#X male reader

[carnalcrows]

ME 'N THE DEVIL - THE SALESMAN

pairing: salesman x bottom male reader

synopsis: A story of obsession and longing, where one man's desperate need for love traps another in a web of fear, desire, and the haunting promise of safety that feels anything but safe.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, kidnapping, drugging, blood, reader's boyfriend is an abusive bitch, death, dubcon, forced submission, breading, cream pie, dead dove do not eat.

word count: 4.1k

A/N: requested by 🥀 anon (link). i don't think i did enough justice to this amazing prompt sksksjsj

The bar was nearly empty that night—just how you preferred it. The soft hum of the jukebox played a tired old rock ballad, the kind that felt heavy with nostalgia, though you couldn’t place why. The faint clink of glassware punctuated the quiet, as the bartender cleaned glasses with the same rhythmic monotony they’d perfected over years.

You sat hunched over the counter, fingers curling loosely around your glass of whiskey. The amber liquid reflected the dim, golden glow of the bar lights, casting distorted shadows against the wood.

“And then he…” You trailed off, swallowing against the lump rising in your throat. You stared into the glass, as though the answer to your pain might be hiding somewhere in the depths of the drink. “He called me a waste of space.”

The words hung in the air, raw and shameful. Your voice wavered, and you fought the urge to cry.

“Like I don’t already feel like one most days,” you mumbled, your lips pressing into a bitter line.

The bartender paused their wiping to nod, their expression one of quiet sympathy. But the gesture felt empty, rehearsed even. They probably heard stories like yours a hundred times a week—drunken tales of bad lovers, broken hearts, and bruised egos. Still, you pressed on.

“He doesn’t just yell,” you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Sometimes… he hits me. But he always says he’s sorry after, and I…” A hollow, bitter laugh escaped you, cutting through the thick air. “I keep forgiving him. Like a goddamn idiot.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you and the bartender. Their eyes flicked to the clock, their discomfort palpable. You couldn’t blame them. Who wanted to hear a stranger’s misery, especially one they couldn’t fix?

“Sounds like he doesn’t deserve you.”

The voice startled you—smooth, confident, and close enough to make you stiffen. It came from your left.

You turned your head, blinking at the man who had somehow slipped onto the stool beside you without you noticing. He was striking, his sharp features framed by slicked-back hair that glinted faintly under the dim bar lights. His suit was tailored to perfection, charcoal gray with subtle pinstripes that hinted at wealth and precision. But it was his eyes that caught you most. They were piercing, their intensity almost predatory, like they saw right through you.

“Excuse me?” you asked, your surprise laced with suspicion.

The man smiled, and it was the kind of smile that could melt the edges of even the hardest heart. It was warm, practiced, and just shy of charming.

“You deserve better,” he said, his tone soft but sure. “That much is obvious.”

You frowned, instinctively pulling back a little. The comment was unexpected, and you didn’t know how to take it. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet.” He leaned back slightly, casual and self-assured, like he belonged in every space he entered. “But I couldn’t help overhearing. You deserve better than what you’re settling for.”

The directness of his words left you flustered. You hesitated, unsure whether to be defensive or grateful.

“You don’t even know me,” you muttered, a hint of challenge in your tone.

He tilted his head, his gaze never leaving yours. “Don’t need to. Some things are obvious.”

You stared at him for a moment longer, searching for some sign of an ulterior motive. But his face betrayed nothing except an odd mix of calm and curiosity. Finally, you turned back to your drink, muttering under your breath, “Bold of you to assume you know my life.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m wrong,” he countered smoothly.

The corners of your mouth twitched despite yourself.

The next time you saw him, you were back at the bar, nursing yet another drink after another brutal argument with your boyfriend. The whiskey burned less this time, your tolerance rising in step with your misery.

You’d been thinking about the man from the other night more than you cared to admit—his sharp wit, his confidence, the way his presence had made you feel seen in a way that was both comforting and unnerving.

When he appeared again, sliding onto the stool beside you like he belonged there, your heart skipped a beat.

“Rough day?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting, as if you were old friends.

“Something like that,” you muttered, your head low. You didn’t want to spill your heart out again—not tonight.

But he had a way of drawing you out. His questions were easy, his comments sharp but never cutting. Before you knew it, you were talking again—about nothing and everything. About the little annoyances of your day and the bigger cracks threatening to break you apart.

He listened, really listened, and offered thoughts that were insightful without being overbearing. He even made you laugh—a genuine laugh, something you hadn’t done in weeks.

By the time you realized how much time had passed, the bar was closing, and the two of you were walking out together.

The air outside was crisp, carrying the faint smell of rain. He walked you to your car, his presence steady and reassuring beside you.

“You know,” he said as you reached your door, his voice lower now, almost intimate, “you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

You looked at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unrelenting, and for a moment, you felt like he was seeing parts of you you’d tried to hide even from yourself.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, unsure how else to respond.

As you climbed into your car, you caught the way he looked at you through the window—like you were something precious, something he couldn’t quite have but desperately wanted.

The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. And for a fleeting moment, you wondered what it might be like to let him have you.

The man couldn’t get you out of his head. You consumed him, haunted his thoughts, and stirred something primal in him. But there was one obstacle standing in his way: your sorry excuse of a boyfriend.

He watched from the shadows, studying the man who dared to hurt you. The bruises you tried to hide, the way your voice cracked when you spoke of him—it was enough to fuel The man’s resolve.

The next time he saw you at the bar, he smiled warmly and ordered you another drink. You didn’t notice the way his hand lingered over your glass for just a moment too long, or how the edges of your vision began to blur shortly after you finished it.

When you woke, you were in a dark room. The smell of dust and old wood filled your nostrils, and the faint sound of classical music played from a record player in the corner.

Your wrists were tied to the arms of a chair, the rope biting into your skin. Across from you, your boyfriend sat in a similar chair, thrashing and screaming into the gag that muffled his words.

“What the hell—?” you began, your voice trembling.

“Good evening.”

The man stepped into view, his sharp grin cutting through the dim light. He was impeccably dressed, as always, his hands clasped behind his back.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, panic rising in your chest.

“It’s simple,” he said, his tone calm. “You’re going to play a game.”

On the table between you and your boyfriend sat a revolver, its gleaming barrel a stark contrast to the grimy room.

“Russian roulette,” The man explained, picking up the gun and spinning the cylinder with practiced ease. “One of you walks out of here. The other… doesn’t.”

Your boyfriend screamed behind his gag, his eyes wild with terror. You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “No! I won’t do it!”

“Oh, but you will,” The man said, his smile never wavering. “Because you want to live. And deep down, a part of you wants him to pay for what he’s done to you.”

The man placed the revolver on the table, spinning the cylinder with a flick of his wrist. The ominous cl-click of the mechanism echoed in the room, setting your teeth on edge. He looked between you and your boyfriend, his grin widening as if he relished your fear.

“Let’s begin,” he said, picking up the gun. His movements were deliberate, almost casual, as if this were no more than a game of cards.

“You’re not rolling the barrel?” you questioned in shock, staring into his eyes, which seemed devoid of any emotion.

“What’s the fun in that?” he merely grinned, while adjusting his cufflinks.

He pointed the revolver at you first.

Click.

The sound was deafening, despite the empty chamber. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs as you stared down the barrel of the gun.

The man chuckled softly, as if entertained by the way your shoulders heaved with each shaky breath. “Nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

He turned the gun toward your boyfriend.

Click.

Your boyfriend thrashed in his chair, muffled cries spilling through the gag as he shook his head violently. You could feel his terror radiating across the small room, mingling with your own.

“I’d almost feel bad for him if he wasn’t such a waste,” The man mused, spinning the cylinder again with deliberate slowness. The sound of the metal grinding against itself sent a chill through your entire body.

The gun swung back to you.

Click.

You flinched, tears spilling down your cheeks as your vision blurred. Your mind screamed at you to move, to do something, but you were frozen, your body paralyzed by fear.

The man hummed a classical tune softly under his breath, tapping the side of the gun like he was debating his next move. His eyes flicked between you and your boyfriend, finally landing on the latter.

“Let’s see if he’s feeling lucky.”

He raised the gun again, pointing it between your boyfriend’s wide, bloodshot eyes.

Click.

Your boyfriend screamed into the gag, thrashing so violently that the chair scraped against the floor. Sweat dripped down his face as his muffled cries turned into guttural, animalistic wails of desperation.

The man sighed, feigning disappointment. “Oh, the suspense is killing me,” he said, the grin on his face making it clear that he was enjoying every second.

The revolver spun again, slower this time. You heard every metallic grind as it came to a stop, and your stomach lurched.

This time, the barrel swung back to you. The man pressed the gun against your cheek, the cold metal biting into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re terrified,” he whispered, his voice low and intimate, like a lover’s confession.

Click.

You gasped audibly, your eyes darting to his. He stared back at you with a manic glint, his grin splitting wider as though your anguish was his favorite song.

Without warning, he turned the gun back to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend screamed, shaking his head violently, tears streaming down his face. He made a muffled plea through the gag, words you couldn’t make out but understood well enough: he was begging.

The man tilted his head, feigning consideration. “I wonder what your last thought is right now. Regret? Fear? Or maybe it’s anger… at yourself for being such a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

He pulled the trigger.

BANG!

The sound of the gunshot ripped through the room, leaving your ears ringing. Blood sprayed across the table and onto your face in hot, sticky droplets. Your boyfriend’s head snapped back violently before slumping forward, the rope keeping his body upright as blood poured from the jagged hole in his forehead. His body twitched once, then fell still.

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the acrid smell of gunpowder, burning into your nostrils. Your stomach churned as you stared at the lifeless shell of the man who had once called you his.

You should’ve felt horror, revulsion, or even guilt. But somewhere deep down, a small, twisted part of you felt… relief. Relief that it was finally over, that he couldn’t hurt you anymore.

The man stepped closer, crouching in front of you and gently brushing a blood-spattered lock of hair from your face. His touch was uncomfortably tender, a stark contrast to the carnage around you.

“You’re free now,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You stared at him in shock, your mind a haze of terror and conflicting emotions.

Before you could process what had happened, darkness crept in once more.

When you woke, it was to the dim light of dawn filtering through your curtains, casting soft, golden rays across your room. Everything felt disjointed—your body ached in places you couldn’t explain, and your mind was swimming in a haze of fragmented memories. For a few blissful seconds, you thought it was just a nightmare, a grotesque figment of your imagination brought on by too much alcohol and too little sleep.

But then you noticed the faint metallic scent still lingering in the air.

Sitting up, you looked down at yourself. Your clothes were rumpled and clung uncomfortably to your skin, but it was the faint smudge of red near your collar that made your stomach drop. You didn’t want to believe it. You stumbled to your feet, each step heavy with dread as you made your way to the laundry hamper.

And there it was—a bloodstained shirt.

The sight hit you like a punch to the gut, your breath hitching as the reality of it all came crashing down. It wasn’t a nightmare. It had happened. The screaming, the gunshots, the blood—it was all real.

You threw the shirt into the deepest corner of the hamper and slammed the lid shut, as though that could contain the memories clawing their way to the surface.

For days, you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t function. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw flashes of it: his twisted grin, the spray of blood, your boyfriend’s lifeless body slumping forward. Guilt and relief warred within you, an impossible combination that left you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, you realized you had to do something. You couldn’t keep drowning in your own mind. So, you decided to rebuild.

You poured what little savings you had into opening a small bakery, a cozy place tucked into a quiet corner of town. It became your sanctuary, a space where you could channel your pain into something productive. Kneading dough, shaping pastries, and watching loaves rise in the oven—it was simple, grounding work that gave you a sense of control when everything else felt so chaotic.

The bakery quickly became a modest success. Locals loved the fresh bread and the warm, inviting atmosphere you worked so hard to create. For a while, you almost believed you could have a normal life again.

But then he walked in.

It was an ordinary afternoon. The scent of freshly baked sourdough filled the air, and sunlight streamed through the shop’s front windows, casting a warm glow across the wooden countertops. You were arranging a tray of croissants when the bell above the door jingled.

Looking up, your heart stopped.

There he was, standing in the doorway as if he belonged there, his sharp features and piercing eyes unmistakable. He was dressed as impeccably as ever, his suit perfectly tailored and his smile disarmingly casual.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” he said, approaching the counter with an air of ease that made your skin crawl.

Your hands trembled as you wiped them on your apron, trying to steady yourself. “What… what are you doing here?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away, instead glancing around the shop with an almost appreciative expression. “Just passing through,” he said finally, as if that explained anything. He slid a few bills across the counter. “A few loaves of sourdough.”

Your fingers fumbled as you grabbed some fresh loaves and wrapped them in parchment paper, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest you were sure he could hear it. You avoided his gaze, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move.

When you handed him the loaf, your hands brushed for the briefest moment, and you pulled back like you’d been burned. His smile widened, his eyes glinting with something dark and unreadable.

“Thanks,” he said, his tone light and polite, as though this were just a normal interaction.

He turned and walked out without another word, the bell jingling softly in his wake.

As you closed shop for the evening, flipping the "OPEN" sign to "CLOSED," a deep sigh escaped your lips, the weight of the day melting off your shoulders. It had been one of those relentlessly busy days where time blurred—an endless parade of smiling customers asking for pastries, loaves, and the occasional custom order that had you juggling more than your two hands should allow. The familiar ache in your back and flour dusting your sleeves were reminders of how hard you’d worked. But as the quiet settled in, so did a sense of peace.

For once, your mind wasn’t completely consumed by thoughts of him. It was a rare reprieve, the memories and fears receding like the tide, leaving you with something close to calm. You held onto that feeling tightly, as though letting it slip away might invite the darkness back.

After locking the door and slipping the keys into your pocket, you stood on the sidewalk for a moment, staring at the fading sunlight painting the horizon in soft hues of orange and pink. The thought of going straight home to your empty apartment felt suffocating—too quiet, too lonely, too much room for your thoughts to spiral.

A gentle breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the faint scent of grass and distant flowers, and an idea bloomed in your mind. The park. It had been weeks since you’d allowed yourself the luxury of just… being. You needed the fresh air, the open space, the sounds of the world moving on around you. Maybe, just for a little while, you could convince yourself that everything was normal.

And then you saw him.

He stood on the sidewalk, holding the bread that he had bought from you for a moment before deliberately letting them fall to the ground. Then, with calculated cruelty, he ground it under his heel, the parchment paper tearing and the loaves crumbling into pieces. A group of homeless people nearby looked on, their gazes hungry and desperate, but he didn’t so much as glance at them.

Instead, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

That grin spread across his face again, wide and manic, his teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun. It wasn’t a smile of kindness or humor—it was a promise. A reminder.

Your stomach twisted, and you stumbled back, your breathing ragged. He knew exactly what he was doing, and the message was clear: you weren’t free of him.

Not yet.

That night, you awoke with a start, your senses assaulted by the soft, flickering glow of candlelight. Shadows danced along the walls, their movements hypnotic and eerie, the faint scent of wax and smoke filling the air. Your heart pounded as you realized you weren’t in your bed. The room was unfamiliar—opulent, in a hauntingly old-fashioned way. The furniture was dark wood, the drapes heavy and velvet, the atmosphere suffocatingly intimate.

And then you saw him.

He was standing over you, his silhouette bathed in the golden light of the candles. His suit was pristine as always, his tie slightly loosened, and his sharp features softened just enough to be disarming. But it was his eyes that held you captive, their intensity pinning you in place like prey caught in a predator’s gaze.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and velvety, carrying a dangerous edge of satisfaction. He crouched beside the bed, his movements deliberate and smooth, his presence overwhelming. “Good. I was starting to think you’d sleep through the best part.”

Your breath hitched as his hand came up to your face, his fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that felt utterly at odds with the situation. His touch was cold, yet it left a trail of fire in its wake, and you couldn’t help but flinch.

“You can’t run from me,” he murmured, his tone soft but laced with an unyielding certainty. “I’ve been patient. I’ve given you space. But you belong to me, and it’s time you understood that.”

Tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. You hated how vulnerable you felt, how powerless you were under his gaze. His thumb brushed a tear away, his touch almost reverent, and he smiled—a soft, bittersweet smile that only made you feel more trapped.

“I adore you,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Every moment, every thought, it’s all been for you. Don’t you see? I’ve done everything for you. And now, you’re mine.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could process what was happening, his lips were on yours. The kiss was messy, desperate, and all-consuming, like he was trying to claim every part of you at once. His hands cradled your face, his grip firm but not painful, as if he were afraid you might disappear if he let go.

You hated yourself for it, but you kissed him back. Your body betrayed you, a spark igniting deep within you that you couldn’t extinguish. His passion was intoxicating, pulling you under like a riptide, and for a moment, you forgot everything else—your fear, your anger, your confusion.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was hot against your skin, his forehead resting against yours. “You’ll be safe with me,” he murmured, his voice heavy with conviction. “Forever.”

His words sent a chill through you, not because you doubted him, but because you believed him. There was no escaping him—not his obsession, not his control, not the twisted connection that bound you to him.

Deep down, in the parts of yourself you didn’t want to acknowledge, you knew he was right.

His hands slowly trailed down to the hem of your pants, tugging them off. The cool breeze hit your thighs, forming goosebumps along the soft skin– making you shiver with a mix of delight and fear.

He pressed forehead, slowly inching down to your lips, pulling you in once more, as he lifted you in his arms completely.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he cooed whilst sliding your boxers down, revealing your throbbing erection.

You whimpered at the praise as he brought his hand to your chin to make you face him. His eyes– which previously felt devoid of having any human emotion, were now different. You couldn’t place exactly what it was.

As he pulled you into another searing kiss, one of his fingers prodded at your exposed hole, wet with lube. You yelped at the sudden intrusion, only to be silenced with another kiss.

He slowly pushed his finger in, followed by another, and then another. Three digits were slowly pumping in and out of you, as you held on to the man’s already crumpled shirt for some sense of balance.

When he deemed that you had been prepped enough, he slowly removed his fingers, and replaced them with his hardened length (you hadn't noticed him taking his pants off–oh well).

He pushed the tip in, making you throw your head back, and an almost pornographic moan leaving your lips.

The man let out a low groan,you were so tight that it seemed like your hole was sucking him in. When he bottomed out, you took few deeps breaths, but before you could say anything, he pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in.

Your eyes went to the back of your head, jaw going slack. His hands were holding your legs up in such an angle that he was hitting your prostate with every single thrust.

Your hole clenched around his length, almost making it hard for him to move– but he seemed to manage. He fucked into with reckless abandon, marvelling at your pretty sounds– they were angelic to his ears.

Soon, you felt your orgasm consuming you like a raging waterfall; but the man wasn’t finished. He rammed into you even harder than before, the overstimulation making your brain go fuzzy.

Eventually, his thrusts stuttered, and he spilled his load into you– painting your insides a pearlescent white.

You huffed, feeling filled to the brim as he slowly placed you back onto the bed. The exhaustion made sleep consume you once more.

“You’re mine now, little dove– and I’m never letting you go.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[starboye]

weird!reader who just walks in the bathroom while rafe is showering and just sits on the counter scrolling through tik tok "what are you doing" rafe asks pulling back the shower curtain to look at you laughing at your phone

"i missed you" you pouted before showing him a picture of charlie and pim from smiley friends "this is so literally us" before going back to scrolling "well then i wanna be the purple one" rafe rolls his eyes going back to washing "but im pim" you retort pulling back the curtain.

"woah privacy much" rafe tries to cover his naked body "rafe please ive seen literally every inch of you, but no you can be charlie" you said "well to bad i chose him first so cry about it" rafe taunts you "watch your back rafe cameron watch your back" you say stepping back and out of the bathroom

[sleep-0-deprived]

Sirens touch~! (Kyle Garrick x male siren reader) 𓊝

WC:.2.1K

Tags: pwlp, anal sex, sex on a boat, monster x human, pheromones used as drugs, fish anatomy mentioned, bottom male reader, seduction themes, siren songs, handjobs, neck biting, blood mentioned 𓇼

A/N: this one is for @creepy141dollie hope Y’ like it, forgive if M’ descriptions of sirens are inaccurate, this was jus my thought process <33

Taglist: @kimisbunny @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @yyuinaa @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives @littlelilithsposts

𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟𓆝𓆟𓆝

The air was fogged over and cold- rigidly so, you could almost taste the salt in the air when you breathed in the mist. Kyle wasn’t happy about this in the slightest, the moment price caught wind of makarov supposedly hiding somewhere across the sea, he had the whole task force on a ship on the ocean waters, that included Gaz too. Gaz walked around on the deck, he’d peek his head over the rails and stare into the nearly black abyss of water— god he could only imagine how cold that water must’ve been.

