didn't think much of it. He was just a neighbor, someone you occasionally spoke with. You didn't know that behind that calm, collected exterior was a man consumed by obsession. It wasn't long before the disappearances started.

At first, you didn't think much of it. Daniel, the friendly coworker who had expressed interest in taking you out for coffee, had suddenly stopped coming to work. You asked your manager about him, but she simply shrugged and told you he'd moved. That was odd, but life went on.

Then it happened again. Jae, the guy who always helped you out at the gym, suddenly wasn't around anymore. You asked about him, but no one had seen him for days. No one could explain where he went. It was strange, but you figured he must've had his reasons.

And then, there was Jinwoo, the cute barista at the cafe you frequented. You'd barely noticed the way his eyes sparkled whenever you came in, or the way he nervously tried to start conversations with you. But when you showed up one evening for your usual order, he wasn't there. A new barista greeted you instead, but when you asked about Jinwoo, the response was the same-he'd quit. Moved away. The same strange feeling cropt Into your chest, but you ignored it. You never saw the pattern. The pieces never fit together.

In-ho, however, saw everything.

He always there, watching from the shadows, ensuring that no one got too close to you. When someone lingered too long or dared to approach you with intentions that weren't pure, he made sure they vanished. He wasn't cruel, no. He was simply protecting you, ensuring that nothing or no one would take you from him.

You never noticed. Not until it was too late.

One evening, you were sitting on your couch, enjoying a quiet night in. The city buzzed outside your window, but inside, all was peaceful. You were so absorbed in your thoughts when there came a knock at the door-sharp, deliberate.

You opened the door to find in-ho standing there, his usual stoic expression in place. For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of unease, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. He was your neighbor, after all.

"In-ho? What's up?" you asked, your voice warm as you greeted him.

"I brought you something," he said, his voice steady, almost too calm.

"Oh, you didn't have to," you replied, still not picking up on the subtle tension in the air. You gestured for him to enter, stepping aside.

He held out a small, remarkable box. "Please. Just open it."

You gave him a puzzled glance but took the box anyway. "Alright, let's see what you've got." You sat down at your table and began to unde the ribbon.

But as soon the lid was lifted, the air seemed to freeze.

Inside the box was something you never could have imagined-a severed head, blood still fresh, Its eyes wide open in a frozen expression of terror. You recognized him immediately. It was Jinwoo, the barista.

Your body went cold, your mind struggling to make sense of what you were seeing. The box slipped from your hands, landing with a dull thud on the floor. You staggered backward, your heart pounding in your chest.

"In-ho..." you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering, his expression still as composed as ever.

"I told you, Y/N," he said softly, his voice low, almost tender. "I'll do anything to keep you safe. I can't let anyone else get close to you."

Your mouth went dry, panic rising in your chest. "W-what did you do?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"He was a threat," In-ho said matter-of-factly. "I couldn't let him take something that wasn't his to have."

You stumbled back, the room spinning around you. Your mind screamed for you to run, to get away from him. "This is insane! You can't do this, In-ho!"

His expression darkened, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his face. "Insane?" he repeated. "What's insane is letting people like him get close to you. You're mine, Y/N. You always were."

The words hit you like a slap to the face, but you couldn't move. His eyes were dark, possessive, and you felt your body freeze as fear took over.

"I don't want to hurt you," he continued, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "But I will do whatever it takes to protect you."

The knife in his hand glinted in the low light, and you realized just how much he meant what he said. "Put it down, In-ho," you whispered, trying to find some way to reason with him. "Please. We can talk about this. Just... just stop."

He looked at the blade in his hand and then back at you. His voice softened, but the edge of control never left. "I can't let you go, Y/N. You're mine. I'll always keep you safe. No one else can have you."

It wasn't until the last word left his lips that you realized how true it was. You weren't just a passing thought to him. You were an obsession. And nothing would ever change that.

You didn't remember how you managed to escape that night. All you could remember was running. Running until your lungs burned and your legs shook. The streets were dark, and you didn't know where you were going. All you knew was that you had to get away from him, from his suffocating presence.

But the thing about in-ho that he was always watching. He would always find you.

A few weeks passed in a blur. You changed your phone number, moved to a new apartment, and tried to put as much distance between yourself and the nightmare you'd narrowly escaped. But it was never enough. In-ho was always just one step behind, and one by one, people in your life began to disappear.

You couldn't outrun him. You couldn't hide. And so, eventually, when you saw him again, standing in front of you with that same calm expression, you knew there was no use fighting. You were trapped in his world now.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice gentle. "I told you, didn't I No one else can have you. Not while I'm alive."

And in that moment, you understood. You couldn't run anymore. There was escape.

"I'll stay with you," you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

In-ho's eyes softened, but there was something cold beneath the tenderness. "You're mine, Y/N. I'll keep you safe. Always."

And just like that, you belonged to him. Forever.

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵: @thatbitchanna27 @endlessfl4mes @sunshiines-stuff @warlabels @icomehereforthefics @totowolfffcheco @m0rtifiedg0th @crystalizia @hwang-inhosb1tch

𝘈/𝘯: 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵... 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥...

[wooyoungiewritings]

"A Familiar Kind of New" - Mingi x Reader Epilogue

Summary: You and Mingi are months deep into your relationship. You've never been happier and in love. Though you are going strong, your relationship is long distance, until he surprises you with something you hadn't seen coming. He's truly the best thing that's ever happened to you - so you decide to show him that. How, you may ask? Let me just say; it's not for the weak ones, and you might have to make sure no one can see your screen while reading...

Word count: 4K

Genre: Fluff, RIIICH Mingi, SMUT, Non-idol-fic

warnings: Rich Mingi with fem reader (fem pronouns). Fingering, oral (male/fem receiving), dirty talk (Mingi is NOT shy) unprotected sex, manhandling, lmk if I missed anything!

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Mingi in any way.