His eyes slowly widen when he sees something beneath the sheets of liquid, it was probably just a dumb fish swimming around. Garrick wasn’t made for the waters nor did he like them, sea sick was the only thing he ever got from it— and was that a person laying on that rock?…oh god the sea must be getting to him.

“I don’t see how sailors manage”

Gaz diverts his gaze to the passing soap, walking by and across the ship watching the other end- like what he was supposed to be doing but something felt off he couldn’t explain it, it all felt weird like bugs churning around in his stomach. He’d just cut it down to the waves giving him motion sickness.

“Are you gonna make it there gaz?”

He nearly jumps when ghost sneaks up on him standing behind him with his mask on letting his gaze pierce through the other male.

“You shouldn’t be so damn quiet- you’re gonna give someone a heart attack these days”

“Relax, I was just gonna ask if ye wanted to swap tasks- ye go to the lower deck N’ keep an eye out”

The man’s British accent creeping through his words only making Gaz sigh and nod, making his way down to the empty deck, his body felt a reaction the closer he got to the waters almost like something compelling him forwards. When the rock he had seen earlier came into view he could’ve sworn he saw a man with H/C hair laying there with a deep blue webbed ear. Before he knew it he felt his chest ache at that sight- why did he feel so much need over a man that probably was a figment of his lonesome imagination.

He leans against the rails, blinking once and frowning when he sees nothing on the rock, he almost feels sadness as the disappearance but before he can mourns it a hand is placed up on the ship from the loading area a few feet from him.

“Who’s there?!”

His voice rings empty in the fog, you slip your way up onto the deck while laying sprawled with a little grin. Tilting your head over almost like a curious cat— you weren’t used to not having your tail but you’d make having legs work. Gaz was practically lovestruck standing in his military gear and yet he felt just as defenseless as a common man before a gun.

“Aren’t you just a mean one?”

Your voice was angelic and he knew that you knew that, the way you slithered up on the deck like some serpent ready for its mean had him in a state of pure lust looking at you— Gaz was a weak man and the years of solitude without touch only made him weaker. Your prime prey, you liked a sweet man who was good at heart but had desperation— you could feed off the lust in his eyes alone.

Gaz started approaching you almost in a trance but you haven’t even used your song on him yet, this was pure free will.

“What the hell are you— a damn talking fish?”

“I’m not a damn fish— I’ll have you know I’m a siren”

You hiss your words at him growing irritated with it all, reaching your hand out to grasp hold of the man and pull him down with you having him beneath you on the deck. your body nude and cold from the see, your cock pressed flat down on your thighs while you click your tongue slowly tracing your cold fingers over his skin, humming your own siren song.

“Fuck, what the hell are you doing”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me, everyone wants me.”

Your hands grip his shoulders speaking statements not questions, your cock was stiffening up when his bulge pressed to your plush cheeks almost giving it a friendly greeting making you push back down against his clothed member, Gaz’s hands roam down grabbing your hips instinctively gripping at the flesh with vigor while he stares up at you in a glossy eyed trance watching how your hands slid off his shoulder down his vest and to his cargo pants, pulling them down with a thud when you undo his tack belt letting it fall on the deck.

Your nails were sharp and pointed leaving chills on his thighs when your nails graze over the tip of his cock having it all wet and coated in pre cum when you finally get it out of his boxers. Your eyes narrow slightly glowing under the dim fog of the late noon sky, the ship rocking back and forth against the waves having Gaz feeling completely under your spell when you hum against his ear and press your lips to the side of his neck.

“God you’re…”

He wanted to say so many things in that moment but his lips quivered and stopped, all men acted that way— you couldn’t count the number of sailors who uttered those exact words to you. Gaz felt different you didn’t want to lure him into a seductive demise, you actually wanted him all for yourself.

“I already knoww~”

you hush him silently with your lips pressed to his Adam’s apple rubbing your sharp teeth to the flesh feeling tempted to just take a bite out of him. Your hand plays with his cock stroking the base and rubbing your thumb flush against the under side of his tip, right where you knew it was most sensitive.

“O-h fuck you’re good at this”

Kyle’s moan comes out strangled like a half laugh when he takes a gulp for the first time in his military years feeling nervous by something that looks so frail, your skin practically glowed sticky from the salt in the sea having your damp body in his lap feeing your bare ass on his thighs making his half lidded eyes just stare at it, he only looks away when he feels the sharp pain in his neck— you just bit him?

“Mhm, you just taste good enough to eat”

“Oh fuuck”

His groan just make you smile having his blood over your teeth like a fresh candy coating making your slit pupils dilate, licking up the blood off his neck leaving him with the mark of a siren when you aim his cock between your wet cheeks, grinning at his expression when his eyes clamp shut from the cold feel of your skin pressing to his manhood. You rock your hips back and forth letting go of his cock and reaching up to his jaw and gripping it tight while you lay hunched over him pressing your bitter and blue lips to his mouth kissing him- making him taste his blood off your tongue while he lays on his back on the deck.

“You want this so bad don’t you?”

“…yes…”

He mumbles mindlessly under you just staring you blankly in the eyes, his lips sloppily responding to yours with your cock standing barely stiff leaning a small pearl of pre cum with your blue webbed ears looking almost like a fin when they flick back and forth in satisfaction. His cock head rubbing between your cheeks and all up and down your crack rubbing against your twitchy ring of muscles.

“Tell me you want inside me- tell me now”

“…I want you, I wanna be inside you so bad”

Your mouth nibbles at his neck some more littering it in red marks having blood smears on his skin while his hips buck up under you making you let go of his jaw when he hisses from how your nails dug into his skin. Gaz presses into you slowly pushing his way inside of your vice, being a siren producing pheromones and natural lubricant around your rim, your holes weee designed to take— you were a being of lust- a Adonis of sex in every way but the name.

“Fuckin, please-“

If it wasn’t for how desperate Gaz was in this moment he may have passed out of humiliation, he hated the way his voice cracked when he begged for you sitting desperate with his cock half inside you prodding its way into the bunny tavern trying to spread and spear you open on his dick, you sit in his lap having your mouth latched on his feeling his moans muffled by your tongue when you bite on his bottom lip leaving little drops of blood mixing into the shared spit.

“Think you may be the biggest man I’ve taken in a very long time sailor”

You lift your hips up and slowly lower them back down on him while you let your hand find its way to his shoulders digging your nails through his gear and clawing a hole in the back of his shirt leaving marks on his rich skin. Your rim milks out the pre cum from his mushroomed head having his hands trembling on your hips while he pushes his spit down your throat.

“I’m not a damn sailor— I’m a captain”

His words come out strangled beneath you when he pulls his lips, tearing them away only to gasp for air. Your nails dig harder letting out soft moans when his cock rubs your prostate just right making you feel warm shrills up your spine having you feeling in a state of euphoria when you ride the man.

Your eyes creep back and you grow slicker around his cock taking it with ease, Gaz lets out heaved gasps beneath you. Not having fucked anything in a few solid years due to his job, his orgasm is on edge but he does his best to hold back not wanting to come too quick but boy if your insides weren’t practically begging it out of him right now.

“Stop or I’ll—“

Before he can even finish his sentence your hand creeps up off his back and over his mouth hushing his groans when you feel his cock start pulsing inside you reaching his high and flooding your insides with his semen leaving a warm feeling inside your ice cold body.

“Now you’re gonna be good and help me get off right?”

“Y-yes ofcourse”

He nods his head when you hum your song to him not even giving him time to come down from his orgasm when you remove your hand off his mouth and reach to the hand off your hips when you guid it down to your hardened cock, letting out a hiss when he touches the base. Gaz slowly starts stroking your cock and giving it a firm touches under your tip.

He starts stroking your cock a little faster gripping the base with your cock leaking a mess in his palm having you instinctively pushing your hips back down on his cock with the semen inside

“I’m getting close”

Gaz starts stroking your cock faster making you arch your back getting closer to edge with his hand snaking off your hips to your ass giving it a squeeze in time with his strokes. Pre cum starts oozing drink you all down your shaft making a mess when your voice cracks and your orgasm rushes over you, you grip his shoulders tight with your

“Oh fuck—“

“What is it fishy? You’re actin like this is your first orgasm”

You sneer down at him frowning when he says that, ropes of thin liquid shoots from your tip leaving stains on his gear. Your chest raises and falls rapidly practically glowing with your eyes rolling forwards to look down at him under you, sitting on top of him on the ship, you slowly raise up off of Gaz, semen starts oozing out of you and onto the ships deck, your rim twitches all puffy.

Before Garrick could even say anything to you, you were gone. The water flashed and it was like you were an imagination? Your figure lurked under the water then disappeared into the fog, sirens were never known to stick to one prey forever.

“Gaz? Mate what’re you doin?!”

There stood a flabbergasted soap, his mouth agape standing next to price with their eyes focused on a ruin captain kyle Garrick ‘Gaz’ laying covered in come with his pants around his ankles laying on his back, his cock limp and his eyes lidded clearly worn out.

[elryuse]

불장난 Playing With Fire

Yuna X Male Reader

Tags : Ex Girlfriend Yuna, Teasing, Kissing, Pretty Toxic And Slightly Weird Romance, Fluff, Pregnant? Marriage?

Words : 8,557 Words

You always thought the first time you met Yuna would be burned into your memory forever. The sparkle in her eyes, the way her laugh could fill a room, and how effortlessly she made you feel like the only person in the world. That was before. Before the lies, the heartbreak, and the shattered trust. Now, every memory of her feels distant, like a faded photograph buried in the back of your mind. You’ve tried to move on, to live your life without the weight of her betrayal pressing down on your chest.

But fate has a cruel sense of humor.

It’s an ordinary evening when you see her again. The streets are busy with the hum of traffic, and the golden glow of the setting sun reflects off car windows. You’re standing at the corner, waiting for the light to change, when you catch a flash of fiery red out of the corner of your eye. You glance over, and your heart skips a beat.

It’s her. Yuna.

Only, it’s not the Yuna you remember. Gone is the soft brown hair that used to fall in gentle waves down her shoulders. Now, her hair is a striking, fiery red, cut shorter, framing her face with an edge that screams confidence. Her figure, once curvier, is now more toned and petite, as if she’s carved herself into something entirely new. She’s wearing a leather jacket over a simple black dress, and her boots click sharply against the pavement as she crosses the street.

Your instinct is to look away, to pretend you didn’t see her. After everything that happened, the last thing you want is to reopen old wounds. But then, her eyes meet yours, and you know it’s too late.

“...Y/n?” she says, her voice softer than you expect.

You hesitate, debating whether to respond. “Yuna,” you finally say, your tone neutral, guarded.

Her lips curve into a small smile, but there’s something behind it—something you can’t quite place. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d run into you here,” she says, stepping closer.

You take a step back without meaning to, creating just enough distance to feel like you’re still in control. “It’s a big city,” you reply. “I guess it was bound to happen eventually.”

She tilts her head, studying you like you’re some puzzle she can’t quite figure out. “You look good,” she says, her eyes scanning you briefly. “Different, but… good.”

You resist the urge to scoff. “Thanks,” you say curtly. “You, too. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

She grins, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Yeah, the hair’s new. And I’ve been working out more. Needed a fresh start, you know?”

You nod, though you don’t really know what to say to that. The light changes, and the crowd around you begins to move. You take a step toward the crosswalk, hoping she’ll take the hint and let you go.

“Y/n, wait,” she says, reaching out to lightly touch your arm. The contact sends a jolt through you, and you pull back instinctively. Her smile falters for a moment, but she recovers quickly. “Can we talk? Just for a minute?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say firmly. “There’s nothing left to talk about.”

“Come on,” she says, her voice almost pleading. “It’s been, what, a year? Can’t we just… I don’t know, catch up? As friends?”

Friends. The word feels bitter on your tongue. You shake your head. “We were never just friends, Yuna. You know that.”

Her expression softens, and for a moment, she looks like the Yuna you used to know—the one who could make you smile no matter how bad your day had been. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “For everything. I know I screwed up, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I miss you, Y/n. I miss us.”

You feel your chest tighten, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. “You don’t get to say that,” you say, your voice low but firm. “You don’t get to miss us when you were the one who destroyed it.”

She flinches, and for a brief moment, you think you see tears glistening in her eyes. But then she straightens, her fiery hair catching the last rays of sunlight. “You’re right,” she says, her voice steadier now. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’ve changed, Y/n. I’m not the same person I was back then.”

You want to believe her. A part of you—some small, foolish part—still wants to believe that the girl you fell in love with is still in there somewhere. But you can’t forget the pain she caused, the way she broke your heart and left you to pick up the pieces on your own.

“I’m glad you’ve changed,” you say finally. “But that doesn’t change what happened. And it doesn’t mean we can go back to the way things were.”

She nods slowly, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I get it,” she says. “I just… I just wanted to see you. To tell you I’m sorry.”

The sincerity in her voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. Finally, you sigh and take a step back. “Take care of yourself, Yuna.”

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there on the sidewalk. As you disappear into the crowd, you can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t the last time you’ll see her.

And deep down, you’re not sure if that thought scares you—or excites you.

The knock on your door is sudden, sharp, and entirely unexpected. You freeze mid-sip of your morning coffee, the sound cutting through the quiet hum of your apartment like a knife. Three rapid raps, followed by silence. Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall—it’s barely 8 AM. Who the hell could that be?

Setting your mug down cautiously, you make your way to the door, peeking through the peephole before opening it. And there she is: Yuna.

Your ex-girlfriend. The woman who shattered your heart into a thousand irreparable pieces years ago. She stands there, radiant as ever, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight, her lips curved into that familiar smirk that used to make your stomach flip. Now, all it does is twist into knots.

“Hey,” she says casually, as if it’s totally normal for her to show up at your doorstep after all this time. “Long time no see.”

You blink, stunned into silence. Of all the people you thought might show up unannounced at your door this early in the morning, Yuna was not on the list. “What are you doing here?” you finally manage, your voice more curt than you intended.

She shrugs, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe like she owns the place. “I live next door now. Figured I’d come say hi.” Her tone is light, almost playful, but there’s something in her eyes—something burning, intense, calculated. It makes your skin prickle.

“You live… next door?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. This has to be some kind of joke. Or a nightmare. Either way, you don’t like it.

“Mhm,” she hums, nodding. She steps past you into your apartment without waiting for an invitation, her floral perfume lingering in the air as she moves. It’s the same scent she always wore when you were together, and it hits you like a punch to the gut. “Saw your name on the mailbox the other day. Small world, huh?”

“Small world, my ass,” you mutter under your breath, closing the door behind her reluctantly. “This isn’t a coincidence, Yuna. What are you really doing here?”

She turns to face you, her expression softening as she takes a step closer. “I told you. I’m your neighbor now. And… maybe I wanted to see you. Is that so bad?”

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, creating a barrier between the two of you. “Yeah, actually. It is. We haven’t spoken in years. Not since—” You cut yourself off, the memory of what she did still raw, even after all this time.

Her smile falters, and for a moment, she looks genuinely remorseful. “I know, Y/n. I know I hurt you. I was stupid, selfish, and I regretted it the second it happened. You have no idea how much I’ve beat myself up over it.”

“Not enough, apparently,” you snap, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “If you had any respect for me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

She flinches at that, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. But then she squares her shoulders and meets your gaze head-on. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t be here. But the truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. And I know you probably hate me, and maybe you should, but… I needed to try. To see if there’s any chance we could start over.”

You stare at her, your mind racing. Start over? After everything? She can’t possibly be serious. And yet, the look in her eyes tells you she is. Dead serious.

“Yuna,” you say slowly, picking your words carefully. “We’re not the same people we were back then. And even if we were, what you did… that’s not something you just ‘start over’ from.”

She nods, swallowing hard. “I know. And I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight. But… can we at least try to be civil? As neighbors? Maybe even… friends?”

The word hangs in the air between you, heavy with implications. Friends. Yeah, right. Friends don’t do what she did. Friends don’t destroy trust the way she did. And yet, looking at her now, with her wide, pleading eyes and perfectly pouty lips, it’s hard to stay mad. Harder than you want to admit.

“I don’t know, Yuna,” you say finally, sighing. “This is… a lot.”

“I get it,” she says quickly. “And I’ll give you all the space you need. But just… promise me you’ll think about it, okay? Think about us.”

Before you can respond, she steps forward, closing the distance between you. For a second, you think she’s going to kiss you—and part of you wants her to, despite everything. But instead, she simply brushes her fingers lightly against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine.

Then she’s gone, slipping out the door as quickly as she came, leaving you standing there, confused, annoyed, and—damn it—curious.

Over the next few days, Yuna becomes impossible to ignore. Every time you leave your apartment, she’s there, whether it’s in the hallway, by the elevator, or even at the gym. She’s always polite, always friendly, but there’s an underlying tension that neither of you acknowledges. A tension that grows thicker with each passing day.

Tonight, though, she crosses a line.

You’re in the middle of cooking dinner when she knocks on your door again, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a coy smile on her face. “Hi,” she says sweetly. “Thought you might want some company tonight.”

You raise an eyebrow, holding the spatula in your hand like a weapon. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” she replies, pushing past you into the kitchen. “Smells amazing, by the way. What are we having?”

“Steak,” you say automatically before catching yourself. “Wait, no. I’m having steak. You’re interrupting my dinner.”

She grins, setting the wine bottle on the counter and grabbing a corkscrew from the drawer like she belongs here. “Oh, come on. You can’t eat all that by yourself. Besides, we need to talk.”

“About what?” you ask warily, watching as she expertly uncorks the bottle and pours two glasses.

She hands you one, her fingers brushing against yours in a way that feels far too intentional. “About us. About… what happens next.”

You take a sip of the wine, mostly to buy yourself time to think. “There is no ‘us,’ Yuna. Not anymore.”

She leans against the counter, her body language relaxed but her eyes intense. “That’s where you’re wrong. There’s always been an ‘us.’ Even when we weren’t together, even when I screwed everything up… there was always something between us. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words stick in your throat because… god damn it, she’s right. There is something between you. Something electric, magnetic, undeniable. And it’s been there from the moment she showed up at your door.

But you can’t let her know that. Not yet.

Instead, you set your wine glass down and turn back to the stove, flipping the steak with more force than necessary. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Yuna.”

She laughs softly, the sound low and sultry. “Maybe. But you’ve always liked danger, remember?”

Your grip tightens on the spatula. Remember? How could you forget? She’s reminding you on purpose, and it’s working. Memories flood your mind—her hands on your skin, her lips on yours, the way she used to whisper your name in the dark.

“Dinner’s ready,” you say abruptly, plating the steak and handing her a plate. If nothing else, maybe eating will shut her up.

But as the two of you sit down at the table, the tension only grows thicker. Every glance, every brush of skin, every shared laugh sends sparks flying. By the time you finish eating, the air between you is charged, crackling with unspoken desire.

“Thanks for dinner,” Yuna says, standing up and moving closer to you. “It was… delicious.”

She’s not talking about the food, and you both know it.

You stand too, your heart pounding in your chest as she reaches out, her fingertips grazing your jawline. “Yuna,” you warn, your voice husky.

“Yes?” she whispers, her lips dangerously close to yours.

“Don’t—”

But before you can finish, she closes the gap, her mouth crashing into yours like a tidal wave.

And just like that, you’re lost.

Her lips are warm, insistent, and achingly familiar. The moment she kisses you, a flood of memories rushes back—late nights tangled in sheets, whispered promises, the way her body fit perfectly against yours. But this isn’t that time. This is now, and despite everything, your body betrays you. Your hands instinctively move to her waist, pulling her closer as if they have a mind of their own.

Yuna deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm. A soft moan escapes her throat, muffled by the heat of your mouths colliding. Her fingers weave through your hair, tugging gently but firmly, sending a shiver down your spine. She pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, her breath hot and uneven, “I’ve missed you.”

The words hang in the air like a confession, raw and unfiltered. You want to push her away, to remind yourself of why you shouldn’t be doing this, but her touch is magnetic, her presence intoxicating. Your resolve wavers, crumbling under the weight of her longing.

Her hands slide down your chest, fingertips tracing the contours of your muscles through your shirt. They pause at the hem, slipping beneath the fabric, skin meeting skin for the first time in what feels like forever. Her touch ignites something deep within you, a hunger you thought you’d buried long ago.

“Yuna,” you murmur, your voice rough with desire, “this isn’t—”

She silences you with another kiss, harder this time, more desperate. Her nails dig lightly into your sides, leaving tingling trails in their wake. When she finally breaks away, her eyes lock onto yours, blazing with something you can’t quite place—need, remorse, or maybe both. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you,” she breathes, her voice trembling with emotion.