It had been 7 months since that night in his apartment, since swollen knuckles and confessions turned into kisses and love. Since you and Mingi stopped pretending to be anything less than completely, irrevocably in it together. Now, you were his. And he was yours. No doubts. No fear. Just a quiet, overwhelming kind of love that filled every second spent together. Or at least, every possible second spent together.. He had to go back home two months after you became official, and you’ve been living long-distance since then. 

He would travel back to you every chance he got, you would go to him or you would meet halfway at a hotel and spend a weekend together. It was not ideally how you imagined finally being his girlfriend, but if this meant that he was yours, it was all worth it. 

He is worth everything.

Things had been so incredibly easy these seven months despite the circumstances. Not a single time had you questioned his loyalty, having him constantly showering you with love. Random flowers appearing in front of your door, surprise visits, non-stop communication and just pure love every single second.

So when he told you to wear something “comfy but cute” and wouldn’t say where you were going, you figured it was one of his usual surprises. Mingi had become good at that lately, lavishing you in tiny, perfect moments that made you feel like the luckiest person on earth.

You hear the sound of elevator doors open and Mingi starting to guide you forwards with both of his hands covering your eyes. Your steps echo with every step you take and your hand find his in front of your eyes. 

“This is terrifying.” you state, your other hand out as you take tiny steps into something you have no idea what is. 

“We’re almost there” he has a smile on his lips, you hear it. You stop walking abruptly, second guessing what he is dragging you unknowingly into. He sighs behind you. “I promise it’s not a prank. I would never mess with you like that again after the haunted house incident.”

You snort. “That was one time.”

“It was enough times,” he mutters dramatically, then laughs shortly. “Come on. Trust me?”

You sigh but smile, letting your trust into him as he gently guides you forward, suddenly unlocking a door with a little metallic click.

“This way,” he says softly. You walk in, feeling a new type of floor beneath your feet, the subtle scent of fresh paint, and something like lavender in the air. “Are you ready?” 

You nod. “I’m ready.”

The light suddenly becomes brighter as he removes his hands and steps next to you. It takes a short moment for you to register where you are, but then it hits you.

You blink, and the breath leaves your lungs.

The apartment is massive, stunning, with glass windows that offer a panoramic view of the city skyline. The sun is setting, casting golds and pinks across the walls, and the inside is all warm neutrals and cool-toned touches that just scream Mingi. It’s brand new, a new building, a new chapter. And the best part? It's quiet. Peaceful. Like him.

“Mingi…” you breathe, turning to him. “This is insane. Did you-, wait, did you buy this?”

He nods sheepishly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I, uh… I signed the papers this morning.”

You look at him, heart squeezing in your chest. He looks almost nervous, like he’s waiting for you to be overwhelmed, or to back away. Instead, you throw your arms around him, and he immediately wraps himself around you, chuckling against your shoulder.

“Anything to be close to you,” he laughs. "I wanna make it easier to spend time together. Take you out on random Tuesday nights. Be here when you have a bad day.”

“You idiot,” you whisper affectionately. “You bought a whole penthouse to be closer to me?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What, you really think I was gonna keep letting you be three and a half hours away?"

You laugh, wiping at your eyes as he pulls back and grins.

“Okay, ready for the tour?”

He leads you through the space, showing off a dreamy open-plan kitchen (“You can paint while I make ramyeon. Domestic, right?”), the bedroom with a balcony overlooking the skyline (“So we can stargaze, obviously.”), and the massive bathroom (“Of course, the bathroom with a double sink, in case my girlfriend comes over and we’re getting ready in the morning together and… I might have gotten a bathtub big enough for two… just saying.”)

But the final stop takes your breath away.

He opens a door to a sunlit room. Blank white walls, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a brand-new easel already set up. Canvases stacked in the corner. A cart of neatly organized paints. A stool. Your favorite brushes in a jar.

“Mingi…” your voice cracks, walking further into the space.

“It’s yours,” he says softly. “You always said you couldn’t paint at your place because you didn’t have the space or the light you liked, so… now you do. And it’s close. So if you want to paint something at 2am, or you just wanna be here, you can.”

You look around the room, speechless. Your hands shake a little as you turn back to him.

Then he pulls something out of his pocket.

A key.

“Also, this,” he says with a nervous smile. “No pressure. No expectations. Just… if you ever need to be here, if you ever want to, you can be.” He holds it out, resting it in the palm of your hand like he’s offering you something sacred. “I want you to feel like this is yours too.”

Your throat tightens as you stare down at the key, shiny and gold in the soft light. He’s watching you so carefully, like the world hangs on what you’ll say next. You close your fingers around it, then reach up and cup his cheek.

“I love you,” you whisper.

He grins, so full of emotion it nearly knocks you over. “Good. Because I’ve been kind of obsessed with you since you called me cute in eleventh grade.” 

You laugh through your tears, and he wraps his arms around you again, the city glowing around you, the future wide open. He cups your jaw, runs his thumb across your cheek, and then kisses you, soft, slow, adoring.

You melt into it, but something shifts in you. Gratitude blooms in your chest and spreads lower, warmer, into something else entirely. You kiss him again, deeper this time, and you feel him hum softly against your lips. You push him backwards until his back is straight against a wall. Before he can ask what you’re thinking, you sink to your knees.

Mingi blinks, startled, hands instinctively catching your shoulders. “Babe, what are you-?”

“Let me,” you whisper, fingers already trailing up under his shirt, grazing warm skin. “I’m thanking you for being the most thoughtful boyfriend in the world. Please.”

He swallows hard, eyes flicking toward the door. “Baby, the movers are gonna be here any minute and we have a dinner reservation in–”

You look up at him, eyes wide and certain. “I don’t care.”

A soft curse leaves him, like he’s already losing the battle. “Fuck, baby…”

Your hands move to the zipper of his pants, tugging gently. “Please.”

That word breaks him.

“Alright,” he breathes, voice lower now. His hands stroke through your hair as he exhales shakily. “You wanna thank me like this?”

You nod, biting your lip.

“Then be good for me,” he says, soft but commanding. “Open your mouth.”

Your fingers curl into the waist of his pants, tugging them down just enough. He’s already hard, thick and heavy, flushed with heat, and you swear you hear the hitch in his breath when your fingers wrap around him.

“Shit,” he murmurs, head tipping back slightly. “You’re not playing fair.”

“I’m not trying to,” you say, voice sweet and teasing as you press a kiss to the underside of his length, just to hear him breathe your name like that again. He watches you from above, one hand in your hair now, the other trying to grip the wall like he needs grounding. His gaze is dark, nearly burning, but still soft at the edges when it’s on you.

“You always gonna drop to your knees for me like this?” he says lowly, thumb brushing along your jaw before settling at your lower lip. “Make me forget how to think?”

You open your mouth for him, tongue flicking against the tip of him in response, and the deep groan he lets out curls straight through your core.

“Fuck, that mouth,” he growls, hand tightening ever so slightly in your hair.

You hum around him, sinking lower, slower (intentionally so) and you feel the way his legs tense. His control holds, but it’s a tight line.

“That’s it. Nice and slow,” he rasps, voice thicker now. “Not too much, baby. Not yet.”

He’s guiding the rhythm without thrusting, letting you set the pace even as his tone deepens with every word. You feel the pull of it, how much he wants to take over, to lose himself in you. But he’s holding back, even as your tongue swirls, your lips glide.

“You trying to ruin dinner?” he says, half-laugh, half-growl. “Or just testing how long I can hold out?”

You release him with a soft pop, smiling up at him with damp lips and dazed eyes. “Maybe both.” Your lips are shining by the mix of spit and pre-cum.

His head tips down toward you, and he kisses you, deep, breathless, tasting himself on your tongue. “You’re dangerous,” he mutters against your lips, then gently pulls you to your feet. “You think you’ve won,” he murmurs, voice like velvet and smoke, “but you’re not the one in control.” he manhandles you like he’s been waiting his whole life for this exact moment, and maybe he has. One second you’re kissing him breathless, the next, he’s spinning you around and pressing your front against the floor-to-ceiling window. Your palms hit the cool glass with a gasp, your breath fogging the surface

“Mingi..-” the glass is cold against your chest, but the heat pouring off of him makes you forget it in seconds.

“I’m gonna fuck you in every room eventually, might as well get started.”

Mingi steps in behind you, one palm pressed flat to the window beside your head, the other trailing slowly, teasingly, down the curve of your spine. You can feel the tension in his breath as he leans in, his lips brushing your shoulder.

“Stay just like this,” he murmurs. “I want to taste you first.”

Your knees already feel weak, but you do as he says, arching your back slightly, offering yourself to him completely. You hear the low, appreciative groan he lets out, one that goes straight to your core. He lets your dress rest on your hips, giving him a full view of you. His fingers come first, two of them sliding between your thighs, parting you gently as he finds just how soaked you already are for him.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, dragging his fingers through your folds, slow and deliberate. “You’re dripping.”

You barely manage a breathy nod before he sinks to his knees behind you, his hand on your thigh pushing your legs just a little farther apart. The other hand sliding your pranties to the side. And then, his mouth.

He licks into you like he’s starving for it, his tongue tracing lazy, torturous circles over your clit while two fingers slide back inside you with a perfect curl. He holds your hips steady with his free hand as you moan into the window, the vibrations from your voice echoing back at you from the glass.

“Mingi, fuck… please-”

“Don’t run from it,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his voice making your thighs shake. “Let me take my time.”

And he does. He devours you like it’s sacred, alternating between sucking gently and flattening his tongue, his fingers never stopping their deep, slow thrusts. Every time you start to tremble, he eases up just a little, cruel with how much control he has, how he knows exactly when you’re about to fall. He loves it. Loves the way you whimper and grind back into his face. Loves the slick mess you’re leaving behind. Loves the way you can’t hold back for long.

And just when you're about to tip over the edge...

He pulls away.

Your body jolts from the loss, a broken gasp falling from your lips.

But then he’s standing again, pressing himself flush against your back, his hand cupping your chin to turn your head so he can kiss you - filthy and full of the taste of you on his tongue.

His voice is lower now, practically a growl in your ear. “I’ll take care of you, baby. But you’re not gonna walk out of this room steady. You know that, right?”

“The window-...” You begin.

“We’re too high up,” he growls, gripping your hips and pulling your ass back against him. “No one can see you. Just me.”

You moan at the possessiveness in his tone, at the way his fingers tighten on your hips like you might disappear if he lets go. He’s so hard, thick and heavy against your backside, and your whole body is already aching for him.

“You wanted to thank me, didn’t you?” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck as he slides your panties to the side again. “Then let me have you like this. Mine. Against the window. Let me fuck you like I’m showing the world who you belong to.”

You’re gone for him. And you let him, happily, breathlessly, desperately. He doesn’t tease for long. He slides his cock through your folds once, twice, then, without another word, he sinks into you in one smooth, brutal thrust. You cry out, forehead resting against the glass as your body takes him in.

“That’s it,” he groans, voice wrecked. “God, you feel so good. Like you were made for me.”

He starts to move, hips snapping forward with a rhythm that makes your knees buckle. His grip is bruising, his thrusts deep, dragging obscene moans from your throat as he fucks you harder, rougher, faster. Your breasts press into the glass, your breath fogs it up, and all you can think about is how good it feels to be his, to be taken like this.

“You hear that?” he pants against your ear, one hand trailing down to rub tight, slow circles over your clit. “You’re so fuckin’ wet. You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, Mingi, fuck-”

“That’s right, baby,” he growls, voice thick with lust. “My good girl. Letting me fuck her against a damn window like she’s my favorite toy.”

Your legs start to shake and he knows, he can feel how close you are. He leans over you more, chest against your back, one hand gripping your throat lightly from behind to tilt your head up.

“Come for me,” he snarls. “Right here. While the whole world’s beneath your feet.”

And then…

Knock knock.

Your heart stops.