Before you can respond, she sinks to her knees, her hands moving to the button of your jeans. Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound deafening in the quiet room. This is wrong, a small voice in the back of your mind whispers, but it’s drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the way her fingers work deftly to free you from the confines of your clothing.

Her breath hitches as she takes you in, her gaze lingering for a moment before she leans forward, her lips brushing against the tip of you. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through your body, your hips jerking involuntarily. She smirks up at you, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Still sensitive, huh?” she teases, her voice low and husky.

You don’t have time to respond before she takes you fully into her mouth, her tongue swirling around your length with practiced ease. A groan escapes your lips, your hands tangling in her hair as she moves with a rhythm that leaves you dizzy. Her name falls from your lips like a prayer, barely audible over the sound of her sucking you deeper, harder.

She pulls back momentarily, looking up at you through hooded lids. “Do you remember how much you used to love this?” she asks, her voice dripping with sultry anticipation. Before you can answer, she’s swallowing you again, her lips pressing tightly around you as she works her way down your shaft.

Your knees buckle slightly, the sensation overwhelming. Her hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as she bobs her head, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The wet sounds fill the room, mingling with her soft sighs and your ragged breaths. It’s messy, desperate, and utterly consuming.

As her pace quickens, so does the ache building in your core. You’re close, too close, and the realization makes your grip on her hair tighten. “Yuna, I—”

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. Instead, she hums around you, the vibrations making your entire body shudder. Her eyes meet yours again, and there’s a challenge in them, daring you to let go. And you do, unable to hold back any longer.

With a strangled groan, you release, her name tumbling from your lips as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. She takes it all, her tongue lapping at you greedily until you’re completely spent, your legs trembling beneath you.

When she finally pulls away, there’s a hint of mischief in her smile, along with something softer, more vulnerable. She stands slowly, her hands resting lightly on your hips as she looks up at you. “You always did taste so good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with satisfaction.

You’re still catching your breath, your mind reeling from what just happened. There’s a part of you that wants to pull her into your arms, to feel her warmth against you. But there’s also a part that feels conflicted, torn between the past and the present, between what you feel and what you know you should do.

Yuna seems to sense your hesitation. She steps closer, her body pressing against yours, her lips brushing against your neck. “I meant what I said,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I’ve missed you. More than you could ever know.”

You swallow hard, your hands hovering at her sides, unsure whether to push her away or pull her closer. “Yuna".

She leans back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes searching yours. “Don’t think too much about it,” she says softly. “Just… let me make you feel good. Like I used to.”

Her hands slide up your chest, pushing your shirt off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Her touch is gentle, almost reverent, as she traces the lines of your body. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” she admits, her voice filled with awe.

Before you can respond, she’s leading you toward the couch, her movements confident yet tender. She pushes you down gently, then straddles your lap, her thighs squeezing your hips as she leans in to kiss you again. Her lips are softer this time, more deliberate, as if she’s savoring every second.

You find your hands moving without conscious thought, gripping her waist, sliding up her back, exploring every inch of her. She lets out a soft sigh, arching into your touch, her body molding against yours like it was made to fit there.

“Tell me you want this,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice trembling with need. “Tell me you want me.”

Your heart races, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. But when her hand slips between your bodies, her fingers brushing against the growing heat between her legs, your resolve crumbles completely.

You can’t find the words to respond. Not when her body is pressed so tightly against yours, not when her hand is moving with such purpose, igniting a fire deep within you that you swore had been extinguished long ago. Instead, you let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping her hips as if holding onto them will keep you from losing yourself completely.

Yuna doesn’t wait for an answer. She doesn’t need one. The way your body responds to her touch—the way you instinctively pull her closer—tells her everything she needs to know. Her lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses that make your head spin. Each kiss is deliberate, each move calculated to unravel you further.

Her fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants, brushing against the sensitive skin of your stomach. You gasp, your grip tightening on her as she lets out a soft laugh against your collarbone. There it is, you think. That sound. That laugh. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it, but it still hits you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of your lungs and making your heart ache in ways you don’t want to acknowledge.

“Stop thinking,” Yuna murmurs, her voice low and husky. “Just feel.”

It’s easier said than done. Your mind is racing, torn between the past and the present, between anger and desire. But then her hand slips lower, her fingers wrapping around you, and all thoughts evaporate into nothingness. A moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and Yuna smirks against your skin, clearly pleased with herself.

“That’s more like it,” she says, her breath hot against your ear. “Let me remind you what you’ve been missing.”

Before you can respond, she’s sinking to her knees in front of you, her hands working quickly to free you from the confines of your clothes. You barely have time to process what’s happening before her mouth is on you, warm and wet and impossible to resist. Your head falls back, a strangled groan escaping your throat as her tongue swirls around you, teasing and taunting in equal measure.

God, you’ve missed this. Missed her. The way she knows exactly how to drive you wild, the way she takes you apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left but raw, unfiltered sensation. Her mouth moves expertly, drawing you deeper, her hand working in tandem to heighten every touch. You can feel the pressure building, threatening to consume you, and you force yourself to hold back, not wanting this to end too soon.

But Yuna isn’t having it. She pulls away just enough to look up at you, her eyes dark with desire. “Let go,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing. “I want to hear you.”

And then she’s taking you in again, her movements faster, more urgent. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on anything other than the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you, but it’s no use. You’re powerless against her, against the way she makes you feel. Your hips buck involuntarily, and Yuna makes a soft noise of approval, encouraging you to keep going.

The tension coils tighter and tighter until you can’t take it anymore. With a cry, you come undone, your body shuddering as waves of ecstasy crash over you. Yuna doesn’t pull away, not even when you’re spent and trembling, your legs barely able to support you. Instead, she stays where she is, her lips pressing gently against your skin as if savoring the moment.

When she finally stands, there’s a look of pure satisfaction on her face. “Welcome back,” she says softly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I was starting to think I’d lost my touch.”

You let out a shaky laugh, though your mind is still reeling. “You haven’t lost anything,” you admit, your voice hoarse. “If anything, you’ve gotten better.”

Yuna grins, clearly pleased with your admission. “Practice makes perfect,” she teases, stepping closer to press a kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on her, and it only serves to deepen the ache inside you, the need for more.

She pulls away slowly, her hands trailing down your chest as she steps back. “Now it’s your turn,” she says, her voice dripping with promise. “Don’t worry—I’ll guide you.”

You’re about to ask what she means when she turns and walks toward your bedroom, her hips swaying with every step. The sight alone is enough to make your pulse quicken, and you follow after her without hesitation, your earlier reservations forgotten.

The room is dimly lit, the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. Yuna stops at the foot of the bed, turning to face you with a look that sends a shiver down your spine. Slowly, she begins to undress, each movement deliberate, each inch of skin revealed making your mouth go dry.

When she’s fully naked, she reaches for your hand, pulling you closer until you’re standing right in front of her. “Touch me,” she whispers, her voice trembling with anticipation. “Show me you remember how.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for her, your fingers skimming over her bare skin. She sighs, leaning into your touch as you explore the curves and valleys of her body, rediscovering every part of her that once felt like home. Her breath hitches when your fingers brush over her nipples, and she arches into your touch, silently urging you to continue.

You lower your head, capturing one taut peak between your lips, and she gasps, her hands tangling in your hair. Her scent surrounds you, heady and intoxicating, and you’re desperate for more. Your tongue flicks against her, eliciting another sharp intake of breath, and you can feel her pulse quickening beneath your fingertips.

“Y/n,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please…”

You know what she wants. What she needs. And you’re more than willing to give it to her.

As if on cue, the opening notes of your favorite song drift through the speakers in the corner of the room. The melody is soft and slow, filling the space with a quiet intimacy that makes the moment feel even more significant somehow. Yuna’s eyes meet yours, and there’s something in her gaze—something tender and vulnerable—that catches you off guard.

“This song,” she says, her voice shaking slightly. “It reminds me of us. Of who we used to be.”

Used to be. The words echo in your mind, stirring memories you’d tried so hard to forget. Late-night drives, stolen kisses, whispered promises of forever. All of it comes rushing back, overwhelming you with emotions you thought you’d buried long ago.

Yuna seems to sense the shift in your mood because she reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “We’re not those people anymore,” she admits, her voice heavy with regret. “But maybe… maybe we can be something better.”

You don’t respond—you can’t. Not when your heart feels like it’s being torn in two. But then she’s guiding you toward the bed, her touch firm yet gentle, and all you can do is follow.

The sheets are cool against your skin as you lie down, your bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and heat. Yuna’s lips find yours again, her kiss slow and languid, as if she’s trying to convey everything she can’t put into words. And for the first time since she walked back into your life, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—she’s right.

Yuna’s fingers trail down your chest, her touch light but deliberate, sending shivers through your body. She pauses at the hem of her shirt, her gaze locking with yours as if silently asking for permission. You nod, barely able to form a coherent thought, and she pulls the fabric over her head, revealing herself to you in the soft glow of the bedroom.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur, your voice thick with desire.

She smiles, a gentle curve of her lips that makes your heart ache. “Touch me,” she whispers, guiding your hands to her waist. Her skin is warm beneath your palms, smooth and inviting, and you feel the faint tremor of her breath as you slide your hands upward.

Her breasts fit perfectly in your hands, soft yet firm, and you thumb over her nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from her lips. She arches into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she opens them again, their intensity burning into you.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes, her voice trembling with need.

You don’t. You can’t. Every part of you is drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, and you lose yourself in the sensation of her skin against yours. Your fingers trace the curves of her body, exploring every inch of her with a reverent touch, as if committing her to memory all over again.

Her hands move to the waistband of your pants, her fingers deftly unbuttoning them and sliding them down your legs. The cool air brushes against your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating from her body. She straddles you, her thighs pressing against your hips, and you can feel the wetness between her legs as she grinds against you.

“God, I missed this,” she moans, her head tipping back as she rocks her hips against yours. “I missed you.”

You grip her hips, guiding her movements as your own arousal builds. Her breath comes in short, shallow bursts, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she loses herself in the rhythm. Her hands grip your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin just enough to leave marks, and the sting only adds to the fire coursing through your veins.

“Yuna,” you groan, your voice rough with desperation. “I need you.”

She leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless. “Then take me,” she murmurs against your mouth. “Take me like you used to.”

Her words ignite something primal within you, and you flip her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head. She lets out a surprised laugh, quickly replaced by a low moan as you press yourself against her, your length teasing her entrance.

“Are you sure?” you ask, your voice strained with restraint.

She nods, her eyes dark with desire. “Please,” she begs, her hips lifting to meet yours. “I need you inside me.”

You don’t need any more encouragement. With a slow, steady thrust, you enter her, both of you groaning in unison at the sensation. She’s tight, her walls clenching around you as if trying to pull you deeper, and you savor the feeling of being inside her once again.

Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as you begin to move. Each thrust is deliberate, measured, designed to draw out the pleasure for both of you. Her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging gently as she gasps your name, her voice echoing in the quiet room.

“Faster,” she urges, her nails scraping down your back. “Harder.”

You oblige, increasing your pace as her pleas grow more desperate. Her hips buck against yours, meeting each thrust with equal fervor, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air. Her breaths come in short, ragged gasps, her body tightening around you as she teeters on the edge of release.

“Y/N… Y/N, I’m close,” she whimpers, her voice breaking as she clings to you. “Don’t stop—please don’t stop.”

You bury your face in the crook of her neck, your lips brushing against her skin as you whisper, “Let go, Yuna. I’ve got you.”

Her climax hits her hard, her body convulsing around you as she cries out your name. The sensation sends you over the edge, and with a final, powerful thrust, you spill yourself inside her, your vision blurring as waves of pleasure crash over you.

For several moments, neither of you moves, content to simply bask in the afterglow. Her fingers stroke your back, her touch tender and soothing, and you press a soft kiss to her shoulder before finally pulling away.

She looks up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Do you remember the first time we did this?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” you reply, your hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “How could I forget?”

She smiles, though there’s a sadness in her expression that makes your chest tighten. “I wish things were different,” she says softly. “I wish I hadn’t hurt you.”

“We can’t change the past,” you tell her, your fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “But maybe… maybe we can start over.”

Her eyes widen, hope flickering in their depths. “Do you mean that?”

Before you can answer, she kisses you again, her lips pouring everything she can’t say into the gesture. And as you kiss her back, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this is the second chance you’ve both been waiting

The kiss deepens, her fingers tangling in your hair as if she's afraid to let you go. You can feel her trembling beneath you, a mix of hope, longing, and fear coursing through her. When you finally pull away, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

"I mean it," you say softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "But if we're going to start over, things have to be different, Yuna. No secrets, no lies. We need to be honest with each other-completely."

She nods quickly, her eyes searching yours as if trying to commit every detail to memory. "I promise," she whispers. "I'll do whatever it takes to make this work, Y/n. I've lost you once, and I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

Her words tug at something deep inside you, a flicker of the love you once shared beginning to reignite. But there's still a part of you that's wary, a part that remembers the pain of betrayal and the sleepless nights spent wondering what you did wrong.

"Starting over doesn't mean forgetting," you say, your tone firm but gentle. "We both need to face what happened before we can move forward. Do you understand that?"

"I do," she says, her voice steady despite the tears welling in her eyes. "And I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I'm serious. I'll earn back your trust, Y/n, no matter how long it takes."

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of the past hangs heavy between you, but so does the possibility of something new, something better.

"Alright," you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "Let's try."

The relief that washes over her is palpable, and she throws her arms around you, holding you close as if you might slip away at any moment. "Thank you," she murmurs against your chest. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

As you hold her, you can't help but wonder if you've made the right decision. The road ahead won't be easy-rebuilding what you had will take time, patience, and an unshakable commitment from both of you. But as you feel her heart beating against yours, you realize that some risks are worth taking.

Later that night, as the two of you lie tangled together in the sheets, Yuna's head resting on your chest, she traces lav patterns on your skin with her fingertips.

"Do you ever think about the future?" she asks softly, her voice laced with a vulnerability that catches you off guard.

"Sometimes," you admit. "Why?"

She shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow so she can look at you. "Because I want you to be in mine," she says, her eyes shimmering with sincerity. "I know it's too soon to say things like that, but. I need you to know how I feel. You're not just a second chance for me, Y/n. You're my only chance."

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you're left speechless. But as you look into her eyes, you realize that despite everything, a part of you still loves her-still wants to believe that the two of you can build something beautiful together.

Taking her hand in yours, you press a kiss to her palm and meet her gaze. "If we're going to do this, we take it one step at a time," you say. "No rushing, no expectations. Just us, figuring things out as we go."

She smiles, a genuine, radiant smile that makes your heart ache in the best possible way. "I can live with that," she says.

And as you lie there together, the shadows of the past slowly fading into the background, you can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope—for the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t seem so uncertain after all.

The soft rays of morning sunlight stream through the curtains, painting the room in a gentle golden hue. You stretch, feeling the pleasant soreness from the night before, and glance down at Yuna, who is still curled up against you. Her fiery red hair is a mess, splayed out across the pillow, and her lips are slightly parted as she breathes softly in her sleep.

You chuckle to yourself. She looks so peaceful, almost like the Yuna you first fell in love with—before everything became complicated. Not wanting to wake her, you gently untangle yourself from her grasp and slip out of bed.

Padding to the kitchen, you open the fridge and rummage through its contents. Eggs, cheese, a few vegetables—simple but enough for a decent breakfast. As you crack the eggs into a bowl and whisk them, you can’t help but smile at the thought of her reaction.

The smell of sizzling butter and the aroma of freshly scrambled eggs mixed with melted cheese begins to fill the apartment. You chop some green onions and sprinkle them over the eggs, adding a touch of color. The satisfying sizzle echoes through the quiet space, and before long, the scent has spread to every corner of the room.

Behind you, you hear a sleepy groan, followed by the soft rustling of sheets.

“Mm… what’s that smell?” Yuna’s groggy voice floats through the air.

You glance over your shoulder to see her sitting up in bed, her hair adorably disheveled and her eyes still half-closed. She rubs at them lazily before focusing on you, a small smile spreading across her face as she watches you at the stove.

“You’re up early,” she says, her voice teasing. “And cooking? What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” you reply, flipping the eggs onto a plate. “Just thought you might be hungry when you woke up.”

She grins, propping herself up on her elbows. “You’re full of surprises, Y/n. I don’t remember you cooking much before. In fact…” She pauses, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Didn’t your cooking use to suck?”

You snort, shaking your head as you grab a couple of plates and start plating the food. “I’ve improved, believe it or not. You’d be surprised what a person can learn when they’re fending for themselves.”

“Well,” she says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up, “I guess I’ll be the judge of that.”

As she approaches the kitchen, still dressed in your oversized shirt from the night before, she leans against the counter, watching you with a playful smirk. You hand her a plate, and she raises an eyebrow as she inspects the food.

“Eggs, cheese, green onions… simple but promising,” she says, lifting a fork.

You roll your eyes. “Just eat, critic.”

She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. Her expression shifts, and for a moment, you can’t tell if she’s impressed or just messing with you.

“Well?” you ask, leaning against the counter opposite her.

She swallows, placing the fork down dramatically before breaking into a grin. “Not bad, chef. Not bad at all. I’d give it a solid eight out of ten.”

“Eight?” you repeat, feigning offense. “What’s keeping me from a ten?”

She tilts her head, pretending to think. “Maybe it’s missing… love?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

She grins, her eyes sparkling as she takes another bite. “But seriously, Y/n, this is good. I guess you really have changed.”

Her words carry more weight than you expect, and for a moment, the playful atmosphere gives way to something deeper. She looks up at you, her expression softening.

“You’ve grown a lot,” she says quietly. “I can see it in the way you carry yourself, the way you take care of things. It’s… inspiring.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at her words, but you shrug it off casually. “Well, I had to grow up eventually.”

Yuna reaches across the counter, her fingers brushing against yours. “I’m glad I get to see this version of you,” she says softly.

You meet her gaze, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you. The past, the present, and the uncertain future all blur together, leaving only the fragile connection you’re trying to rebuild.

“Let’s just take it one day at a time,” you say, your voice steady.

She nods, her smile warm and genuine. “One day at a time.”

And as the morning sunlight fills the room, you realize that, for the first time in a long time, the day ahead doesn’t feel so daunting.

The decision to give Yuna another chance weighs heavily on your mind, like standing at the edge of a precipice. You’re fully aware of what’s at stake—your heart, your trust, and maybe even your peace of mind. But something about her feels different this time. Or maybe it’s the part of you that never stopped loving her, hoping against hope that this time, things might be different.

The two of you start slow, agreeing to rebuild your relationship step by step. Date nights become a regular thing—dinners, quiet walks in the park, or just staying in and watching movies together. Each moment feels like a cautious dance, balancing hope and fear, love and doubt.

One evening, you’re sitting on the couch with her, a bowl of popcorn between you and an old rom-com playing on the screen. Yuna leans against your shoulder, her hand resting lightly on your thigh. It’s a quiet, domestic moment, but your thoughts are anything but calm.

“Y/n,” she says softly, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.

“Yeah?” you reply, glancing down at her.

She hesitates, her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “Do you… still think about it? What I did?”

Her question hangs in the air, heavy and unavoidable. You let out a slow breath, your eyes drifting to the TV but not really seeing it.

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. “I think about it sometimes. It’s hard not to.”

She pulls away slightly, just enough to look at you. Her eyes are filled with guilt and fear, and you can see the words she wants to say but can’t quite bring herself to voice.

“But I’m trying,” you continue, meeting her gaze. “I’m trying to let go of the past. To focus on what we have now.”

Her hand tightens on your leg, and she leans into you again, her face pressed against your shoulder. “I don’t deserve this,” she whispers. “I don’t deserve you.”

You wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Maybe not,” you say lightly, trying to ease the tension. “But I’m giving you a chance anyway. So don’t mess it up.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, but you can feel the tension in her body start to ease. “I won’t,” she promises. “I swear, Y/n. I won’t mess this up.”

The days turn into weeks, and you begin to notice the subtle changes in Yuna. She’s more thoughtful now, more attentive. She goes out of her way to show you how much she cares, whether it’s through small gestures like cooking your favorite meals or leaving little notes for you to find throughout the day.

But there are still moments when doubt creeps in—when you catch her staring off into the distance with a troubled look or when a conversation reminds you of the cracks that once broke your relationship apart.

One night, as you’re lying in bed together, you decide to confront it head-on.

“Yuna,” you say, your voice cutting through the quiet.

She turns to face you, her eyes wide and questioning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, then pause. “Actually… I just need to ask you something.”

She nods, sitting up slightly. “What is it?”

“Why now?” you ask, your voice steady but laced with curiosity. “Why come back now, after everything?”

She takes a deep breath, her hands twisting nervously in the sheets. “Because I realized how stupid I was,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I let go of the best thing that ever happened to me, and for what? A fleeting moment of… I don’t even know what. I hated myself for hurting you, Y/n. I still do. But when I saw you again, I thought… maybe this is my chance to make it right.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, raw and unfiltered. You can see the pain in her eyes, the regret that she carries with her every day.

“I can’t promise I’ll forget,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “But I’m willing to try. As long as you’re willing to put in the effort, too.”

She nods quickly, tears brimming in her eyes. “I am. I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/n. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth it.”

You reach out, cupping her face in your hands. “You don’t have to prove anything, Yuna. Just… be honest with me. Be real. That’s all I want.”

“I will,” she whispers, leaning into your touch.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself slowly letting your guard down, piece by piece. It’s not easy—trust is fragile, and the scars of the past don’t fade overnight. But with each shared laugh, each tender moment, and each promise kept, you begin to believe that maybe, just maybe, you and Yuna can make this work.

But deep down, you know you’re playing with fire. One wrong move, one misstep, and it could all come crashing down.

And yet, as you lie beside her, her head resting on your chest and her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin, you can’t help but think that some risks are worth taking.

For now, you’ll take it one day at a time.

The day feels surreal, the kind of quiet that makes you question how you got here. Yuna is by your side, her arms wrapped around yours as you both walk the short distance from her apartment to yours, carrying the last of her belongings.

She giggles, the sound light and musical, and leans her head against your shoulder. "It feels strange, doesn’t it?" she says, her voice filled with warmth. "Moving in together after all this time… like we’ve come full circle."

You glance at her, your emotions a tangled web. Her hair is back to the soft brown shade you once adored, framing her face in a way that makes her look like the girl you fell for all those years ago. But she’s not the same, and neither are you. The ghosts of the past linger, no matter how much effort you both put into rebuilding what was broken.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, your grip tightening slightly on the bag you’re carrying. “It’s… strange.”

Reaching your apartment, you set the bags down by the door. Yuna takes a step inside, looking around with a contented smile. She turns to you, her arms outstretched, and pulls you into a hug.

“You’ve made this place feel like home,” she murmurs, her cheek pressed against your chest.

You hesitate for a moment before wrapping your arms around her, the familiar scent of her shampoo flooding your senses. “It’s home because you’re here now,” you say, the words sounding both true and heavy.

She pulls back slightly, her eyes sparkling with emotion. “I never thought I’d get this chance, Y/n. To be with you again. To… to have a family with you.”

Her hands move to her stomach, and she caresses it gently, the motion so tender it tugs at something deep within you. Your eyes follow the gesture, and for a moment, the reality of it all washes over you like a tidal wave.

A family. A future. With her.

Your gaze shifts to the wedding ring on her finger—a symbol of the promises you made, the commitment you’re trying so hard to uphold. It feels heavy, like a chain and a lifeline all at once.

Yuna notices your silence and tilts her head, her smile soft but questioning. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say after a beat, forcing a small smile. “Just… thinking about everything. About us.”

She steps closer, her hands resting on your chest as she gazes up at you. “I know it hasn’t been easy,” she says quietly. “And I know I hurt you before. But I swear, Y/n, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. To us.”

Her words are earnest, filled with a love that feels overwhelming in its intensity. You nod, though the knot in your chest remains. “I know you will.”

She smiles again, her joy infectious as she intertwines her fingers with yours. “Let’s make dinner together tonight,” she suggests, her tone light. “You can show off those cooking skills of yours again.”

You chuckle despite yourself. “Only if you promise not to criticize too much.”

“No promises,” she teases, leaning up to kiss your cheek.

As the two of you begin unpacking her belongings, the room fills with her laughter and the faint sound of music playing in the background. She moves with a lightness you haven’t seen in years, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to believe in the happiness you’re building together.

But as you watch her carefully place a photo of the two of you on the shelf—a relic from the early days of your love—you can’t shake the mixed feelings swirling in your chest.

You want this to work. You need it to work. But the scars of the past don’t fade so easily, and the weight of what you’re risking—your heart, your trust, your future—hangs heavily in the air.

Still, when Yuna looks at you with that radiant smile, her hand resting protectively over the life you’ve created together, you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, you can make it work.

For now, that’s enough.

[valentine-cafe]

m!reader who is MUCH larger than 781 rishen… he soon realizes he has a kink for size difference and he decides to fuck him in front of their mirror, taunting him, “look at that, baby… my cock reaches all the way up here…” pressing his hand on rishen’s abdomen as he fucks him with slow and teasing thrusts.

making rishen get needy, until he starts playing with his silk slits and nipples to make him cum from that instead of his cock. 😩

˖⁺. ﹙ bottom nerd x top male reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . too big? yeah? thas' it good boy !! 🍒 : hero ˖ moth-spider-mantis hybrid ˖ preppy nerd character﹙ verse 781 rishen. ﹚

you found new pleasure in yours and your boyfriend's size difference, making him whine when you large dick is fucking him too slow, cw: size difference, web slit play, nipple play, edging, tummy bulge

You’d have him spilling all over, pre cum flowing out of his flushed red tip. Agitated and in need for more friction, more stimulation. The noises of the bed creaking below as he gets pounded slowly and teasingly from behind just isn’t enough to get him to where he needs to be.

Oh all of those wonderful little whines he spews when you dig your palm down on his abdomen to intensify the feelings of the large tummy bulge you’re giving him.

“F-fuck— t-too big- Too big”

“P-a-papi- oh my god! ngh”

“Jus-Just fuck me already!”

Your hips slam into his firmly at the last sentence. Fingers feasting away at the flesh below them as they dig in.

“Don’t be a fucking brat.” You groan quietly into his ear and continue the same. Agonizingly slow pace he previously moaned and whined so much about.

It isn’t hard to tell a huff left him, the feel of his back jutting against your chest forced a smirk to appear on your features. Fine, since he wants to play this way, why don’t you do it your way too?

Slowly, the fingers of your right hand begin tracing around one of the particularily swollen silk slits around his inner thigh, rubbing away at it fast, to contrast the pace of your slow thrusts. While your left hand slithered up your boyfriend’s body to tug hard on his nipple piercing.

Yelping, Rishen begins bucking his thighs with the intense feel of your fingers rubbing at a few of his slits. You pull whine after whine out of him when you twist and tug at his nipple, and then. . .

Your right hand moves to grip around his shaft, rubbing just below his tip, where there is a hidden silk slit throbbing and sensitive. Awaiting you.

His vision goes white, while ropes of cum shoot out of him. He hadn’t anticipated how hard he came himself, eyes hapazardly open as he fucked his hips into your hand blissfully as you begin pounding him from behind. Pressing your hands against the tummy bulge to see some more of his reactions.

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔒𝔲𝔯 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔱

Mike Munroe x male reader

Summary: Being in a secret relationship with Mike Munroe was equal parts intoxicating and excruciating. The stolen touches, the nights spent tangled together in secrecy was addictive. But the weight of hiding it all was suffocating, and one night, when the tension between you reached its breaking point, you finally confronted him.

Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. No use of Y/N. Sensual tension. Jealousy. Friends to lovers. Cute interactions between Mike and the reader. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Bottom male reader. Blowjob (reading giving and receiving). Anal sex.

Words count: 5500

You hadn't expected Mike Munroe to notice you. Why would he? You had spent most of your life mastering the art of blending in. If Mike shone like fireworks against the night sky, you were the quiet flicker of a candle in the corner, soft and unassuming.

And you were okay with that. At least, that's what you told yourself.

You'd met Mike through your shared group of friends—Chris, Ashley, Sam— and while he had always been polite, his attention had always seemed elsewhere.

You'd found comfort in your little corner with Chris and Ashley and their easy banter and grounded energy. Chris, especially, had become your closest confidant. He was the kind of friend who could pull you out of your head with a single sarcastic comment, who didn't mind when you sank into moments of silence. You'd never had to fight for Chris's attention; it was just there, freely given, and that simplicity made him feel safe.

But lately, you've noticed something strange.

Or rather, someone.

Mike's eyes lingered on you in ways that made your skin tingle, the hairs at the back of your neck standing on end. At first, you thought you were imagining it. But then there were the moments you couldn't explain away: the sharp way his gaze would cut across the room whenever Chris slung an arm around your shoulder, the tightness in his jaw when you and Sam leaned in close, lost in conversation.

Something in the way his eyes lingered on yours that made your stomach twist in knots.

It was moments like those that made your stomach twist, a confusing mix of excitement and fear. Because the truth was, you wanted Mike's attention. You wanted it in ways that scared you, in ways that left you aching in the middle of the night, your mind replaying every stolen glance, every accidental touch.

The night of senior prom was where everything changed.

The gym was a blur of colored lights and pounding bass, the air heavy with the mingling scents of cheap cologne, perfume, and sweat. You'd been nursing a cup of punch on the sidelines, watching everything unfold with a mix of amusement and detachment. Chris and Ashley were off somewhere being grossly adorable and Sam was deep in conversation with Hannah and Beth. No sight of the rest of the group.

When Mike approached you, it was impossible to ignore how good he looked. His styled hair was now tousled, as though he’d run his hand through it one too many times. Sharp jawline slightly shadowed with the hint of a five o’clock stubble and cheeks faintly flushed, whether from the alcohol or the warmth of the crowded room, you couldn't tell.

The first few buttons of his dress shirt undone to reveal the smooth line of his collarbone and just a hint of skin beneath. The crispness of his tux jacket was gone, replaced by a relaxed slouch that was somehow just as captivating.

The faint scent of his spicy and woodsy cologne mingled with the smell of booze on his breath as he leaned closer to you. His hand was already reaching out as though the decision had been made long before he got there.

“Hey,” he started, his voice lower than usual, carrying a huskiness to it. He licked his lips quickly, almost absentmindedly, before continuing, “You’re not really just gonna stand there all night, are you?” He tilted his head, his fingers flexing in the air between you as if urging you to take his hand.

There was a flicker of something in his gaze that felt equal parts curious and dangerous. His eyes were locked on you, and for a split second, they flicked downward long enough to make your lips tingle like he'd touched them instead of merely looked.

It hit you that this wasn't just some half-hearted attempt to mess around. Mike Munroe, who could have anyone in the room, was standing there, looking at you like there was no one else worth noticing.

You started to stammer a weak excuse but he cut you off with a breathless laugh, shaking his head like he couldn't believe you were trying to resist him.

"You're not gonna make me ask twice, are you?" he continued, "Dance with me."

Your heart skipped a beat, your mind scrambling to process his words. Was he serious? Or was this just another one of his jokes?

"C'mon, don’t make me beg. It's embarrassing." There was something in his eyes, a flicker of curiosity and eagerness that made it impossible to say no.

Not that you had much of a choice.

He grabbed your hand and tugged you onto the dance floor, his grin widening when you stumbled slightly.

The next thing you knew, his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other.

The song was slow, unhurried, and so were his movements. His hips swayed lazily in time with the music, as if he wasn't in any rush to let the moment end. His hands stayed on your waist, thumbs brushing small, languid circles against the fabric of your suit. His head tilted slightly as he watched you, his lips curving into that lopsided smile of his, like he was soaking in every detail of your reaction.

His hands lingered on your waist, his grip firm but gentle. Every subtle move he made, from the shift of his hips to the way his thumbs pressed just a little harder into your sides, felt deliberate, like he was testing the limits of the space you shared.

When he leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your jaw, it was almost instinct to pull away, but his hands held you in place. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "Let's get out of here."

Next thing you knew, he was pulling you through the crowd without waiting for a response, his hand gripped yours firmly as he navigated through the throng of swaying bodies. He glanced back over his shoulder every few steps, his eyes locking with yours like he was silently checking to make sure you hadn't changed your mind.

The thrill of it all sent a heady rush through your veins.

You didn't know where he was taking you until you were outside, the cool night air biting at your skin as he led you to his car, parked in a darkened corner of the lot. The sounds of the party faded into the background, leaving only the echo of your own footsteps and the pounding of your heart.

The space between you was nonexistent, pinning you lightly against the side of the car. His gaze roamed your face, expression unreadable but intense. It was dizzying, the combination of him so close and the way his eyes kept flickering down to your lips, like he was fighting some internal battle he didn't entirely understand.

His lips parted slightly and you could see the faintest tremor in his breath as his gaze dipped to your mouth again, lingering there for just a moment too long.

And then he moved.

It was sudden, almost desperate, the way he closed the gap and kissed you. His lips crashed against yours with a force that made you gasp, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you flush against him. There was nothing soft about it, his mouth moving against yours like he'd been starving for this.

He trailed kisses along your jaw, down the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

You could feel him, hard and insistent through the thin fabric of his dress pants. Your own hands found their way to his chest, clutching at the open collar of his shirt as he pressed closer.

He pulled back for just a moment, his breathing ragged as he rested his forehead against yours. "Get in," he murmured, his voice low and strained, pulling you toward the passenger side. You barely registered the cold as you clambered into the cramped interior, the car doors clicking shut behind you.

He was already on you the second you crawled inside the car, his body pressing you down against the leather seat. His weight pinned you there as his lips crashed against yours, hot and insistent, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip just hard enough to make you gasp.

And God, the low, guttural sound he made that rumbled deep in his chest, sending vibrations through your entire body.

The sharp nip of his teeth on your lower lip pulled a muffled gasp from you and he took the opportunity to press his tongue into your mouth, deep and insistent.

Your head tilted back as his mouth moved, trailing a messy line of kisses down your jaw and neck, biting down just hard enough to leave marks.

He broke away from your neck just long enough to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly aside before his mouth was on you again, tracing the line of your collarbone. His tongue flicked over sensitive skin, followed by the scrape of his teeth while his hands were unbuckling your belt. The metal clink echoed in the small room, followed by the hiss of fabric sliding down your hips.

Your knees buckled when he finally dipped his hand beneath the waistband, his fingers curling around you with a grip that was firm, stroking you slowly at first, his thumb sweeping over the tip.

His other hand found your thigh, hooking it around his waist as he pressed closer, grinding against you with ferocity. His hands stripped away the last barriers as you lifted your leg higher, opening up for him.

When he entered you, it was with a single, unrelenting motion that left you breathless, your head sinking into the soft material of the seats. The stretch was almost too much, a sharp, burning ache that quickly gave way to a fullness that left you trembling. He didn't stop, his hips driving forward, each thrust forcing a broken sound from your lips.

The tight space of the car was filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies colliding. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you again and again, each motion more forceful than the last.

The car windows began to fog with the heat of your shared breaths, your nails dug into his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist as you clung to him.

His teeth grazed over your skin, leaving marks that would bloom into bruises by morning, his lips sucking hard enough to leave you dizzy.

When you came, it was sudden and overwhelming, your body convulsing around him as you cried out, the sound muffled against his shoulder. He followed moments later, his movements growing erratic as he buried himself deep, his whole body tensing as he came with a low, guttural groan.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips curling into that familiar lopsided grin. But there was something softer there that made your chest tighten.

From there, things escalated quickly.

It was like once the dam had broken, neither of you could stop.

At first, it was stolen moments like a quick kiss outside the lodge when the others were distracted, his hand slipping under your shirt while you made out in the backseat of his car after a late-night drive. He'd corner you in quiet rooms at parties, lips crashing against yours before you could say a word.

He’d plop down beside you during group hangouts, his thigh pressing against yours under the table and a hand sneakily resting on your thing.

But as time went on, the moments became longer, more intimate.

You started spending more time alone together, under the guise of "studying" or "hanging out." He'd show up at your dorm unannounced, pinning you to the bed, body pressed against yours as he kissed you like he was trying to devour you.

It wasn't long before it started to feel like a relationship.

Like you were his and he was yours.

But neither of you ever said it out loud.

There was an unspoken understanding between you, a mutual agreement to keep things quiet. It was easier that way.

Safer.

After all, Mike had a reputation and you weren't exactly eager to put yourself under a microscope either.

Still, there were moments when the secrecy felt unbearable.

Like right now at the lodge during one of your usual hangouts for the weekend with everyone else. Mike was sprawled out on the couch with Jess perched dangerously close to his side, her manicured nails brushing against his arm as she laughed at something he'd said. Emily sat nearby, leaning forward with that sharp, appraising smile of hers.

You stood near the kitchen, nursing a drink you didn't really want, watching the scene unfold like some kind of slow torture. Mike's boyish grin was firmly in place, his posture loose and relaxed as he soaked up the attention.

Jess was in full matchmaker mode for her bestie, her intentions painfully obvious to anyone paying attention. She leaned closer to Mike, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that made him chuckle.

You had no reason to be jealous, not when you knew the truth. Not when you'd spent countless nights tangled up with him.

Watching him now, seeing him turn on that same charm for them to keep up the facade, still hurts in a way you couldn't quite describe.

You told yourself you understood why he acted this way, why he kept the two of you a secret. You'd seen the way people talked, how they whispered and stared whenever someone stepped outside the lines of what they considered normal.

You weren't ready for that, but that didn't make it any easier to sit here, watching him laugh and joke like nothing had ever happened between you.

Sometimes, in your weaker moments, you wished everyone else would know the way he looked at you when it was just the two of you. Maybe then you wouldn't have to sit here, watching him flirt with Jess and Emily like it was nothing.

A small, almost wicked smile curled on your lips as your thoughts betrayed you, pulling you into memories that no one else in the room could even begin to imagine. What would Jess and Emily say if they knew about the nights Mike would sneak into your room?

You could still feel his hands threading into your hair, tugging as his lips claimed yours in a kiss anything but polite.

His tongue would sweep against yours, hot and insistent, leaving you breathless and clinging to him.

And that low, desperate rasp of his voice as he pleaded with you to let him take you right there and then.

The room felt too warm now, the air too thick as you forced yourself to look away from the scene on the couch. You told yourself it was fine. This was the arrangement you'd agreed to. You told yourself that this was enough.

Even though it wasn't.

The kitchen was silent, save for the faint hum of the fridge. You leaned against the counter, nursing a beer that had long since lost its chill, swirling the amber liquid in lazy circles as you watched the bubbles rise, burst, and disappear.

You checked the clock again. 2:12 a.m. Mike had texted to meet him at 2. He wasn't here yet.

You hated how used to this you were. Loving Mike felt like holding onto smoke. You could feel it curling through your fingers, soft and warm, but it was always slipping away, impossible to grasp fully.

Still, you waited impatiently and finally, arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you back against a familiar warmth. Lips, hot and wet, pressed rapid-fire kisses to your neck and jaw.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice rough and breathless, the word catching against your skin as he kissed you again.

The tension melted from your body in an instant, replaced by that overwhelming warmth only he could bring. A smile broke across your face, unbidden and unstoppable, as your chest filled with that dizzying, beautiful ache.

"You're late," you murmured, your tone half-scolding but soft, the words barely audible over the sound of his lips trailing lower before he bit down lightly and sucked like a wolf savoring its prey.

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against your skin as he pressed his teeth lightly into the curve of your shoulder, biting down just enough to make you hiss.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his voice muffled by your flesh as his hand turned your face to meet his lips. "Had to make sure everyone was out cold. Can't have anyone interrupting us, can we?

His lips slammed against yours, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a bruising force. The sharp taste of whiskey mingling with the faint tang of beer still lingering on your tongue.

Hands hooked under your thighs, lifting you off the ground with a grunt and hauling you onto the counter, the cold surface shocking against your skin. His grip on your thighs tightened, rough and unyielding, as he spread your legs to step between them.

His mouth was on you again in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, messy and relentless. His stubble scratched against your skin, leaving a pleasant burn and his hands gripping hard enough to leave bruises.

You moaned softly against his mouth, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, to keep him where you needed him.

Mike's breath was warm and ragged against your neck as he pulled away, his lips brushing the shell of your ear with a husky whisper. "Path clear," he murmured, the words dipped in humor, a callback to the running joke the two of you shared during these secret, stolen moments.

Normally, it made you smile, but tonight, the reminder of your relationship's stealthy nature stung more than it amused.

You slid off the cold counter, his large hands steadying you by your hips. Without thinking, you reached for his hand and laced your fingers with his as you guided him toward your room.

Your thoughts swirled as you walked. The want you'd been carrying for months now sat heavy in your chest, threatening to spill over. You were tired of sneaking around, tired of pretending this was nothing more than casual fun. You wanted him, all of him in the open, without fear or pretense.