You freeze, panicked, but Mingi just smirks, cock still buried deep inside you, and presses a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t. Make. A sound.”

He rolls his hips, slowly this time, but just as deep. And your moan dies against his palm.

“Let them wait,” he whispers, voice dripping with hunger. “You’re not done. And neither am I.”

You’re clenching around him, your body still trembling, but Mingi’s not slowing down- not even a little. If anything, he gets rougher, the slap of skin against skin echoing off the tall windows as he chases his own release.

“Better be quiet or Yunho will hear how my cock is wrecking that pretty pussy of yours and we don’t want that, now do we?" he groans, watching the way your body shudders for him, how you take every inch like it’s exactly where it belongs. 

You whimper under your breath, shaking your head, overwhelmed and overstimulated, but you don’t want him to stop. His hand slides from your mouth down to your throat, not squeezing, just holding, possessive. Gentle, even in his dominance. He leans in close, lips at your ear, hips still pounding against your ass.

“You want me to come inside you?” he pants, breath hot and desperate. “You want me to fill you up while you drip down this fuckin’ window?”

You nod frantically, moaning his name like a prayer.

"You're gonna keep that fucking cum in you while we go out, let it remind you who you belong to." He kisses your skin. "You’ve always been mine, baby. Always.” he claims.

And then it hits.

The orgasm hits you like lightning - white-hot and overwhelming. You cry out his name, nails scraping at the window, thighs trembling as he fucks you through it. Your body tightens around him, your voice breaking into a sob of pleasure, tears stinging your eyes from how intense it is.

Mingi loses it.

“Shit, fuck- oh my god-” he groans, burying himself to the hilt as he comes, hard and deep, filling you up with every pulse. His hands grip your waist like he’s afraid he’ll fall if he lets go, his chest heaving, lips parted as he moans your name over and over again.

Time slows. Everything quiets.

The only sound left is your breathing, both of you breathless, spent, pressed together with the city glittering far beneath your feet. And then Mingi wraps his arms around you, pulling you back into his chest, still inside you, still catching his breath.

He kisses your shoulder, your neck, your cheek. Soft now. Reverent.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice cracking just a little as he buries his face in your hair. “God, I love you so much.”

You turn your head to look at him, still panting, still floating, and smile.

“I love you too, Mingi.”

He pulls out gently, helping you turn around in his arms. You’re a mess, sweaty, flushed, still trembling, but he cradles your face in his hands like you’re art. Like you’re a miracle. “Are you okay?” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your lip, his tone completely different now. Soft, warm, protective.

You nod, teary-eyed but glowing. “More than okay.”

He smiles, that shy, boyish grin that makes your heart ache. And then he kisses you, deep and slow, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth all over again.

The knock at the door comes again just seconds after Mingi helps you clean up, stealing one more kiss before he smooths your hair and grins like a man who’s never been happier - or more smug. You stay back for a moment, catching your breath, while he heads toward the door, perfectly composed in a sleek, all-black suit that hugs his frame too well. He looks expensive. He is expensive. And every inch of him screams confident, unbothered power.

When he opens the door, Yunho is the first to walk in, all smirking eyes and silent observations. He doesn’t say much… he doesn’t need to. One glance at Mingi’s mussed hair and satisfied smirk, and he huffs out a low chuckle.

“Uh huh,” he murmurs knowingly, brushing past. “You look like you own Seoul,” Yunho says by way of greeting.

Mingi smirks. “I do. In a few districts, at least.”

Yunho laughs as the moving crew begins to file into the penthouse behind him. Boxes, protective blankets, crates labeled with sleek handwriting. They move efficiently, all business.

But one voice cuts through the calm.

“Wow,” it says, over-enthusiastic. “This place is… wow. I mean-.. this is something else.”

Mingi doesn’t even have to look. That voice? He’d know it in a crowd of thousands.

Jae.

Jae, in a moving uniform, hat pulled low, eyes darting around the space like he’s just stepped into a billionaire’s showroom. “You got some really nice stuff.” 

Mingi doesn’t say a word. He just gives a tight nod, turning back to Yunho. “Media console goes against the north wall,” Mingi says. “Speakers are already wired in behind the panel.”

“Got it.” Yunho glances between the two men, catching the tension but not commenting.

Meanwhile, Jae keeps circling like he’s never seen wealth before. The clean, luxurious space. The high-rise view. The tasteful furniture that’s already arrived. The faint smell of expensive cologne lingering in the air. His eyes linger on Mingi a moment too long before he speaks. “Wow, this place is huge. No wonder you have so many things. This couch is beautiful. Custom, right?”

“It is.” Mingi answers. Short. Cold. No emotion showing on his face.

Jae hesitates. “Right. Well… this place is insane. Didn’t expect-”

“Don’t strain yourself thinking,” Mingi cuts in smoothly. “You’re here to carry things. So carry them. The studio boxes go by the back wall, by the windows. Don’t scratch the marble. If you do, you’re paying for it.”

Jae doesn’t answer. He just looks around him like he’s a puppy who got caught peeing on the carpet. Mingi lets the silence sit until Jae can do nothing but nod and accept. 

You finally step out of the room. Flushed but glowing, dressed to perfection, heels clicking softly on the floor. Your hair’s still slightly tousled from earlier, your lips kiss-bitten, trying to act casual even though you know you’ve still got that just-fucked glow. Mingi catches your eyes and gives you a look, hungry again, somehow- but he doesn’t say a word. Not yet.

Yunho clocks it instantly. His smirk widens.

Jae’s eyes flick to you and he gives a faint, familiar smile, like he’s about to say something.

But you walk right past him without a glance, straight to Mingi.

“Hey,” you say, walking toward him. Your fingers slide into his, and he squeezes back instantly, his body naturally angling toward you like a magnet. You grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek without noticing, or maybe not caring, that Jae is watching. You reach over to straighten the collar of his jacket with a knowing little smile. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, just making sure everything is the way it should be. Because it is. Right, Jae?” Mingi eyes dart to the man in the middle of the room, tail in between his legs. Whether or not he answers, you can’t hear. You just see him nodding and getting back to move the boxes to the right places. 