But with that hope came the sharp edge of fear that he wouldn't feel the same. The idea of losing him, of pushing him away by wanting too much, gnawed at you, silencing the words before they could even form.

Your thoughts were cut off when his hand slipped from yours to slide down to the curve of your ass, giving it a firm squeeze, a low chuckle coming from him as he pulled you closer, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you against him again and let his lips trail down to the side of your face.

You reached for the doorknob with trembling fingers, your breath hitching as his teeth scraped lightly against your pulse point.

By the time you pushed the door open and stepped inside, he kicked it shut behind him without missing a beat, his hands finding your waist again as he pressed you back against the wall. His lips were on yours instantly, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You clutched at his shoulders, your fingers digging into the soft fabric of his shirt as he pressed closer, his body pinning you to the wall.

But then you pulled back enough to break the kiss, your chest heaving as you dropped your hands to his. His grip loosened, allowing you to sank to your knees in front of him.

The air shifted, thick with anticipation as you looked up at him, his dark eyes blown wide and locked on yours. His hands twitched at his sides, his jaw tightening as he watched you reach for his belt, undoing the buckle and sliding the leather free before moving to the button and zipper of his jeans and tugging his pants down his hips. His boxers followed and your breath hitched as he sprang free, hard and already dripping with arousal.

His hand came to rest on your head, fingers curling lightly into your hair.

"You're fucking perfect like this," he murmured, his voice rough and dripping with heat, his thumb brushing against your scalp as if in encouragement.

You didn't respond. You couldn't. Your throat was tight with need as you leaned in, your lips parting to take him into your mouth. The first touch of your tongue against him drew a low, guttural groan from his throat, the sound vibrating in the air between you like a spark.

He tasted like salt and heat. Your tongue swirled around the tip, slow and deliberate, savoring the weight of him on your tongue as your hand gripped his thigh for balance.

Mike hissed through his teeth, his fingers tightening in your hair as you took him deeper, your lips stretching around him as you worked him with slow, deliberate precision. The texture of him was smooth and hot, the hardness of him pressing against the back of your throat as you hollow your cheeks.

"Shit, that's good," he muttered, his voice rough and strained as his hips rocked forward slightly. His free hand braced against the wall behind him, fingers flexing as he struggled to keep himself in check.

It spurred you on, your tongue pressing against the sensitive underside of his cock as you moved, your lips slick and swollen as you worked him over with unrelenting focus.

His breaths came heavier, more ragged, each exhale punctuated by a low groan or curse as you pushed him closer to the edge. You took him deeper, swallowing around him until he hit the back of your throat, the motion drawing a sharp gasp from him as his hips jerked forward.

"Just like that," he groaned, his hand tightening in your hair as his head tipped back, exposing the strong line of his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep from losing himself entirely.

Your mind spun, your thoughts a jumble of desperate emotions. You wanted him to see how devoted you were, how much you were willing to give him.

But more than that, you wanted him to let you in, to let the world see what you saw in these quiet, stolen moments. You wanted him to hold your hand in the daylight, to kiss you where anyone could see.

Mike leaned back against the wall, his head tipped back, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths as you worked him over.

He was lost in the heat of it, his world narrowing to the slick warmth of your mouth, every nerve alight with pleasure as you brought him closer and closer to the edge.

Something was bugging him.

He couldn't ignore the way your movements felt too precise and mechanical, like you were going through the motions rather than reveling in the moment.

His brow furrowed, hips faltering as he looked down at you. His body screamed for him to let it go, to keep chasing that high you were so good at giving him. But his brain had other plans.

Mike's fingers flexed in your hair, his jaw tightening as he tried to focus on anything but the gnawing unease creeping into his chest, biting his lip as another surge of pleasure rolled through him.

Your brows were slightly knit together like you were concentrating too hard, weren't looking up at him with that mixture of lust and devotion that always made his heart stutter.

Shit.

"Alright, hold up," he said suddenly, his voice rough as he tightened his grip on your hair and pulled you back.

Your lips left him with a wet, obscene sound, your eyes flicking up to meet his in confusion as you knelt there, your cheeks flushed and your lips swollen.

God, you looked so damn good like this. It took every ounce of composure not to just push you back down onto his aching dick.

"Yeah, sorry, I know," he said, letting out a strained, humorless laugh as he ran a hand through his hair. "Not that I don’t appreciate the A-plus performance down there, but seriously… the hell’s going on with you?"

You blinked at him, your brows furrowing slightly as you started to shake your head. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Bullshit," he shot back, his lips quaking into a lopsided grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're too quiet. Not in a sexy way, especially when you’re down there looking like you’re plotting an escape instead of sucking my dick."

"I'm not plotting anything," you said softly, avoiding his gaze as you moved to stand.

"Then what is it?" he pressed, his voice still light as he crouched slightly, his hands gripping your shoulders. "Talk to me, babe. Now it’s in my head and I can’t exactly enjoy myself. You're freaking me out a little here."

"I told you, I'm fine," you said again, more forcefully this time, though the crack in your voice betrayed you.

Mike's eyes narrowed, his smirk fading as he studied you. "No, you're not." His voice softened slightly, his hands moving to cup your face, tilting it upward until you had no choice but to look at him. "C'mon. Spill. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

You hesitated, your throat tightening as you tried to push the words back down, but his gaze was steady, warm and unrelenting, and before you knew it, the truth spilled out in a quiet, trembling voice.

"I'm tired of sneaking around."

His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but no sound came out. He let his hands fall to his sides, his fingers twitching restlessly before he dragged them through his messy hair. His expression was a mixture of surprise and guilt, and he let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh but there was no humor in it.

"Okay. Wow. That's… yeah." he said finally, his voice low and uneven.

"That's all you have to say?" you asked, your voice was sharper than you intended, but the frustration that had been building inside you for months refused to stay bottled any longer.

Mike flinched at your tone, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for just a second before he plastered on a lopsided grin. "I get it. You're right. Totally. But, uh…" He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "It's not like it's that simple, you know?"

"Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice tinged with anger and exhaustion. "You're either with me or you're not. You're either proud of us or you're not."

"Whoa, okay," Mike said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. His grin turned sheepish, but there was a flicker of guilt, maybe, or fear in his eyes.

"I didn't say I wasn't proud of us. Don't twist my words, alright?"

"Then what are you saying, Mike?" you asked, stepping closer, your voice dropping to a quieter, shakier tone. "Because I'm tired of feeling like I'm some dirty secret you're ashamed of."

"Ashamed of you?" he repeated, his eyes widening in genuine disbelief. "No. No way. That's not—Jesus, no." He let out a sharp, exasperated laugh.

"Then why, Mike?" you pressed, your voice breaking slightly. "Why do we have to sneak around like this? Why can't we just—"

"Because people talk," he interrupted, his tone sharper than he intended. He winced, rubbing a hand over his face before looking back at you. “Maybe they'll stop talking to me. Or you. Or both of us. Maybe it'll get weird with the group and we'll lose—"

"Them?" you interrupted, your voice rising. "You're more worried about losing them?"

"No! That's not what I'm saying," he snapped, his voice breaking slightly. "Stop twisting everything I'm trying to say."

"Then say it, Mike." You whispered through clenched teeth, your chest heaving as tears stung your eyes. "Say what you actually mean instead of hiding behind all this bullshit."

"I'm scared of what it'll mean if everyone knows. Of what we'll lose." He admitted, the words barely above a whisper. "But then I think about how you've put up with all my bullshit without ever asking for anything in return. And I hate that I've made you feel like you're not enough," he went on, his voice growing stronger, steadier.

His hands found your face, pulling you closer as his lips curved into a small, rueful smile. "You are fucking amazing. So, you know what?" He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours as his voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Fuck everyone else. Seriously. I don't care anymore. They're gonna know. All of them. Because you're mine and I'm not hiding it anymore."

Your chest tightened at his words, your breath hitching as tears slipped down your cheeks. Mike wiped them away with his thumbs, his touch gentle as he cupped your face.

"Soon," he said softly, his voice full of warmth and promise. "Soon, everyone's gonna know. I'll make sure of it."

The kiss that followed was as consuming as it was desperate, lips devouring yours. His hands were firm on your shoulders as he pulled you back on your feet and guided you onto the bed, his body following close behind. The weight of him was grounding, his solid chest and broad shoulders pinning you in place as his lips worked a path down your neck, each drag of his stubble leaving a pleasant burn in its wake.

His teeth scraped against the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, making you gasp. The sound only seemed to spur him on, his lips and tongue leaving the spot until it throbbed with a dull ache.

Your chest tightens with an overwhelming mix of love, relief and desire that coils tight in your stomach, threatening to snap.

When he pulled back, his lips were slick and swollen, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hand slipped lower, cupping the curve of your ass, the rough pads of his fingers squeezing hard.

"You're needy tonight," he teased, his grin sharp and wolfish. But the slight tremor in his voice betrayed just how much he was affected, too.

Your reply was cut off by the sound of your belt being unbuckled, the metal clanking loudly in the stillness of the room. Mike's movements were impatient as he yanked your pants down, leaving you exposed to the cool air. His hands were on you again in an instant, one gripping your thigh to spread you open while the other pressed firmly against your entrance.

His fingers pressed against you, teasing, before one finally slipped inside. The stretch was sudden, sharp, and you bit down on your lip to stifle a sound.

"Don't you dare hold back," Mike said, his free hand sliding up to grip your jaw. "Let me hear you, babe."

You couldn't help the soft whimper that escaped as he added a second finger, the stretch making your toes curl. He moved with purpose, his fingers scissoring and curling inside you, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

"Fuck," Mike hissed, his breath hot against your neck. "Still so goddamn tight. How is that even possible with how often I've been inside you?"

You had no answer, your brain too scrambled to form coherent words. Your back arched off the bed as his fingers pressed deeper, his pace quickening until the sound of his movements was obscene.

Just when you thought it couldn't get more intense, he shifted, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your chest and stomach until your length was engulfed in his hand with a firm grip. He stroked you in time with his fingers, his thumb swiping over the head to smear the precum leaking there.

His mouth replaced his hand soon, tongue swirling around the tip before he took you in, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked hard. The sensation made your whole body jerk, a shaky moan escaping your lips.

His mouth working you over with the same frantic energy as his fingers. Occasionally, he'd pull away to kiss the inside of your thighs or murmur something against your skin.

When he finally pulled his fingers free, you whimpered at the loss, but soon you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

His eyes met yours, searching for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded with zero hesitation and his lips twitched into a crooked grin.

He pushed in slowly, he was big and the feeling of him filling you completely burned in a way that made your breath hitch.

"Shit," Mike groaned, his voice strained as he bottomed out.

Mike didn't move at first, his hips flush against yours as you took the sheer, overwhelming weight of him inside you. His thick cock throbbed against your inner walls, stretching you wide.

"Fuck," Mike hissed, his voice low and broken, the curse dragged out like he could barely handle the way you gripped him.

The burn of the stretch began to fade, replaced by a maddening fullness that had your fingers digging into his shoulders.

He grunted, the sound deep and animalistic, his body trembling with restraint. "You feel that?" he growled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hands gripped your thighs tighter. "Feel how hard you make me? How much I want you?"

You could only nod, your head falling back against the pillow hissing through clenched teeth.

Mike's restraint snapped. He pulled back fully this time, the drag of his cock against your walls slow and deliberate, making you feel every ridge, every pulse. Then, with a sharp thrust of his hips, he buried himself again, harder, deeper.

The movement ripped a sound from your throat that you couldn't suppress. Mike's hand clamped down on your thigh, spreading you wider as he found a punishing rhythm, each thrust hitting a spot so deep and devastating that it made stars burst behind your eyes.

"Goddamn," he groaned, his voice raw and wrecked, his head dipping to press his lips to your throat. He bit down, his teeth scraping against your skin, and you arched into him, your hands clawing at his back, anything to keep yourself grounded.

Your walls tightened around him with every thrust. "I can feel you, babe. You're close, aren't you?" Mike murmured, his lips curling into a wolfish grin. He looked at you like you were a prey pinned beneath him, helpless yet tantalizingly willing to be devoured.

You tried to deny it, tried to hold back, but the relentless pace of his hips made it impossible. He adjusted his angle, tilting your hips up slightly.

Mike's voice was a guttural growl in your ear, vibrating through your entire body as his teeth skimmed the sensitive skin of your neck. "Say you're mine," he demanded, his breath hot and ragged, his lips brushing the shell of your ear with each word. The deep timbre of his voice shot straight through you.

You couldn't respond. The words were trapped in your throat, strangled by the relentless rhythm of his hips as he drove into you again and again.

"Isn't that what you want?" Mike's voice dipped lower, rough and edged with frustration. He nipped at your neck, his teeth scraping over your pulse point before biting down hard enough to leave a mark.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, hands clutching at the muscles there as you struggled to ground yourself. His cock filled you completely, the long, thick length of him stretching you.

"I asked you a question," he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His dark eyes were blown wide with lust, his jaw clenched tight as he watched your expression twist with pleasure all because of him.

"Stubborn," he said, almost to himself, his tone laced with dark amusement. "Guess I'll just have to fuck it out of you." He adjusted his angle slightly.

The next thrust hit so devastatingly deep, that your voice broke. His cock filled you completely with every thrust, the drag of him against your walls driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You tried to talk back but Mike thrust into you again before you could speak, rough and unrelenting. You bit down hard on his neck in retaliation.

Mike's reaction was immediate. A throaty grunt rumbled from his chest, the deep vibration rolling through your body as his thrusts became rougher, more erratic. "You wanna play like that?" he growled, his voice tinged with dark amusement. "Fine"

He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head as he loomed over you.

He chased your lips, kissing you with a bruising strength as his thrusts grew erratic, his pace quickening as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His cock dragged against your walls with every movement, the thick length of him filling you completely, relentlessly and forcing your body to adjust to the girth of him as he drove into you.

"You're so close," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. "I can feel it. You gonna come for me, babe?"

You could only nod, your head falling back as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until it finally broke. Your entire body tensing as you spilled over his hand and your stomach.

Mike wasn't far behind. The way you tightened around him as you came had his rhythm faltering, his movements becoming erratic. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained and guttural, his hips snapping against yours one final time as he buried himself deep.

You felt the heat of his release as he came, filling you completely, his body trembling against yours. His forehead pressed against your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm.

The bed creaked loudly beneath Mike's weight as he flopped down next to you, sprawling out like a man utterly spent. He let out a low groan of satisfaction, running a hand through his damp hair as he caught his breath. "I think I might've broken something… and I don't just mean the bed." He muttered, his voice still rough from the intensity of what had just happened.

You snorted, turning on your side to rest your head on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. His skin was warm and slightly sticky, but you didn't care. The comfort of his solid presence was enough to lull you into a blissful haze.

"You okay down there?" Mike asked, his tone light and teasing as his hand came up to rub slow circles on your back. "Or did I ruin you for life?"

You smirked against his chest, rolling your eyes even though he couldn't see it. "Pretty sure you ruined me the first time we did this. This is just the aftermath."

His laugh was loud and genuine, his chest shaking beneath you. "You're welcome, by the way." He said, his hand slipping lower to give your ass a playful squeeze.

You hummed, too content to come up with a snarky reply and closed your eyes as his fingers trailed up and down your spine.

"So," Mike said suddenly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence. "When do you wanna tell everyone about us? You know, the big reveal. 'Hey, everyone! I've been banging the hottest guy in the group and now he's with me, so hands off!’ That kind of thing."

Your face heated, but you couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of you. "Wow. Real subtle there, Mike."

"We gotta make it dramatic. Catch them off guard. Keep it spicy." He replied, his grin turning mischievous.

You raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"

Mike's eyes lit up with a devilish glint as he shifted to rest his hands behind his head. "Breakfast. Tomorrow morning. We wait until everyone's settled in, you know? Then, right as they're mid-sip or mid-bite, we drop the bomb."

You couldn't help but laugh at the image he was painting. "So your plan is to potentially choke someone with the news?"

"Exactly, fewer people to deal with if they can't breathe for a minute. It's efficient."

Shaking your head, you pressed a hand to his chest, giving him a mock shove. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, but you love me," he shot back, his grin softening just enough to let a hint of sincerity slip through.

You smiled despite yourself, the warmth in your chest spreading. "Unfortunately for me, yeah. I do."

Mike chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer. "Good. Because I'm not letting you go. Now, get some rest, babe. You're gonna need your energy for round two later."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest remained as you settled against him, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin.

[cece693]

Are You Sure It's Just A Childhood Friend?

pairing: hannigram x male reader tags: possessive hannigram, childhood friend, male reader is affectionate, hints of future violence, reader is blind to danger, part two (if it's desired)

This new FBI agent was getting on Hannibal and Will's nerves—a man who had Jack's relentless need to place the Chesapeake ripper behind bars would always be bothersome, but for the man to have some connection, a large one at that, to their beloved was an offense they couldn't overlook.

Childhood friend was the moniker you gave Nathan Carter—inseparable in school, sharing playdates on the weekends—but Hannibal, ever perceptive, noticed just how this pig looked at you. Devotion, hunger, lust. Emotions that drive people to extremes, ones which Hannibal knew all too well.

In the dim light of Hannibal’s office, Will paced, agitation evident in his taut shoulders and the sharp twitch of his jaw. The quiet hush of the room only magnified his irritation.

“He had the audacity to ask him out on a date,” Will growled, finally stopping to look at Hannibal. “You should’ve seen him, his eyes staring at him as if he hung the moon and stars. It was disgusting.”

Hannibal stood behind his desk, hands loosely clasped. He regarded Will with an almost unnerving calm, though a subtle tightening at the corners of his mouth betrayed a hint of displeasure. “And did he agree?” he asked evenly.

“No,” Will replied quickly, “thankfully we already made plans this weekend...but that’s beside the point. The fact that Nathan thought he could just swoop in like that—” His words cut off in a frustrated huff.

Hannibal inclined his head. “He certainly seems ambitious,” he commented drily. “I surmise our beloved does not realize the depth of Nathan’s intentions. He’s too kind, too eager to see the best in others.”

Will scowled. “Worse, he still thinks of Nathan as that same goofy kid from school—the one who’d share his lunch with him just to make him smile. He's oblivious to Nathan's feelings. How easily his infatuation can turn dangerous."

The corners of Hannibal’s mouth curved in the faintest, dangerous smile. “I do recognize obsession when I see it. And our dear friend is quite transparent: thinking a childhood promise can blossom into something more...blatantly ignoring the present reality.”

Will’s expression darkened. “He's trying to rip him away from us. I can’t stand the thought of that creep trailing after him, giving him that look, pressing him to go somewhere alone.”

Hannibal stepped around the desk, approaching Will with deliberate grace. The lamplight caught the angles of his face, lending him an almost predatory air. “Then we shall ensure Nathan respects boundaries,” His hand reached out to settle on Will’s neck, a quiet, grounding gesture.

Will allowed himself to be guided to the leather chair, though his restless energy kept him perched on the edge. “But how? We can't dispose of him like usual. It'll draw attention unto us." Will can't held but close his eyes, Hannibal's touch soothing his nerves and current anger.

“Yes, I suppose you're right," Hannibal mused with a cool glint in his eye, "Perhaps the best course of action is to show Nathan our beloved is unavailable. Maintain our usual routine as to prevent them spending unnecessary time alone. Dinner at my home, quiet weekends at Wolf Trap with you. Or we can always suggest new tasks for Carter—Jack is always eager to shift resources if it means more productivity on the Ripper case.”

Will brows furrowed. “If Nathan gets too close to the Ripper investigation, that might be dangerous for you.”

Hannibal laughed, a rich sound that immediately eased Will’s worries. “Men like Nathan rarely see beyond their own hearts and ambitions. I will handle him if he becomes a threat.”

“Fine,” Will replied, voice still tight. “But no extremes—yet. He wouldn’t forgive us if we did something drastic.”

Hannibal’s long finger played with the hair on Will’s nape, the gentle caress contrasting with the darker undercurrent in his voice. “Of course not,” he answered smoothly. “We shall be prudent.”

Will trusted Hannibal’s judgment, aware the man was planning something—not only to delay his capture by the FBI but also to keep Nathan from stealing their other half. The tension in Will’s jaw refused to dissipate, however, at the way Nathan pushed himself into your life. 

You weren’t at fault—your open-hearted warmth was part of your charm—but Nathan believed it meant more. That every casual hug translated into an invitation. That your bright smiles were solemn vows you’d forsake your lovers and marry him on the spot. It was pathetic. Unrealistic. Insulting.

Because what could Nathan give you that he or Hannibal hadn’t already? Who could love you more, revere you like a divine being stepping down to earth, and then devote themselves, body and soul?

"You're doing it again."

Will looked away from his boyfriend to Beverly, who had her arms crossed over her chest and wore a smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on.” Beverly rolled her eyes. “You’ve got that look. Like you’re imagining a hundred ways to chase off competition.”

Will shifted on his feet, an old defensive habit. “It’s not that,” he insisted, though his tone lacked conviction. “He’s just irritating.”

Beverly arched an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. You don’t do well with people who orbit too close to your inner circle, especially when that circle includes your boyfriends.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but Beverly raised a hand. “It’s so obvious, Will. And I can’t exactly blame you. Nathan’s a nice guy—polite, quick to help out—but there’s something off about him.” Her gaze flicked sideways, ensuring no one was listening.

“He’s infatuated. Not in the ‘oh, cute, a little crush’ way. More like obsessed.” She lowered her voice. “Even Jack’s noticed how he hovers around him.”

Will’s lips pressed into a thin line. Jack, too? So it wasn’t just Will’s own jealousy picking up on the danger. “He should back off,” he muttered. “I’ve tried to warn him, but he’s not getting it.”

Beverly shifted her weight, uncrossing her arms. “Have you told him how you feel? That you’re worried?”

He shrugged. “Not directly. Hannibal and I—we’ve both tried talking to him.” Will’s eyes fell on the tiles, suddenly anxious about revealing too much. “We don’t want to push him away by seeming controlling.”

Beverly gave a gentle snort. “Protective, controlling—sometimes there’s a thin line. I get it, though. You’re just worried. He's got a big heart, and Nathan’s using every ounce of that sympathy.”

Will exhaled, raking a hand through his curls. “You’ve seen how affectionate he is—always has been. Nathan’s reading way too much into it.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Beverly replied. “Look, I thought you should know: Nathan asked me earlier for advice on how he could ‘make a grand gesture’ to prove himself.” She paused, watching the way Will’s eyes darkened. “It sounded…extreme.”

His jaw clenched. “Dammit.”

“Relax, or try to,” Beverly said softly. “If Nathan crosses a line, I’ll have your back. Just…keep an eye on him. The last thing we need is some unhinged agent making trouble.”

Will nodded, gratitude and worry warring on his face. “Thanks, Bev.”

She gave him a warm pat on the shoulder before turning to leave. “Don’t mention it. Just keep your head, Will. No crazy stunts. You know how Jack hates drama in the workplace.”

Will watched her go, mind whirling. He couldn’t banish the mental image of Nathan taking some drastic action to ‘win’ you over. He swallowed hard, pushing off the wall and heading towards his office to notify Hannibal about the recent revelation. They tried to resolve this peacefully, but it only seems that violence will teach Nathan not to encroach on what's his.

[marrziy]

"Queria que ele me engravidasse 3 vezes me abandonasse sozinho e se recusasse a pagar pensão pros nossos filhos pra eu ir na casa dele fazendo barraco quebrando tudo e ele me puxar pelo braço me levar pra um canto e me engravidar pela quarta vez"

[bumblesimagines]

Muses

Request: Yes or No

Summary: (Y/N) never expected his life to turn out the way it did.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Fellow Travelers warnings, brief sexual content, mentioned/implied homophobia, era typical bs, mention of the AIDS crisis, Hawk is lowkey a warning himself 💀, more of a concept