Yunho raises a brow with a soft laugh. “You two heading out?”

“Dinner,” Mingi softly replies, already leading you toward the door. “You’ve got this, right?”

“Obviously,” Yunho waves him off. “Enjoy your fancy rich people night.”

As the two of you walk towards the door, Mingi throws one last glance over his shoulder.

“Oh, and Jae?” His voice is pure steel. “Try not to scratch the floors. You can’t afford them.” Mingi sends him an impertinent smile before he opens the door for you with that same gentleman’s grace, like he didn’t just wreck you minutes ago against the glass, and once you’re through, he places a hand on the small of your back. 

You glance at him, smiling. “Was that necessary?”

He smirks. “Not at all.”

“But it was hot.”

“Exactly.” he smirks and you step into the elevator, the golden light catching on his watch, your fingers interlacing.

You giggle, feeling so insanely proud of Mingi. You stare up at him. His jaw sharp, hair ruffled to perfection and lips still a little swollen from your kisses earlier. He notices your stare, and once again, he falls in love with the sight next to him. Your dress, your smile, your eyes. You’re unreal. 

He leans in to whisper low in your ear, sending shivers down your entire body. “You look too good. Might have to skip dessert and come home early..”

TAGLIST: I only have one main taglist, so if you wish to be added/removed, then let me know! xx

@lveegsoi  @vixensss  @yizhou-time @imgenieforyou-boy @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @ateezswonderland @cozypaint @blutiny @aerangi @arigakittyo @femaholicc @queenofdumbfuckery @mingiatz @hwaskookies @vent-stink @desanslogique @taestrwbrry

[laurfilijames]

Blurred

Pairing: Will "Ironhead" Miller x female reader

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Rough oral sex/face fucking. Fingering. Mention of gunshot wound. *reader is described as having enough hair to hold

Summary: Trauma from the events in South America start to catch up to Will and cause him to snap, blurring the line between him staying in control and taking it out on you.

A/N: Uhhhhh so I guess I kind of made a loophole for myself in that I said I would stop posting once Breathe was finished and it's not...I don't know why I'm sharing this, if I'm honest.

---

One more sleepless night fueled by night terrors led to one more short fuse blown, his patience and control abolished by stress brought on by a steadily accumulated guilt which all amalgamated into where he found himself now.

Will’s teeth clenched tightly together, his unhinged grunts and curses filling the air, his foot propped up on the ledge of the mattress so his leg provided him more momentum and force.

Your presence on the floor between his legs was barely on his radar, though the reason he was so lost in pleasure was on account of your mouth wrapped around his cock, sloppily sucking and sputtering on his size that he continued to slam down your throat with each barbaric thrust.

The silkiness of your hair slipping through his fingers would occasionally register, most of it twisted up around his large hand in a tight grip where he unknowingly pulled and tugged at it until your scalp stung, only to push you further down his length without any regard for your airway.

You didn’t mind it one bit, letting him use you exactly how he needed to, the tears streaming down your cheeks simply an automatic response to you gagging on his cock and not in any way emotional.

Will had been quiet all week, and short whenever he did speak, so finally watching him snap and give into some form of release from his torment was something you were more than fine being a participant in.

Your jaw was tired, but it didn’t matter, letting it hang as slack as your instincts would allow so he could fuck your mouth, the head of his cock ramming into the back of your throat repeatedly while you focused on trying to get air to your lungs.

The blond fuzz on his thighs was a soft contrast to how your nails clawed at his flesh that covered hard muscle, his toned quads flexing as he thrusted back and forth wildly against your face, and no matter how many red scratches would be left in his skin, he never relented.

You tried hard to get a glimpse of him, desperate to see the expression on his face as he sought what he needed to feel better, but it was useless, your face being shoved back against his groin in a pace too fast to look up with your nose buried in his wheat-coloured pubes, and even if he had granted you a more languid tempo, your sight was completely blurred by the tears that welled again as soon as some fell.

In this moment you were nothing more to him than a hole to fill.

Not his wife or his partner, the person who had his trust, his love and respect for you gone with the rest of his inhibitions, and it fucking thrilled you.

It wasn't rare that you would fuck each other roughly, and no matter how primal things became the undertone of love was always present, but something darker loomed in his treatment of you now and it seemed to awaken something in you.

It was no surprise to feel how wet you were when you adjusted your position on the floor, shifting your legs slightly where the combination of the sting of your knees and trigger of your gag reflex made goosebumps litter your skin, moaning as loud as you were able to before it was muffled even more.

You knew it was a risk, slowly reaching down between your spread legs to swipe your fingertips through your soaked pussy as if you thought you wouldn't be caught, and you smiled despite having your mouth full when Will’s barking demand filled the room as soon as you did it.

“Don't you fucking dare!”

That attempt of a smile quickly vanished when he pulled on your hair more to angle your head back, rutting deeper and faster into you as a punishment for your selfish endeavour.

It always amazed you how attentive he was, never missing a thing even when he was in this state, his honed skills as a Delta Force Captain shining through and making you swell with pride at his ability to still be so sharp even during moments where he was blinded by both pleasure and rage.

Choking and gurgling sounded distant in your ears, your eyes closing again to spill more mascara-stained tears down your face, doing everything in your power to relax to his barrage.

Needing something to help steady you on your task and prevent yourself from acting on relieving the ache between your legs, you allowed your hands to land against his thighs again, smoothing them up slowly to his hips and around to his plump ass that flexed with his aggressive tempo, careful not to get near the gunshot wound on his left side that was still healing.

“Fuck!” he growled, somehow able to form the single word through his grunts that kept increasing in volume and intensity, a sharp hiss sucking in through his teeth as he grew closer to his goal of completion.

It became even harder to breathe for a few seconds until your instincts kicked in and your body automatically worked to swallow what was given to you, his hot, thick cum pumping down your throat, a sense of relief and gratitude coursing through you as your fingers started to ease their grip on his thighs.

You eagerly gulped it down, simultaneously wanting air and more of him, the taste and smell of him making you dizzy, and finally your whiny moans and laboured breaths exhaling through your nose became more audible.

He used you until every last shot of his load was spurt inside your mouth, his hips still thrusting to move his cock in and out, watching with satisfaction as some of it that you weren't able to get down spilled from one corner of your lips.

The way your hand loosely splayed over his lower stomach, carding through the trail of hair leading down to where your face was still buried seemed to alert him, his hand loosening its grasp on your hair as he came down, making him realize just how brutally he was treating you.

You were being picked up off the floor before you could open your bleary eyes again, feeling his large hands moving from your shoulders to cup your face, his touch gentle and caring compared to before.

“You okay?” Will asked, his thumbs wiping the black streaks off your cheeks.

You opened your eyes to see his expression scrunched with concern, his blue ones still wild as they searched your features for an answer to his question, and all you could do was manage a nod while a deranged, groggy smile dressed your lips that were still covered in spit and cum.

“I'm fine, Will,” you spoke in a weak voice, your hand clasping his wrist, giving it a rub to further let him know that what you said was true.

He sighed heavily and pulled you into his chest, his sweaty skin like fire against your cheek, his heartbeat furious in your ear.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart.”

You pulled your head away from his body, a blissful delirium still gracing you, looking up at him where you brought the tips of your fingers to his face and traced one of the lines beside his mouth.

“Don't be.”

A look of guilt and shame dressed his features, blinking away only to have you guide his face back to yours, your fingers moving to graze his bottom lip.

“Just touch me, Will. Please…”

He exhaled deeply through his nose while he nodded, his eyes still reflecting remorse and concern, but granted your wish and placed his hand between your legs.

His long fingers stroked your cunt, spreading your slick to your clit while he guided you to sit on the bed, crawling over you as you laid back into the sheets and spread yourself for him.

It was such a contrast; seeing the evidence of your struggle as your tears still stained your cheeks compared to the euphoric, content grin that decorated your lips he knew would be numb from him, and his heart clenched in his chest at knowing how much you loved him despite everything he put you through.

Inserting one, and then a second finger inside you, he worked you with expertise, massaging your g-spot while the heel of his hand hit your clit, eliciting moans and pleas from you already.

“Fuck– Will…God that feels so good–”

A sharp cry broke off whatever else you were trying to say, and Will felt your body relax before it tensed again, your hips driving down to push his fingers deeper inside you, the sheets surrounding you pulled taught as you clawed at them.

Your body was writhing beneath him with everything he did, making him a master and you his subject, his attentive nature to everything in general extending to learning every part of you.

Will hovered closer over you, his breathing turning laboured again the more he watched you succumb to his touch, and he took your nipple in his mouth, sucking and rolling his tongue around it until it turned rigid and your own breath shook as you released it from your lungs.

He pulled away, letting go of your nipple after one last hard suck, leaving a string of spit connecting your breast to his mouth that watered profusely from knowing what he was doing to you.

His focus was now completely on you, zeroing in on every sound you made, each way your body twitched and reacted to his fingers working you, how wet you were before he even laid a finger on you and how much wetter you were getting still.

You whined his name on repeat, your voice hitching whenever he hit just the right spot that edged you closer and closer, the tone you called him in growing more desperate as your praises turned to begging.

When he caught your thighs trembling, Will locked in on maintaining the exact motion that got you to this point, careful not to change pace or even the position of his fingers even slightly, watching your face contort and your mouth gape open as loud cries escaped it and you came hard on his hand. Your body arched off the bed, grinding against him as you rode out every second of your orgasm before finally collapsing back into the sheets, your heavy breaths mixed with an unhinged laugh as you brought your hand up to cover your face in disbelief.

Will smiled as he crawled up to be level with you, taking your hand in his to uncover your face, kissing the back of it multiple times before he brought his lips to yours.

His eyes were serious when he broke your kiss, his voice somewhat strained when he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered again, moving to lay more on his side where he winced, his wound still fresh enough to cause him a bit of pain. “I don’t mean to lose control like that…”

“I know you don’t. But it’s fine, I promise,” you soothed, stroking the side of his face up to his hairline that was saturated with sweat.

He set his lips together in a line, the way he was trying to believe your words clear on his face, and averted your gaze as his eyebrows rose on his forehead.

“Hey,” you called, propping yourself up on your elbow to get closer to him. “I love you, Will.”

He nodded and smiled softly, his eyes a little brighter and no longer holding evidence that he was battling with the line that blurred seeing himself as the man he wanted to be and the one he wanted to forget.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

---

Taglist:

@dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul

@glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered

@casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics @spaghettificationandpretzels

@whatever-lmaoo @steviebbboi @charethcutestory02 @daryldixonpls

[isabel3710]

@matmiraculous and I were talking about Fairly Odd Parents: A New Wish here recently and I accidentally stumbled across an AU/Fic idea that I may or may not do something with.

So here's a summary!

(Spoilers for the show ahead)

The background behind the idea is that Mat and I were talking about how Peri was not the right fairy for Dev (though I'm sure the writers have plans) given how he only just became a Godparent. We also talked about how Dev really needs someone more experienced and who will have the knowledge to help him.

So what if Wanda&Cosmo and Peri swapped kids?

Wanda and Cosmo never move the human world and therefore don't met Hazel. Peri is assigned to Hazel because Jorgen figures she would be an easy first kid for him.

Peri and Hazel have a pretty good relationship and Peri ends up being something of an older sibling and friend to her. Which is something she needs when missing her older brother. Their adventures are a mix of the same ones in cannon and ones that are completely different.

The two are just having fun together and going on little adventures. Peri also helps her a lot with adjusting to being in a new place and missing her older brother (both things he has experience with). At the same time Hazel also (a bit unknowingly) helps Peri figure out what kind of Godparent he wants to be.