he is so babygirl. divider by cafekitsune

~~~

"Would you mind if I drew you?"

Those were the first words (Y/N) spoke to Tim Laughlin the day they met at Lafayette Park under the keen eyes of Hawkins, the words of the smooth-talking man still ringing in his ears. It's nothing, Hawk had muttered to him as they strolled through the park toward the man with his nose buried in a book, you owe me a favor, remember? Just tell me what he tells you about the senator.

Tim was an interesting fellow. He was fidgety, at times, and with a habit of rambling so quickly (Y/N) barely caught what he was saying before he finished. Something was endearing about him: he continued adjusting his light gray sweater vest and smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his sleeves, the dark eyes hidden behind his round glasses bouncing around in a spout of nerves. He was so blatantly self-aware of himself, of every movement he made, likely hyper-aware of each breath he took. It was cute. 

"Tim." (Y/N) called out softly, biting back a chuckle to avoid embarrassing the man as he lifted the tip of his pencil from the page. He'd only managed to begin a vague outline with Tim constantly moving between positions on the stool with an air of indecisiveness and awkwardness. 

Tim perked up and turned his head toward him, his eyes wide and lips barely parted to show his teeth. He reminded (Y/N) of a fawn, a little creature making its way through the world unaware of the predators watching from the shadows. No wonder Hawk wasted no time sinking his teeth into him. He was the perfect prey.

"Y-Yes?" Tim pushed his glasses up with his index finger and straightened his back, carefully scooting around the stool to face him entirely. His palm ran over his sleeves again and his fingers curled around the cuffs, tugging on them lightly. "Should I do something different? Should- Should I take off my glasses?" 

(Y/N) couldn't help the amused smile that stretched across his lips when Tim hurriedly took his glasses off, a giggle vibrating in his throat before he set aside his sketchbook and stood up to approach him. He leaned down toward him and gingerly pried the glasses from his fingers, the smile widening as he slid the glasses over Tim's nose. The back of his fingers brushed along Tim's cheek until they hooked under his chin and tilted his head up, those eyes of his widening even further.

"I like the glasses." (Y/N) told him softly and brushed his thumb over Tim's lip, briefly revealing the row of perfect white teeth, before he stepped away. "I like everything about you."

There was a silent dance to flirtation, or seduction as others viewed it. One had to be careful with the types like Tim; nervous, doe-eyed, eager yet pious and always ready to dart between the pews of their church and stutter through a rushed prayer when they grew overwhelmed. They were like dogs being trained dancing the line between order and instinct, their bodies vibrating with urges and nerves but their legs kept them glued to their spots. 

Men like Tim were as dangerous as men like Hawk or the sleazy politicians Hawk surrounded himself with. Men like Hawk wore confidence and swagger like a coat; casually and without a care in the world. Until they were backed into a corner and they were quick to toss the coat from their shoulders, holding onto it with clammy, desperate hands while the cowardness beneath reared its head. Men like Hawk kept their enemies close and with downcast eyes tossed their friends to the wolves to cover their own asses.

Men like Tim, jumpy and alert yet somehow oblivious and naive, walked the thin line between fighting like hell to keep their morals to them and squawking at the first sight of trouble. When things grew hard or overwhelming or emotional, they raced to their priest and confessed to everything they'd done without a second thought to their safety. Most priests kept things to themselves, but they too pointed fingers when trouble came knocking.

Tim was easy enough to coax with a few gestures, evident in how his eyes followed (Y/N) around his office-turned-studio. Like a fish who didn't know any better, he'd taken the bait. He was sweet, too, and it was something Hawk had taken swift advantage of.

"Are you- I mean, you're-"

"Queer?" (Y/N) laughed and glanced at him over his shoulder, picking up his pencil and sharpening it. "Yes, I am."

"Have... have you and Hawk-"

"Once, twice... I didn't let there be a third time." He blew on the tip of the pencil and ran his fingertip over it to ensure it was smooth, a streak of dark gray rubbing against his finger. He tilted his body to peer at Tim. "You should be wary of Hawk and his charms." 

Tim swallowed and rose, his hand shooting backward to stabilize the stool when it wobbled without his weight pinning it down. "Should I be wary of you?" He asked softly, strands of his combed-back hair falling over his forehead. His shoes clicked against the tile floors, each step small and cautious.

(Y/N) grinned and set the pencil down along the spine of his sketchbook, allowing Tim to draw closer. "Maybe." 

Tim was full of indecisiveness, a constant dance between growing nervous and surging with confidence. He kissed with a familiar hunger, a familiar insistent need that left him pressing his lips hard against (Y/N)'s and knocking his glasses askew over his nose. His hands battled between pulling him closer until they were flush together and releasing his hold in fear of overstepping.

(Y/N) chuckled against his mouth, and chuckled again when they pulled apart and he took in the fog around the rim of Tim's glasses from the heat in his cheeks. For the sake of not damaging them, he plucked the glasses from Tim's face and set them aside after tucking the arms, mindful of where he placed them before returning his attention to Tim. 

Tim reminded him of a teenager, all desire and no straight thinking. His lips pressed scattered kisses along (Y/N)'s jawline and cheekbones, his crinkling arms wrapping around him loosely and hands tugging at the hem of his button-up. Hawk must've left him high and dry; he always did love the ones desperate for attention, and then he'd complain when they grew clingy.

"Easy, Tim." (Y/N) smiled, his thumb pressing into Tim's chin to still his quick movements. His flushed cheeks and messy strands made (Y/N)'s heart seize uncomfortably. He was undeniably pretty. "I still have to do your portrait, don't I? Hawk's looking forward to seeing it."

"Hawk calls me Skippy." Tim sounded breathless. Did he want to make Hawk jealous? (Y/N) pitied him if he did. Emotional ties were never Hawk's thing.

"I'm not calling you that." (Y/N) snorted and his thumb moved so he could firmly grasp Tim's jaw in his hand while he reached for his sketchbook with the other. "I think I'll call you.. Muse."

His bedroom was more comfortable than the studio. While the smell of paints had become as familiar to him as cigarette smoke, he much preferred the cinnamon-scented candles he always kept lit in his bedroom, though he often had to keep his cat away from them. The aroma added to the warmth from the golden hue of the setting sun and the song playing on his radio, though his ears were more focused on the muffled noises and determined huffs from Tim.

(Y/N) gazed at the sketch, though it was still rough linework over something to be admired. He'd managed to get a vague outline of Tim's face and shoulders, his neat hair that slightly swooped over his hairline and his brows that were almost always in a concentrated or confused furrow. He grasped the underside of his sketchbook with one hand and pinched the pencil between two knuckles before moving the sketchbook out of view to peer down at Tim. 

He'd settled nicely between (Y/N)'s legs, his bare arms hooked under (Y/N)'s thighs and palms pressed into his skin. A foamy ring had formed at the base of (Y/N)'s shaft, each bob from Tim's head leaving a glistening sheen behind. He raked his fingers through Tim's hair, scratching his scalp with his blunt nails and watching him shudder before he gave him a light tug. Tim's eyes flickered up to his face, water accumulated in them but not enough to slip down his reddened cheeks. 

(Y/N) smiled. "You look pretty like this." 

Tim gave a soft grunt in return, his hands keeping (Y/N)'s hips from bucking too much at the vibrations yet his own dug into the mattress feverishly. (Y/N) took a moment to sketch out his attentive eyes, including the way his pupils dilated, and then moved down to sketch the slope of his nose where he waited for Tim's nostril to stop flaring with each deep inhale.

Once satisfied, he tugged on Tim's head and listened to the soft pop! that followed, his teeth digging into his bottom lip at the sight of Tim's raw, spit-covered lips. Tim took a deep gulp of air and then gave a small cough, his hand raising to wipe at his mouth as he moved back onto his knees. His whole body was flushed, and a certain part of him begged for attention. 

Pressing the sketchbook against Tim's chest, (Y/N) near effortlessly flipped them over and left the sketchbook on top of him as he adjusted Tim's legs to his liking. He reached toward his nightstand and rolled the volume dial on his radio so the sound of trumpets and the velvety voice of the singer filled the room more clearly, his lips quirking when Tim's chest rose and fell quicker with anticipation. 

The sketchbook and pencil nearly slid off Tim's chest when his back arched, keens and garbled words falling from his lips as (Y/N) bullied his way past the tight ring of muscle that he'd already teased and explored with experienced fingers. Hawk was a pain to deal with and a walking heartbreak, but he'd taught (Y/N) plenty of things. 

He took the pencil in his hand again and readjusted the sketchbook, amused at the way Tim fought to catch his breath again. His fingers trembled slightly but he managed to keep a steady hand sketching his neck, the adams apple that kept bobbing, and his shoulders before pining the pencil to the spine and shutting the sketchbook. He set it aside on the nightstand and focused his full attention on the wriggling man beneath him.

One of his hands found Tim's and he laced his fingers with his while the other gripped Tim's thigh hard enough to leave red imprints behind. He understood Hawk more than he liked to admit; there was something addicting to having control over someone else's body. He leaned down to kiss him, swallowing the cries and incoherent babbles he released when he began snapping his hips.

Their bodies melded and moved together, the hairs across Tim's chest tickling (Y/N)'s skin as they shared hot air and felt more sweat begin to accumulate. He pressed his forehead against Tim's and soaked in his scrunched-up features, grinning at his quivering lips and giving them a nip that elicited a throaty whine. Tim clung onto him as if his life depended on it, his name coming out in rushed huffs and nails digging half-moons into his shoulders and back. 

(Y/N) kissed him again. He could get addicted to his new muse.

The sound of panting, skin slapping against skin, and mumbled pleas were nothing new to (Y/N), but he always enjoyed observing how others reacted to pleasure. He captured it occasionally in his work, always ensuring to turn masculine features more feminine in case anyone felt prompted to search his things for any hint of being a 'deviant'. Tim released a choked gasp and his back arched again, tightening deliciously before warm liquid coated their abdomens. 

(Y/N)'s hand moved from his thigh and crept up to Tim's shoulder before wrapping carefully around his throat, a spark appearing in Tim's half-lidded eyes as he continued to spurt and twitch untouched. His fingers gave an experimental squeeze and Tim fluttered around him, nudging him closer to his own release. 

"Am I-" Tim gasped. "-pretty now?"

(Y/N) laughed breathily. "The prettiest."

The steam in the bathroom oozed out into the bedroom, water droplets splattering on the carpet when (Y/N) followed the steam with the wet towel in hand. He scanned the room and found the familiar face who often enjoyed lingering around for another hour or two missing, though he could only assume Tim had more important duties in the morning after his promotion. He'd call and pout about it later and listen to Tim's chuckles about making it up to him.

Tossing the towel aside to be washed along with the rest of his laundry, (Y/N) slipped on some briefs and sleepwear before stepping out into the hallway. He'd picked the townhouse due to the history etched into its walls, the aged look it had fitting with the creations he spent days and weeks painting. Oil paintings of landscapes and portraits of people he met over the years, some fresh and others old. Paintings akin to works of the likes of Claude Monet, Vincent van Gogh, and Pierre Montezin. 

He found serenity in nature, found it more comforting and nurturing than humans.

The stairs creaked as he descended them but before he could head toward the kitchen for a glass of water, a rapid succession of knocks came from his front door. His heart surged with anxiety and panic immediately, pure instinct after all the crackdowns on 'deviants' in workplaces and the club raids, but he forced his heart to calm itself.

It's probably Tim, he assured himself and approached the door, he probably forgot something.

(Y/N) spared a glance around the room for Circe and when he was confident she was nowhere near the door, he opened it, the teasing smile that'd worked its way onto his face disappearing at the sight of Hawk standing on his doorstep. He barely uttered a hello before stepping inside, lifting his fedora from his head and smoothing back any raven locks that went astray. 

"No calls, no letters. I'm beginning to think you've deserted me." Hawk spoke, his clothes smelling like cigarette smoke and faintly of the whiskey he enjoyed drinking after work. His vibrant blue eyes looked over the small, cluttered living room. It irked him how comfortable Hawk looked as if he were right at home. "Or perhaps, replaced me."

Scoffing, (Y/N) shut the door before the idea of slipping out into the night crossed his cat's mind and folded his arms over his chest. He was like a damn virus, always appearing when you least expected it. "Why do you care, Hawk? You value keeping your ass out of trouble more than anything. I'm sure plenty of fools at the Cozy Corner are keeping you occupied, or the senator's daughter, at that. I hear there's a romance brewing."

"You know I have to be careful in my line of work. Haven't you heard?" Lines formed between Hawk's brows, annoyed and perhaps offended. He wondered what Lucy Smith would think of it all.

"Of course, I have." (Y/N) sighed, his fingers working on his temple to soothe away a headache. Hawk always affected him, whether it was giving him a migraine or making his heart flutter. He preferred the former. "Tim mentioned what happened to Mary. I can't imagine what she's going through, poor girl."

"Tim." Hawk echoed, his lips curling up in a false smile and his thumb rubbing over the edges of his hat. He wore confidence like a mask but (Y/N) could see the emotions slipping through the corners. He was more than acquainted with the look of harrowing loneliness, and it lay heavily in Hawk's eyes. "He hasn't been calling either. I never expected you two to get so close."

"You don't get to come in and pretend as if you're here for anything other than sex." (Y/N) gave a mocking, short laugh and his fingers dug tightly through the fabric covering his arms. Anger slammed into his chest like a kick and rippling bitterness followed its heels, leaving his body hot and twitching with contained emotion. 

Hawk steeled his expression with practiced ease. "I'm the reason you can afford to live here, the reason you have buyers and commissions-"

"Don't act as if half of those buyers weren't sent my way so you could use me to get information out of them, Hawk. You think I wouldn't notice you only ever send men you know are interested in more than just a painting?" His brows raised, and much to his dismay, his voice trembled.

"You know you were never forced to do anything you didn't want." Hawk's voice softened, yet it sounded patronizing to his ears. (Y/N) knew him too well, seen his acts and smooth-talking charades far too often to feel anything other than bubbling irritation in his veins. There'd been a time when he might've allowed Hawk to talk him down, but those times were long gone.

"Fuck you." (Y/N) snapped and Hawk flinched. "If you're not here for sex, then why are you here?"

Hawk stared at him, the tension in his jaw slowly vanishing. He inhaled heavily and reached out toward him to touch his cheek but (Y/N) leaned away, leaving his fingers to curl and a soft sigh to leave him. "I wanted to see you. I.. I missed you. I missed your face, your voice, your touch. I miss watching you paint and laugh."

"Well, I don't want to see you anymore, Hawk. What we had was fun but..." The words halted in his throat, an admission he hadn't yet fully processed waiting to finally be acknowledged. But not in front of Hawk.

"But what? You prefer others- Tim? Are you even being careful? His job can fall into risk and you-"

"You think you're smarter than everyone else, Hawk, but I'm not an idiot. I know what's at risk. He knows what's at risk. You love to pretend you have so much more freedom than everyone else yet you constrict yourself in every way possible. You and I both know you'll end up marrying Lucy Smith to keep yourself out of the line of fire and in Senator Smith's safe arms. You'll end up knocking her up with who knows how many kids and you'll live the little American dream while rotting inside."

"Excuse me-"

"Am I interrupting something?" 

Their attention snapped to Tim standing in the archway leading into the kitchen, a cup of milk in hand and wide eyes flickering between the two of them. A sense of relief swept through (Y/N)'s body, one that intensified when Tim addressed Hawk with one of his furrowed brow frowns. His eyes dropped down to Circe, watching the cat rub herself along Tim's legs yet turn her nose up at the sight of Hawk. 

"I think you should go," Tim told him firmly, but with a cup of milk in hand and the hint of a milk mustache glistening over his top lip, he hardly looked intimidating. Still, (Y/N) wanted nothing more than to cozy up to his side and kiss the air right from his lungs. "You're not wanted here." 

Hawk blinked. "Skippy-" 

"Go, Mr. Fuller." Tim slotted himself between the two and motioned for the door, his fingers turning white from how tightly he gripped his cup. 

A tense silence filled the air between the three, only broken by a quiet mew from Circe reminding him it was time for her second and last meal of the day. Hawk's eyes tore away from flickering between the two to drop onto the fuzzy cat, his lips twisting up when she continued nuzzling against Tim but pointedly avoided his legs. He'd tried once or twice to earn her trust, both times futile. 

Uncharatiscally, Hawk gave up the battle and placed his hat over his head again. He turned toward the door, his hand wrapping around the knob. "Marcus mentioned you were thinking of going to San Francisco," He said suddenly, looking back at them but mostly at Tim to gauge his reaction. Tim's brows inched upward. Hawk offered a half-grin. "Good luck." The door rattled shut with his exit.

Bastard. He always had to leave a mark.

"You're going to San Francisco?" Tim asked softly, twisting around to face him while carefully avoiding stepping on Circe as the mass of fur dramatically draped herself over (Y/N)'s feet, another demanding meow leaving her. They both ignored her which only prompted another, much longer meow. 

"It's just suffocating here, Tim." (Y/N) rubbed his shoulder, hoping to ease some of the tension that'd formed. "I tolerated it 'cause I had no real choice but I have more money now. I want to live by the beach and- and not have to worry about offending some politician. I thought Washington would have more to offer but it's... dull." 

"What about me?" Tim looked like a child, feet shuffling and brows together with faint sadness. 

(Y/N) smiled and leaned forward, kissing the corner of his lip. "You're perfect, Tim." Tim's cheeks flushed and he pressed his lips together to contain the bashful smile. "We can write to each other and we can try to visit. Things won't be the same but-"

"What if I went with you? Permanently- Like, we move together and live close to each other?" (Y/N) stared at him in surprise. "San Francisco has government jobs, too. I'm sure there'll be ties to Senator McCarthy-"

"I can't ask you to do that, Tim." 

Tim shook his head and set his cup aside on the accent table by the stairs before taking (Y/N)'s hands into his. Circe made a noise of complaint beneath them but only stretched out further. "I want to. I want to be with you. I-I want to keep waking up at your side and- and I want to keep eating breakfast with you. I want to keep dancing to romance songs and getting lunch. I'll never find someone who treats me like you do, who makes me feel what I feel for you."

A heat crept up (Y/N)'s shoulders and neck, covering his face and ears. His heart hammered in his chest and his hands suddenly felt clammy and sweaty, fidgeting in Tim's hold. Was this the love poets always wrote about?

"I..." (Y/N) gave a small chuckle, feeling delirious. "I want that, too."

Light assaulted his eyes and he quickly squeezed them shut, half-contemplating rolling over and burying his face into the pillow. He did just that, rolled over and tossed his arm out, but instead of feeling a sleeping body, he felt the mattress. His mouth formed a pouty frown and he squinted through blurry vision, blinking a few times until he was gazing at an empty bed. His eyes slid to the wall.

Tim was so stubborn.

With a heavy sigh, he forced himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rising. His weary body groaned in protest, reminding him he was no longer in his twenties or thirties when his back ached, but he ignored it in favor of stretching before making his way to the bathroom. No sign of Tim either. He spared the army of pill bottles a glance before relieving himself in the toilet and brushing his teeth. 

Sticking his feet into his slippers, he journeyed out of their bedroom and into the living room yet found no sign of his insistent partner. He brought two fingers to his lips and then down to Circe's box, muttering a soft greeting to his late feline friend as he passed by the drawer and peeked into the kitchen. There, standing in front of the coffeemaker, was Tim who leaned most of his weight on his cane and stared distantly at the coffee brewing. 

He took a moment to watch him, to drink in his floppy brown strands with streaks of silver and the wrinkles that formed with age across his skin. His eyes crinkled at the sight of the big round glasses perched on his nose before they dropped down to the slightly trembling hand clutching the cane. An accident in the bathroom. Even simple falls now impacted them more than they would've when they were in their twenties.

"I should drag you back to bed." (Y/N) clicked his tongue and rubbed leftover sleep from his eye, unable to stop himself from smiling when Tim rolled his eyes at his words yet tilted his head for a kiss on the cheek. (Y/N) gave him one, hard just to let him know he hadn't appreciated waking up alone but Tim only smiled. 

"I'm making coffee."

"Yeah?" (Y/N) teasingly grinned. "I hadn't noticed."

Tim rolled his eyes again, affection in his tender gaze as he watched him shuffle around their small kitchen. "My sister's coming by in the evening to drop off some groceries. I thought we could take a stroll around town. Maybe visit some friends? I know you can't bear to see them while they're- they're sick but they need us."

"I know." (Y/N) exhaled deeply through his nose and pulled a box of cereal free from their pantry. The epidemic ran rampant in their community and their government turned a blind eye to the suffering, as cold and uncaring as they'd been in his younger years. "I'll mention it to Marcus. It's been a while since the three of us went somewhere together." 

Tim turned to him and approached with the hint of a limp, his head coming to rest on (Y/N)'s shoulder. He smiled tenderly and (Y/N) melted against him, inhaling the smell of mint toothpaste and soap still clinging to him. "We can go to the beach, too. It's a beautiful day to paint the waves." He murmured and pushed his glasses further up his nose, head tilting to the array of drawings (Y/N) had done of him throughout the years.

"Sounds wonderful, sweetheart."

[carnalcrows]

PUNISHMENT - HYUNJU

pairing: professor!hyunju x ftm!reader

synopsis: Math isn't the only thing that's hard.

content warnings: 18+, teacher x student, blowjob, pre-transition hyunju, face fucking, slight choking, facial

word count: 1.4k

The lecture hall was eerily quiet as the last of your classmates filed out, their chatter fading into the hallway. You stayed behind, clutching your bag strap tightly, watching as Professor Hyunju erased the board with calm, methodical strokes. The squeak of the chalk against the surface was still fresh in your ears, the sound mixing with the rapid beat of your heart.  

You’d known this conversation was coming. Her sharp eyes had been following you all semester, and not just in the way that professors check in on their struggling students. There was something in her gaze—something that made your stomach flip, even as you avoided eye contact. You couldn’t decide if it was intimidation, curiosity, or something darker that kept your nerves on edge every time she called your name in class.  

“Wait here,” she had said earlier, her tone even but leaving no room for argument. It wasn’t a request.  

Now, you stood awkwardly by the door, your feet refusing to move any closer. She hadn’t said much else, letting the silence grow heavy as she finished erasing the board and organized her papers into a neat stack. The tension was suffocating, the space between you filled with all the words you were too afraid to say.  

Finally, she turned to face you, leaning casually against her desk, arms crossed over her chest. Her sharp, fitted blazer and pencil skirt made her look more like a corporate CEO than a college professor. Her presence was commanding, the kind that drew your eyes even when you didn’t want to look.  

“Close the door,” she said simply, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.  

You hesitated for a moment, then obeyed, the click of the door shutting making you flinch. When you turned back to her, her gaze was fixed on you—steady, unwavering, and entirely unreadable.  

“You know why you’re here,” she said, her tone calm but tinged with disappointment.  

You swallowed hard, nodding. “I’m failing.”  

“Failing doesn’t begin to cover it,” she replied, raising an eyebrow. “You’re barely scraping by, and if this keeps up, you won’t pass my class—or this semester.”  

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, even though you already knew the truth. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.  

“I… I’m trying,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.  

“Are you?” she asked, her sharp tone cutting through your feeble excuse. “Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it.”  

You flinched, your gaze dropping to the floor. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been trying, but between juggling other classes, working part-time, and dealing with the weight of everything else in your life, something had to give. Unfortunately, it had been this class—and she wasn’t letting you forget it.  

Her heels clicked softly as she stepped closer, the sound echoing in the empty room. You froze as the scent of her faint perfume wafted toward you, a subtle mix of floral and spice that made your head spin.  

“You’re capable of so much more,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “But you’re not putting in the effort. That’s not just disappointing—it’s unacceptable.”  

The way she said it, her words laced with both criticism and something almost… personal, made your throat tighten. You hated how small you felt under her gaze, like you were back in high school, getting scolded by a teacher. But this wasn’t high school, and she wasn’t just any teacher.  

Hyunju had a presence that couldn’t be ignored, a charisma that made her stand out even in a room full of people. It was more than her looks—though you’d be lying if you said her sharp features, immaculate style, and piercing eyes didn’t make your chest tighten every time you saw her. It was the way she carried herself, the quiet confidence that demanded respect and made you want to prove yourself to her, even if you weren’t sure why.  

And now, standing here alone with her, that presence was overwhelming. It pressed against you, making the room feel smaller, making it impossible to think straight.  

“Do you want to fix this?” she asked, her voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.  

You nodded quickly, desperate to end the suffocating silence. “Yes. I do. I’ll do better, I promise.”  

Her lips curved into a faint smile, but it wasn’t comforting. If anything, it made your heart race for all the wrong reasons. She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving yours, and you felt your knees weaken under the weight of her attention.  

“Good,” she murmured. “Because I’d hate to think you were wasting my time.”  

Her words lingered, heavy with something unspoken, as the air between you grew charged. You couldn’t look away from her, even as every instinct screamed at you to run. This wasn’t just a lecture anymore—it was something far more dangerous.  

She stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the tiled floor. The scent of her perfume—something subtle but intoxicating—filled the air, and you suddenly found it hard to breathe.  

“You don’t take yourself seriously,” she continued, her voice dropping to a softer, almost teasing tone. “And that makes me wonder… should I take you seriously?”  

Your eyes snapped up to meet hers, your heart racing at the implication in her words. There was something in her gaze now, something darker, something… playful.  

“I-I’m trying,” you stammered, your words faltering under her piercing stare.  

“Are you?” she asked, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been waiting for someone to put you in your place.”  

Her words hung in the air, charged and heavy, and you felt your knees weaken. She took another step forward, close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from her.  

“Do you want me to put you in your place?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes boring into yours.  

Your breath hitched, and before you could think, you nodded.  

That was all she needed. Her hand shot out, gripping your chin firmly but not painfully, tilting your face up to hers. “Good,” she murmured, her breath ghosting over your lips. “Then pay attention.”  

Her lips crashed against yours, and for a moment, the world stopped. Her kiss was fierce, commanding, leaving no room for hesitation or doubt. You melted against her, your bag slipping from your shoulder as your hands found her waist.  

She didn’t pull away, deepening the kiss instead, her other hand threading through your hair and tugging just enough to make you gasp. The sound seemed to please her because she smirked against your lips before pulling back, her eyes blazing with satisfaction.  

“You do want your grades to improve, yes?”, she daunted, her gaze never leaving yours.

“Yes professor,” you mumbled, eyes staring up into her own.

Wordlessly, she pulled up her skirt and slid down her panties to reveal her aching cock. You marveled at the sight before she gently pushed you onto your knees.

With a look of understanding, you took her length in your hands, slowly pumping it up and down before giving kitty licks to the angry red tip.

You slowly wrapped your lips around the head, before trying to take her whole. Your hand fondled over the parts that your mouth couldn’t reach, while your other hand went to the hem of your waistband, sliding through your boxers to reach your leaking cunt.

As you took her deeper in your throat, you rubbed circles over your clit frantically, trying to bring a release to you both.

When you finally managed to swallow her whole, she let out a breathy moan before grabbing you hair and moving your head back and forth herself.

“Breathe through your nose m’love, that’s it…”she cooed, gazing lovingly at your watering eyes.

Soon, she felt herself at the brink of a climax, so she released the grip on your hair, only for her to come undone all over your face, strings of pearly white essence sticking to you. Your ministrations over your clit had worked, making you arch your back as you came with a loud groan, staining your boxers.

The professor gently but firmly held your chin, forcing you to face her.

“Maybe now you’ll start listening,” she teased, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “You’ll do better, won’t you?”  

You nodded breathlessly, the words catching in your throat.  

“Good,” she said, stepping back but not before trailing her fingers along your jawline. “Because if you don’t, we’ll have to do this again. And next time, I won’t be so forgiving.”  

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[starboye]

boss!price who gets a new pretty little assistant and it just happens to be you, you looked so good in those pants that hugged every part of your ass so well and he wanted to feel it

always touching you a little to long in places that would violate so many hr department rules but he didn't care, he wanted to get in those pants one way or another and one day he finally did, everyone was gone for the night leaving only you and him in his office getting some paper work done

he had asked you to get him some coffee and within minutes you were putting it on his desk before he grabbed your hand and pulled you onto his lap "why not keep an old man company yeah" he lowly said moving his hand to your inner thigh and to your crotch where he was a little confused

he didnt feel a bulge but slickness seeping through your pants "and what's this" he didn't seem to be against it as long as he could fuck you "why dont you find out yourself" you kissed him and in no time you were splayed across his desk taking his fat cock

taking him balls deep and moaning about how good it felt while his fingers played with your clit, rubbing it intensely to give you more pleasure until you were a shaking mess begging him to give you a break but there was no stopping a man like price so you just pushed through each orgasm

"mmm captain you feel you fucking good" you whimpered and oh good gad did that do something to him hearing you pull rank on him had his cock slamming into you harder than before and abusing your precious little cunt until it couldn't take it anymore

even then you don't think he was really gonna let you go that easy, nope he needs one more taste, knelled in front of your leaking pussy before diving in, licking and lapping at it and eating out every drop of cum he fucked into you

your hands tightly held in prices hair tugging at it for him to go deeper, your thighs clasping around his head and squeezing enough to cut off oxygen for a couple of minutes but that still doesn't mean he stops, he's got a mission and he'l be damned if he stops before finsihing it

but it's safe to say your co-workers definitely noticed your limp the next day and the copious amounts of breaks you were spending with price

[fandomnerd9602]

"What if...." Toni stark introduced Peter parker to YN and they both bond over being so nerdy (being into starwars,movies,video games,etc)

Tony: Peter, this is Y/N - my son

Peter: dude! Is that a Revenge of the Jedi shirt?!

Y/N: replica of the infamous poster yeah!

Peter: dude! Wait! Is that a thermal coupler?!

Y/N: I was gonna add it to my suit for enhanced power output. Wanna help me?

Peter: yeah! D-did we just become bros?

Y/N: science bros for life!!!

The two run off excitedly…

Tony:

Bruce: I thought we were the Science Bros.

[elryuse]

Suzy x Male Reader

Smut, Actress has an infatuation with a younger childhood friend

Always On My Mind

Bae Suzy X Male Reader

Tags : Childhood Friends, Vanilla Sex, Extra Intimate and Passionate, Sweaty Sex, Kissing, Romance Words : 4,982 Words

You always called her Noona. Ever since you could remember, Suzy was a constant in your life—a beacon of warmth and comfort. She was two years older, always smiling, always teasing, and always looking out for you. Her black hair framed her delicate features, and her voice carried the kind of assurance only an older sibling—or someone who cared deeply—could muster.

"Noona, wait up!" you called as she walked ahead of you on the way home from school.