A few weeks later Jorgen convinces (aka begs) Wanda and Cosmo to come out retirement and be Dev's fairy godparents after the last fairy assigned to him quit.

Dev tries to treat Wanda and Cosmo the same way he treats Peri in cannon but the two won't stand for it. They grant his wishes (as they're suppose too) but they (especially Wanda) won't let him insult or order them around.

That's not to say they are mean to Dev, they just take on a more firm and well... Parent-like approach to him. Wanda and Cosmo notice that Dev has never had much of a parental figure in his life like Timmy and are like "if his father isn't going to teach him to be a decent person, we'll do it!" Anyways, that's what's rolling around in my brain. I might write it, I might now (I got a lot of fics right now) but I think it would be fun to write little scenes or ramble about ideas I got.

I'm calling it The Fairy Swap AU

[whatswrongwithblue]

The Hunt pt. 1

Read on AO3.

Part 2. Part 3.

Summary: Alastor x Reader (reader is afab, uses she/her pronouns.) Date nights in Hell are done a little differently, especially when you're dating The Radio Demon.

Trigger warnings: Canon typical violence. Reader and Alastor in Hell for a reason. Horror with some twisted romance.

Today had been a particularly drab day.

Acid rain had been falling all afternoon and Pentagram City was shut down because of it. And you could feel yourself shutting down as well.

These bad days used to fall on you much more often. Back when life was simpler and less stimulating. When there were less options to hyper fixate on and stimulate those delightful hormones that didn’t always help you to feel happy but allowed you to . . . feel.

But today you felt that numbness creeping in; a slithering, creeping, darker cousin to boredom. You were so tired and every forced smile and polite reply aimed at the other hotel residents drained your battery little by little by little by little . . . .

You were on your fifth cup of coffee that afternoon, the bitter caffeinated beverage the only thing left that seemed to cause any kind of chemical spark in your dead gray matter, but unknowingly, you had stopped sipping it several minutes ago. Rather, you were just mindlessly staring down into it, watching the little tendrils of separated creamer swirl around the top. At least it was far more interesting than anything else going on in the lobby.

“Are we having a bit of a . . . down day?” Alastor’s voice said remarkably close to your ear and you jumped, turning to find him bent over at his waist, his head right next to yours.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, turning away from him.

He had pampered and fussed over you too many times on days like these, even when – no, especially when they became so bad you couldn’t get out of bed. But things were different now; since his return to Hell, Alastor was busier than ever and you didn’t want to bother him. The guilt would be worse than the emptiness you were currently struggling with.

“I think not,” came his sing-song reply and you shut your eyes against the enthusiasm you heard in his tone.

“Don’t I look fine?” you challenged and when he stood up straighter, his smile pinching just a little at the corners, you heard how snippy you sounded with him and sighed. There was the damnable guilt you had been trying to avoid.

“You look beautiful as always, darling,” came his quick reply. “I just thought you could use a little cheering up.”

He leaned back in, whispering conspiratorial into your ear now. “I was hoping you would join me . . . on a date . . .” His eyes glowed as he let his words sink in. “But if you’d rather sit in here and sulk the rest of the night, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Like . . . a date, date?” you asked, feeling a little bit of the weight leaving your chest as hope bloomed in you.

“Precisely.” His smile stretched ear to ear. “There is someone I need to collect a debt on and the weather tonight seems just perfect for such an occasion. I would more than welcome your company.”

You felt your first genuine smile of the day grace your features, nearly matching the wickedness of Alastor’s own features, and that little spark you had felt turned into an entire flood of dopamine.

“Where to?” you asked and Alastor took your head, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, before leading you out the front doors.

____

The prey dragged itself up the stairs, stumbling on every other step and grasping the handrail for balance as he went. Although the rainstorm had kept him from the bars that night, it hadn’t kept him from his personal stache of liquor and in his lonely anger, he had downed several gin and tonics before his stomach began to protest and he had passed out in his armchair. He’d woken up a few minutes ago, his bladder protesting the diuretic effects of the booze. By some miracle he had made it to his downstairs bathroom to relieve himself and then decided it was time to crawl into bed.

He made it to the top of the landing after a considerable struggle with the staircase and almost forgot to the turn the lights off behind him. Fumbling with the switch, he just happened to glance down the stairs as the lights flickered out of existence.

The prey blinked in the darkness, trying to adjust his eyes, as he thought he saw a strange shadow at the bottom of the stairs.

He was sure he was alone in the house and he couldn’t quite be sure of what he was seeing, so he flipped the lights back on.

Nothing.

Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, he turned the lights back off.

And there it was again.

A shadow. Taller and definitely there.

Feeling his heart begin to race, the prey flipped the lights on, certain he wasn’t imagining it this time but as the staircase became illuminated once more, the shadow was gone.

He had perhaps had too much to drink.

One last time, he flipped the switch, inviting the darkness back in, and this time when the shadow came back, the prey swore there were faint glowing green eyes and the hint of a smile playing across its features.

And was it a little closer this time? He had sworn it was at the bottom of the stairs but now it seemed to be a few steps up.

“Now that’s enough of that!” the prey shouted and flipped on the lights.

He breathed a sigh of relief when once more, there was nothing.

Maybe it was best to sleep with the lights on tonight, just to be certain.

The prey turned away from the stairs, leaving the switch flipped in the on position, and came chest to chest with The Radio Demon.

“Good evening, Daniel,” Alastor said, smiling wider as the prey’s face turned several shades whiter. “I see you’ve changed residences.”

“Hey there, Al’ . . . I-I mean, Alastor . . . sir. M-Mr. Radio D-demon,” the prey stuttered, stumbling backwards and just barely catching himself on the banister. “You uh . . . you like my new digs, huh? Paid a pretty penny for it but you know, it’ll be good for business.”

Alastor remained at the top of the stairs, watching his prey make its slow decent down and away from him.

“And who’s business would that be? Certainly not mine, I don’t deal in real estate after all.”

“You know, ha, it’s funny you would say that because I’ve been meaning to talk to you- ”

“You made a mistake, Daniel,” Alastor told his prey, all the politeness leaving his tone, although his smile remained.

The prey swallowed audibly.

“Did you really think going to Zestial, of all demons, would save you from our deal?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re . . . talking abou- ”

“You see, Daniel, Zestial and I may not necessarily be friends, but we are colleagues. And we have an understanding. A certain level of respect for each other, if you will.” Alastor narrowed his eyes and his voice turned cold as ice. “And neither of us like having another Overlord’s leftovers.”

Daniel turned and fled, racing down the rest of the steps with a grace that only adrenaline could provide in such a state of inebriation, though he did fumble quite a bit with the locks of the front doors.

Alastor let his prey make it out the front door before he went in pursuit, though he let his deep laughter follow Daniel the whole way down, enjoying the sweet tangy smell of his fear as it spiked at the sound.

In his panic, the prey forgot all about the inclement weather and dashed thoughtlessly out into the rainstorm and ran down the deserted street. It took a minute for the effects to kick in but eventually he started to feel the itching on his skin and then the burning set in. The prey stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, beneath a streetlamp, and watched as the skin on his hands began to turn red and break out in a terrible heat rash.

With a sob, he dashed under an overhang of a nearby business and shook at the doorhandle, but it wouldn’t budge. He thought about breaking the window to get inside but then he heard that laughter again and the streetlights above flickered and then went out, one by one.

Looking down the street, he watched as The Radio Demon stepped out into view, his antlers now wide and pointed above his silhouette, and turned his head down the street, looking in his prey’s direction.

A smell wafted off of him, even from this great distance. A dank, swampy, animalistic smell. The musk filled the prey’s nostrils and burned his sinuses, and he knew it was the smell of a predator about to pounce.

“That’s alright, Daniel, go ahead and run. Please do.”

To the prey’s horror, Alastor began walking quickly down the sidewalk, completely unaffected by the burning rain.  His limbs and entire body stretched out and elongated with every step, closing the distance between them faster than previously possible, until Alastor was a towering demonic presence chasing down the street after him.

“I like my meals warmed up!” he shouted, and the prey screamed as he took off again.

It was either face the rain or be eaten and the prey chose the rain as it sprinted down the street, screaming and crying out for help but not a light flickered on in the buildings as he passed them.

Eventually the burning became unbearable and the prey darted blindly into the nearest alleyway, praying to Roo herself that there would be some shelter to hide in and protect him from the rain.

And there it was, a small overhang by a bar’s backdoor, with a conveniently placed dumpster to hide next to that blocked his view of the street.

That was where the prey found you, standing innocently by the door, shielded from the rain, and he didn’t question why you would be there on a night like this. He only fell at your feet, clinging to your legs and shaking, his hands and face now beginning to blister, his tears hot and stinging his flesh as they fell down his cheeks.

“Please! Please, help me! Let me in! Please! He’s going to eat me, please!”

“Who is going to eat you?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head as you considered the pathetic demon at your feet.

“Alastor. Th-the Radio Demon. He . . . he . . .” the prey fumbled for words, his sentence trailing off as he risked peaking up over the top of the dumpster and seeing nothing but an empty street at the end of the alleyway.

“Oh, right. Him,” you said, nodding. “Well, that’s his thing, isn’t it? Going after demons that try and break their deals. Especially ones like you, who preyed after helpless young women when he was alive. Isn’t that right . . . Daniel?”

The prey’s breath caught in his throat as he glanced over his shoulder at you, a new kind of fear lighting his eyes.

“Who . . . who are you?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“That’s not important,” you scoffed. “Who was the girl you raped and left for dead in the park on the night of your 18th birthday? Or the sex workers you then tortured and killed and left their bodies out in the desert? Do you even remember their names? Do you know how many family members are still looking for their daughters, sisters, mothers?”

“I don’t . . . I didn’t . . .” he stammered, getting to his feet now.

“You did. No use denying it now, Daniel. Not when Alastor and I are so . . . very . . . hungry.”

A crackling noise, like the sound of several joints popping at once filled the air, and the prey looked up and up and up as he saw Alastor’s gigantic form peeling away from the darkened side of the building, turning from nothing but shadow into a very corporeal and deadly form before his very eyes.

Behind him, you shoved at his back, forcing him to fall onto his knees into a puddle of acid rain.

Then you stepped out from under the cover of the overhang, letting the rain soak your hair and clothes, and the prey looked up at you with renewed horror as he realized the acid water had no effect on you either.

“Please,” he whimpered and then began to scream as Alastor bent over and lifted him into the air.

You watched as the prey’s tiny body was lifted higher and higher until the rain and the shadows hid him mostly from view but you could still hear him screaming. Then there was a crunching noise and a wet sound, followed by a thin stream of blood that fell from the sky.

The screaming continued.

“This will be quite unpleasant until it’s over,” Alastor’s voice said from high above you. “But my darling companion does love the taste of demon heart.”

Another sound of stretching and tearing and then you saw it; the warm mass of your meal falling towards you, and you reached up and caught it with skilled precision.

With the prey’s heart now in your grasp, you brought it to your lips and took an eager bite, never minding the blood that ran down your forearms and coated your lower face.

The screaming above you came to a sudden halt with the sound of one final loud crunch and just as you were taking the last bites of your own meal, Alastor was standing before you.

His antlers were still larger than usual, their six points gleaming beautifully in the dim light of the alley, as rain ran down them in rivulets, soaking the red and black hair beneath them.

Alastor gave you a loving smile as you swallowed the last bit of heart.

“Feeling better, my love?” he asked.

“Much,” you said with a satisfied sigh. “Thank you.”

He reached a hand out, wiping away a bit of blood from the side of your mouth with his thumb, though he had hardly succeeded in getting it all.

“You always look positively stunning like this,” he said as he brought his bloody thumb to his mouth and gave it an appreciative suck.

And there in the rain and the dark, you and your lover shared a private and tender kiss, the perfect ending to a perfect date.

Tag list for part 2? It will be smutty.