Suzy turned, her lips quirking up into a soft smile. "You’re too slow, Y/n. At this rate, I’ll have to carry you home!"

"You’re only saying that because you like showing off," you grumbled, your face flushed from running to keep up.

"Maybe," she said with a wink, "but it’s my job as your Noona to take care of you, isn’t it?"

That’s how it had always been. She was the big sister you never had, but somewhere deep down, you also knew she was something more.

It was a Saturday afternoon, the sky overcast but dry. You were sitting in the small park near your neighborhood, kicking pebbles while Suzy sat on the swing beside you.

“I have to tell you something,” she said softly, her voice lacking its usual playful lilt.

“What is it, Noona?”

She looked at you, her dark eyes full of something you couldn’t quite place—regret, sadness, and maybe a touch of excitement. “I’m leaving. Next week.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. “Leaving? Why?”

“I got accepted into an idol training program in Seoul,” she explained, her hands gripping the swing’s chains tightly. “It’s a huge opportunity for me, Y/n. You understand, right?”

You didn’t understand. Not at all. All you knew was that Suzy was leaving, and the thought of it made your chest ache. “But… what about us? What about… me?”

Her expression softened, and she reached over to ruffle your hair. “Oh, my little Y/n. You’re going to be just fine. Besides, I’ll come back to visit when I can. And you’ll call me, right?”

“I guess…” you muttered, not meeting her gaze.

“Promise me, okay? Promise me you won’t forget about your Noona.”

You nodded reluctantly. “I promise.”

Life went on, as it always does. Suzy’s absence left a void in your heart, but you buried yourself in school and later in college. Occasionally, you’d hear whispers about a girl group named Miss A on social media or from classmates, but you never connected the dots.

Until one evening, your phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number.

“Y/n-ah, it’s me.”

The voice was unmistakable. Your heart skipped a beat. “Noona?”

She laughed softly, the sound like a melody you hadn’t realized you missed. “Still calling me Noona, huh? I’m glad.”

“Where have you been?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly. “It’s been years.”

“I know, I know. I’ve been so busy, but I debuted! I’m in a group now—Miss A. Have you heard of us?”

“Yeah… I think I’ve heard your name around,” you admitted, scratching the back of your head.

“You’re so hopeless,” she teased. “Anyway, I’m back in town for a bit. Let’s meet up. I want to hear everything about you.”

You agreed to meet at the old park where she’d told you she was leaving all those years ago. It was late afternoon, the golden light of the setting sun casting long shadows on the ground.

When you saw her, your breath caught. She was still the Suzy you remembered, but something about her had changed. She carried herself with a quiet confidence now, her long hair flowing in waves down her back. Her smile, though, was the same—warm and inviting.

“Y/n,” she called, waving at you.

You approached hesitantly. “Noona…”

She grinned. “Don’t look so scared! I don’t bite.”

“It’s not that,” you said, trying to compose yourself. “It’s just… you look so different now. More… grown up.”

“And you’ve gotten taller,” she teased, poking your arm. “But you’re still the same shy little kid I remember.”

The two of you sat on the swings, just like you had all those years ago. She told you about her life as an idol—the rigorous training, the long hours, the moments of doubt. And you told her about college, about your struggles to figure out what you wanted to do with your life.

“You’ve done so much, Noona,” you said, admiration clear in your voice. “I’m proud of you.”

Her expression softened, and she looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race. “And I’m proud of you, Y/n. I always knew you’d grow into someone amazing.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the park in twilight, Suzy turned to you, her expression serious.

“Y/n, can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Noona.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. “I’ve missed you. More than I thought I would. And seeing you now… it feels like I’ve been searching for something, and I finally found it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Noona…”

“I know it’s selfish,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “But I don’t want to be just your Noona anymore.”

The world seemed to freeze. You stared at her, your mind racing. “What are you saying?”

She reached out, her fingers brushing against yours. “I’m saying I want to be more than just your childhood friend. More than just your Noona. I want… I want to be with you.”

The air between you crackled with tension, thick and electric, as Suzy’s words hung in the twilight. Her fingers lingered on yours, soft and warm, and her gaze was unyielding, locking onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“Noona,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the faint rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Her lips curved into a small, nervous smile. “You don’t have to say anything, Y/n. Not yet. Just… let me be honest with you for once.”

She shifted closer on the swing, her knee brushing against yours. The contact sent a jolt through you, but you didn’t pull away. How could you? This was Suzy—your Noona, the girl who had always been there, even when she wasn’t.

“All these years,” she began, her voice trembling slightly, “I convinced myself that I was just your Noona. That I was looking out for you like a sister would. But deep down, I knew it was more than that. Even back then, when we were younger, I felt something… something I couldn’t name. And now, seeing you again—” She paused, her breath hitching. “Now, I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Your heart raced, pounding so loudly you were sure she could hear it. “Noona, I…”

“Shh,” she murmured, placing a finger against your lips. Her touch was feather-light, but it silenced you instantly. “Just let me finish.”

Her hand dropped, and she leaned in, her face inches from yours. Her scent—a mix of citrus and something uniquely her—filled your senses, dizzying and intoxicating.

“I don’t want to leave without knowing,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Without knowing if you feel it too.”

The world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, suspended in this moment. You searched her eyes, dark and endless, and saw the vulnerability she was trying so hard to hide. It mirrored your own—the fear, the longing, the hope.

“Suzy,” you said, her name slipping out before you could stop it. It felt strange, foreign, to call her anything other than Noona. But at the same time, it felt right. Necessary, even.

Her lashes fluttered, surprise flickering across her features. “You called me by my name.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “Because… because you’re not just my Noona. Not anymore.”

A soft gasp escaped her lips, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Before you could process what was happening, she closed the distance between you, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was equal parts desperate and tender.

It was messy, awkward even, born from years of suppressed feelings and stolen glances. Her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, while yours found their way to her waist, clutching her like she might vanish if you let go.

When she finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads pressed together.

“Y/n,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“Me too,” you admitted, your voice rough with emotion. “But I never thought…”

“I know,” she said, cutting you off with another quick kiss. “Neither did I. But now that we’re here… I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Her hands slid down to your shoulders, then lower, tracing the contours of your arms before settling on your chest. You could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric of your shirt, and the sensation sent a shiver down your spine.

“Suzy,” you said, your voice cracking. “Are you sure about this?”

She nodded, her expression serious. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

With that, she stood, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. The park was empty now, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. She led you away from the swings, toward the familiar path that wound through the trees.

Your steps faltered as the implications of what was happening began to sink in. “Wait, Noona—Suzy. Where are we going?”

She glanced over her shoulder, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Somewhere private. Unless you’d rather stay here?”

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you shook your head quickly. “N-no, private is good.”

Her laughter filled the air, light and carefree, and she tightened her grip on your hand. “Good. Follow me.”

The walk to her apartment was a blur. Your mind raced, torn between disbelief and anticipation. This was Suzy. Your childhood friend, your Noona. And now…? Now, everything had changed.

By the time you reached her doorstep, your nerves were frayed, your pulse thundering in your ears. She unlocked the door and pulled you inside, kicking it shut behind her. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the soft glow of a lamp in the corner.

She turned to face you, her breath catching as she studied your face. Slowly, she reached up, her fingers brushing against your cheek.

“You’re really here,” she murmured, almost as if she couldn’t believe it herself. “And you’re not running away.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.

A slow smile spread across her lips, and she stepped closer, closing the gap between you. Her hands slid up your chest, then around your neck, pulling you down until your lips met hers once more.

This kiss was different—slower, deeper, more deliberate. Her tongue teased at your bottom lip, and you opened for her without hesitation, a low moan escaping your throat as she deepened the kiss. Her body pressed against yours, soft and warm, and you wrapped your arms around her waist, holding her close.

When she broke the kiss, both of you were panting, your faces flushed. She took your hand and led you to the couch, pushing you gently onto the cushions before climbing onto your lap. Her knees bracketed your hips, and her hands rested on your shoulders as she gazed down at you.

“I’ve imagined this so many times,” she confessed, her voice husky. “But it’s nothing compared to the real thing.”

Your hands found her hips, gripping them tightly as you looked up at her. “Suzy…”

She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. “Tell me what you want, Y/n. Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath hitched, and your grip on her hips tightened. “I want you,” you admitted, your voice raw with need. “All of you.”

A shiver ran through her, and she pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Then take me.”

Her breath caught in her throat as your hands tightened around her hips, pulling her closer until there was no space left between you. The air around you felt electric, charged with the intensity of your shared desire. You could feel the heat radiating from her body, the way her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. Her dark eyes locked onto yours, wide and searching, as if she were trying to pierce through every wall you’d ever built. And for the first time, you didn’t want to hide. Not from her.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against hers in a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down her spine. She tilted her head, her mouth parting slightly, inviting you in. But you held back, teasing her, letting the anticipation build until it was almost unbearable. Her fingers dug into your shoulders, urging you forward, but still, you lingered, savoring the way her breath hitched when you finally closed the distance.

The kiss started slow, tentative, as if you were both rediscovering each other after years apart. Her lips were soft, warm, and achingly familiar, yet they carried a sweetness you hadn’t noticed before. Your hands moved from her hips to her waist, sliding up her sides until they found the curve of her ribs. She gasped into your mouth, her body arching into your touch, and you took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Your tongue brushed against hers, coaxing a low moan from her throat. She tasted faintly of honey and something uniquely Suzy—something that made your head spin and your pulse race. One hand tangled in her hair, gently guiding her head to the side as you kissed her with a hunger that surprised even you. Her fingers slid from your shoulders to the back of your neck, holding you close as if she were afraid you might pull away.

But you had no intention of stopping.

“Noona,” you whispered against her lips, your voice rough with need. “I’ve dreamed of this.”

She shuddered at your words, her grip tightening on your neck. “Y/n…” Her voice was barely audible, trembling with emotion. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

Her confession shattered whatever restraint you had left. With a growl, you pulled her onto your lap, her legs straddling your waist as you claimed her mouth again. This time, the kiss was anything but gentle. It was fierce, demanding, filled with all the longing you’d bottled up over the years. She matched your intensity, her nails scraping lightly against your scalp as she kissed you back with equal fervor.

One hand slid under the hem of her shirt, your fingers skimming the smooth skin of her back. She arched into your touch, a whimper escaping her lips as you traced lazy circles over her spine. Your other hand moved lower, gripping her thigh and pressing her closer until you could feel the warmth of her core against your stomach. The sensation drew a groan from deep within your chest, and you broke the kiss, resting your forehead against hers as you tried to catch your breath.

“Suzy,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. “I need to see you. All of you.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t hesitate. Slowly, reverently, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Then, with a shy smile, she pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her bare skin to your hungry gaze. Her breasts were perfect—full and round, with nipples already hard and begging for attention. You couldn’t resist reaching out, cupping one in your hand and rolling your thumb over the sensitive peak. She gasped, her head falling back as pleasure coursed through her.

“Y/n,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “Please…”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Leaning forward, you captured one nipple in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the hardened bud. She cried out, her hands tangling in your hair as you teased her mercilessly. Your free hand roamed over her body, exploring every inch of her as if committing her curves to memory. When you switched to her other breast, she squirmed in your lap, her hips grinding against yours in a way that made your head swim.

“Noona,” you groaned, pulling away just enough to look up at her. “You’re driving me crazy.”

A wicked smile spread across her lips, and she leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Then let me take care of you.”

Before you could respond, she slid off your lap and dropped to her knees in front of you. Her hands moved to your belt, deftly undoing the buckle before pushing your pants and boxers down your hips. Your cock sprang free, hard and aching, and she wasted no time taking you into her hand. Her touch was firm but tender, her fingers wrapping around your length and giving you a slow stroke that had your eyes fluttering shut.

“God, Noona…” you groaned, your hands gripping the edge of the couch.

Her lips curled into a smirk, and then she leaned forward, taking the tip of your cock into her mouth. The heat of her tongue was almost too much, and you had to bite back a moan as she swirled it around the sensitive head. Her hand continued to stroke you as her mouth worked its magic, alternating between sucking and licking until you were trembling with need.

“Fuck, Suzy,” you growled, your fingers tangling in her hair. “You feel so good.”

She hummed in response, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. Then, without warning, she took you deeper, her throat relaxing around you as she swallowed you whole. Your hips bucked involuntarily, and she looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes—a stark contrast to the dirty things she was doing with her mouth.

It was too much. The sight of her on her knees, her lips stretched around your cock, her dark eyes locked onto yours… it pushed you dangerously close to the edge. But you weren’t ready to finish—not yet. With a shaky breath, you pulled her off you, ignoring her pout as you lifted her back onto your lap.

“My turn,” you said, your voice thick with desire.

Her breath hitched as you flipped her onto her back, spreading her legs and settling between them. Her panties were soaked, clinging to her wet folds, and you couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to the damp fabric. She whimpered, her hips lifting off the couch as you tugged her panties aside, revealing her glistening entrance.

“Y/n,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “Don’t tease me.”

You smirked, dragging your finger through her slickness and drawing a gasp from her lips. “But Noona,” you murmured, circling her clit with your thumb. “Watching you squirm is my new favorite hobby.”

Her response was cut off by a strangled moan as you leaned down, replacing your thumb with your tongue. The taste of her was intoxicating, sweet and tangy, and you lapped at her eagerly, drinking in every drop. Her hands fisted in your hair, holding you in place as you explored her with your mouth, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks of your tongue.

“Oh God,” she cried, her back arching off the couch. “Y/n, I’m—I’m—”

She came undone with a cry, her thighs clamping around your head as waves of pleasure washed over her. You continued to lick her through it, gentling your movements until she collapsed back onto the couch, boneless and gasping for air.

When you finally pulled away, she looked up at you with hooded eyes, her chest heaving. “Y/n…” she murmured, her voice weak but filled with affection.

You kissed her softly, letting her taste herself on your lips. “Noona,” you whispered, “I love you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she pulled you into another kiss, pouring all her emotions into it. When you finally broke apart, she wrapped her arms around your neck, holding you close.

“Take me,” she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. “Make me yours.”

Your heart raced as you positioned yourself at her entrance, the tip of your cock pressing against her slick folds. “Are you sure?” you asked, searching her eyes for any trace of doubt.

She nodded, her expression filled with certainty. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With a steadying breath, you pushed inside her, the tight heat of her walls enveloping you in a way that made your vision blur. She gasped, her nails digging into your shoulders as you buried yourself to the hilt.

“Y/n,” she moaned, her voice trembling. “You feel so good.”

You leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as you began to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that had her writhing beneath you. Each thrust drew a soft cry from her lips, and you couldn’t get enough of the sounds she made—the way she whispered your name like a prayer, the way her breathing hitched when you hit just the right spot.

Her hands roamed over your back, her nails leaving faint trails of pleasure-pain that only spurred you on. You buried your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent—sweet, floral, and utterly intoxicating.

“Noona,” you groaned, your hips snapping against hers. “I can’t hold back much longer.”

She wrapped her legs around your waist, pulling you deeper. “Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice husky with need. “I want you to come, Y/n.”

Her words pushed you over the edge. With a guttural groan, you thrust into her one last time, spilling yourself deep inside her as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. She clung to you, her body trembling as she reached her own climax, her walls clenching around you in a way that prolonged your release.

For a moment, everything faded away—time, space, the world outside—leaving only the two of you, connected in the most intimate way possible.

When you finally came down from your high, you rested your forehead against hers, both of you struggling to catch your breath. She smiled up at you, her eyes shining with warmth and affection.

“Y/n,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of emotion. “I love you, too.”

You kissed her gently, savoring the moment. But as you pulled back, a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes.

“Again?” she asked, her lips curling into a playful smile.

The next morning, the sunlight filtered through the blinds of Suzy’s apartment, casting a soft glow over the room. You stirred awake, your arm draped over her waist, her body warm and still against yours. Her breathing was steady, and for a moment, you just watched her, marveling at how peaceful she looked in sleep. She’s even more beautiful like this, you thought, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled when she saw you. “Morning,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

“Morning, Noona,” you said, your heart swelling at the sight of her sleepy smile.

She stretched lazily, then propped herself up on one elbow. “I have to go to set today,” she said, pouting slightly. “It’s my music video shoot.”

You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment. “I’ll miss you.”

Her expression softened, and she leaned in to kiss you gently. “Why don’t you come with me?” she suggested, her tone casual but her eyes full of hope. “You could see what it’s like behind the scenes. And… I’d love to have you there.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The idea of seeing her work, of being close to her even while she was in her element, was incredibly tempting. “Are you sure? Won’t it be weird?”

Suzy shook her head, her lips curved into a playful smirk. “Everyone will just think you’re part of the crew. Besides, I want you there. Is that so bad?”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Not bad at all.”

---

The set was buzzing with activity when you arrived. Cameras, lights, and people filled the space, creating an electric atmosphere. Suzy immediately took charge, giving directions to her team and chatting casually with the director. You hung back, watching her as she moved with effortless grace, her confidence radiating in every step.

This is her world, you realized, feeling a mix of awe and pride. She belonged here, commanding attention without even trying.

At one point, she glanced over her shoulder and caught your eye, flashing you a quick smile. Your heart raced as she excused herself from the group and made her way over to you.

“How are you holding up?” she asked, her voice low so only you could hear.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though you felt a little out of place among all the chaos. “You’re amazing out there, Noona.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked down, suddenly shy. “Thank you,” she said softly. Then, after a pause, she added, “Stay close, okay? I want you near me.”

You nodded, unable to resist the warmth in her tone. As the day went on, you stayed by her side, helping where you could and simply enjoying the chance to be with her. Between takes, she would lean into you, stealing quiet moments of closeness that made your pulse quicken.

During a break, you found yourselves alone in her dressing room. The door clicked shut behind you, and Suzy turned to face you, her expression serious.

“Y/n,” she began, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “I know this is new for us, and… maybe it’s too soon to say this, but…” She took a deep breath, her eyes locking onto yours. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for this—for us—my whole life.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could respond, she closed the distance between you, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, your hands roaming over her back as if trying to memorize every curve.

She broke the kiss reluctantly, resting her forehead against yours. “I don’t want to hide this,” she whispered. “I don’t care who sees us. I just want to be with you.”

Her declaration left you breathless. “Noona…”

She pressed her finger to your lips, silencing you. “Don’t overthink it, Y/n. Just be with me.”

Before you could reply, someone knocked on the door, startling you both. “Suzy-ssi, we’re ready for you!” a voice called from the other side.

Suzy sighed, stepping back but keeping her hand in yours. “Come watch,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I want you to see this.”

You followed her back to the set, your heart pounding as you took your place among the crew. The cameras rolled, and Suzy transformed before your eyes, slipping effortlessly into her role. She moved with such precision and passion that it was impossible to look away.

As the shoot progressed, you couldn’t help but notice how often she glanced your way, her smile growing warmer each time. It was as if she were performing for you, pouring her heart into every movement because you were there to witness it.

When the director finally called “Cut!” and declared the shoot a wrap, the room erupted into applause. Suzy bowed graciously, thanking everyone for their hard work, but her gaze kept drifting back to you.

Once the crowd began to disperse, she made her way over, her steps slow and deliberate. “Well?” she asked, tilting her head playfully. “What did you think?”

“You were incredible,” you said honestly, your voice filled with admiration. “I mean, I always knew you were talented, but seeing you like that… it’s unreal.”

Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked down, almost bashful. “Thank you,” she murmured. Then, her expression grew serious. “But you know what the best part was?”

You shook your head, curious.

“Knowing you were watching,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It made everything feel… different. Special.”

Your chest tightened at her words, and you reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. “I’ll always watch you, Noona. No matter what.”

She smiled, a soft, contented smile that made your heart ache in the best possible way. “Good,” she said, leaning in closer. “Because I plan on keeping you around for a long time.”

As the crew began to pack up, Suzy led you to a quieter corner of the set, away from prying eyes. She slipped her arms around your neck, pressing her body against yours. “Now,” she said, her voice low and sultry, “what do you say we continue where we left off earlier?”

Your breath hitched, and you didn’t hesitate. You kissed her deeply, your hands gripping her waist as she melted into you. The sounds of the set faded into the background, leaving only the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment.

When she pulled back, her lips swollen and her eyes dark with desire, she gave you a mischievous smile. “My place or yours?” she teased, her tone light but her gaze intense.

You chuckled, your heart racing. “Whichever gets us there faster.”

Her laughter echoed through the empty set as she grabbed your hand and led you toward the exit. But as you reached the door, she paused, turning to face you. “Y/n,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “this isn’t just about tonight. This is… forever. Okay?”

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “Okay.”

And as you stepped out into the cool night air, hand in hand with the woman who had once been your childhood friend and was now so much more, you couldn’t help but feel like the universe had finally aligned. For the first time in years, everything felt right.

“Let’s go home,” Suzy said, squeezing your hand.

[one-green-frog]

Could I get a sanji x male reader pls? Also the reader having devil fruit powers that give him wings pls?

By Your Side, Always

Sanji x m!winged!Reader

The gentle sway of the Thousand Sunny was peaceful as the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose. Sanji leaned against the railing of the ship, his ever-present cigarette hanging between his fingers. His thoughts, however, were far from any culinary ideas or flirtations. His eyes were trained on the figure perched atop the crow’s nest — (Y/N).

You had joined the crew only a few months ago, bringing with you the unique powers of your Devil Fruit. The “Tori Tori no Mi: Model barn owl” had granted you a pair of wings, magnificent and grand, each feather with an interesting new pattern when put together create the most beautiful wings.To Sanji, those wings were not just a testament to your abilities but a reflection of your spirit — free, untamed, and breathtakingly beautiful.

“Sanji, you okay there? You’ve been staring at (Y/N) for ages,” Nami teased as she walked by, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Sanji jolted, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I-I was just… making sure he’s not slacking off! Someone’s gotta keep an eye on him!”

Nami chuckled knowingly before leaving him to his thoughts. Sanji cursed under his breath, feeling exposed. He couldn’t deny it anymore — he was absolutely smitten with you. From the way your laughter echoed across the ship to the moments you swooped down with those magnificent wings, his heart raced every time.

Just then, you descended gracefully from the crow’s nest, landing on the deck with a soft thud. Your wings folded behind you, their sheer size spoke of their strength. Sanji quickly straightened, taking a deep drag of his cigarette to mask his flustered expression.

“Hey, Sanji,” you greeted, your voice carrying a warmth that made his chest tighten. “What’s for dinner tonight? I’m starving.”

“Something special,” Sanji replied, his usual suave tone kicking in despite his nerves. “You’ve been working hard today. I’ll make sure it’s worthy of a king.”

You chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck. “You’re too kind. But honestly, I think Zoro might collapse if he hears you pampering me again.”

“Let that mosshead collapse,” Sanji shot back, his tone playful. “You deserve the best.”

Your laughter filled the air, and Sanji felt his heart flutter. Before he could stop himself, his eyes drifted to your wings again. They caught the fading sunlight, each feather gleaming like it had been dipped in gold.

“Sanji?” you asked, tilting your head. “You’ve been staring at my wings a lot lately. Do they freak you out or something?”

Sanji’s eyes widened in alarm. “What? No! Not at all!” He stubbed out his cigarette hurriedly, trying to find the right words. “They’re… They’re incredible, (Y/N). Really. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

A soft smile spread across your face, and you stretched one wing out slightly. “You can touch them if you want.”

Sanji froze. “Are you serious?”

“Of course,” you said, stepping closer. “I don’t let just anyone touch them, but for you? It’s fine.”

Sanji’s breath hitched as you stood before him, your wings partially spread. Tentatively, he reached out, his fingers brushing against the soft feathers. They were warm and far softer than he had imagined. A strange sense of calm washed over him as he continued to trail his fingers along the edge.

“They’re… amazing,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Strong but soft. Like you.”

You blinked, surprised by his words. “Sanji…”

He pulled his hand back, suddenly aware of how intimate the moment had become. “Sorry! That was out of line—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice gentle. “It wasn’t. I... that was very nice of you to say.. thank you."

Sanji looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you standing there, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.

“I’ve always admired you,” Sanji admitted softly. “Not just your wings, but everything about you. You’re brave, kind, and you’ve brought so much life to this ship. I… I think I’m falling for you, (Y/N).”

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, Sanji feared he’d overstepped. But then, a smile broke across your face, and you stepped closer, your wings enveloping the two of you in a cocoon of warmth.

“You’re something else, Sanji,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’ve fallen for you too.”

Sanji’s breath caught in his throat as you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a soft, tender kiss. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as his heart threatened to burst from his chest.

When you finally pulled away, Sanji was left speechless, his cheeks flushed and his cigarette forgotten on the deck.

“So,” you said, your voice teasing, “about that dinner? I hope it’s as special as you promised.”

Sanji chuckled, his usual charm returning. “For you, my angel? It’ll be the best meal of your life.”

As you laughed and walked away, your wings swaying gently with each step, Sanji couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive. You were his angel, and he was determined to show you just how much you meant to him

[kouzih]

Pretty boy.

Nam-gyu ( Player 124 ) x male!reader .ᐟ

warnings : has smut-ish parts, angst(?) insecure male!reader, mlm, drug/alcohol use and more stuff..

tags,, @gongyoosgf @cybrasigilism @paulilvsremus

word count: 9.1k !!

( 1/24 WHICH MEANS HAPPY NAM-GYU DAY Y'ALL!!! AAA AAA AAA sorry for the long waiting!! i wanted to make this one a bit longer than my other fics..and yeah!! hope you guys enjoy it 🫶 i'm sorry it's kinda fucked up..no proofread tho!! )

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ As you make your way home from the hospital, you look at the bags in your hand again. You were doomed to these medicines to keep your body going. You've always hated this and it's been one of the barriers preventing you from accepting yourself..as a man. A man should be strong, masculine and not dependent on anyone else. Nothing else. With an involuntary sigh, you continued on your way. The bus you were supposed to get on passed you, and although it stopped at the bus stop, you didn't quicken your steps and try to catch the bus. You weren't even upset about missing it, the cold air hitting your face made you feel more alive. The ground was wet from the recent rain, and you arrived at the stop listening to the sounds of your boots hitting the water. You reach into your coat pocket and grab your phone to check the time. Your breath makes your phone screen fog up.

Your friend's text message catches your attention and you call her to reply, knowing that she won't see your message.

After waiting a few seconds, she answers the phone and greets you. "Heyy, what's up?" "Hey. You know, the usual stuff..shitty medicines and..all.." You say the last part in a whisper, lowering your voice when you see someone else approaching your stop. "Ohhhh, hospital shit again? Man, hoe can you deal with those everyday?" "Come again?" You hear a buzzing sound from your phone and realize that she has put it on the desk and turned on speakerphone. "I'm sayingggg, you take those tasteless medicines everyday, give tests and stuff and yet..you don't heal. Like, let's be real,," Even though you knew she didn't mean what she said, you couldn't help but sigh because she was telling the truth. "Mhm." After a hum of agreement for her to continue, you glance at the other person next to you, another face you hadn’t seen before. He had one hand in his pocket as he scrolled through his phone, leaning his face on the railing of the bus stop. You couldn't really hear what your friend was saying, her voice kept breaking because she was busy with something in the back and the stranger next to you had drawn your unnecessary attention.

The stranger tilted his head to the side, letting his hair fall over his face. Using his hand in his pocket to fix his hair, then started recording a voice message. "Yeah, yeah I'll take my bus in uh.." His eyes meet yours, he lowers his phone a little and speaks again. "Do you know when next bus will come?" "In 2 minutes or so-" "In 2 minutes, like that guy said." Shaking his head slightly, he drops the voice recording, sighs and puts his phone back in his pocket, opening the front of his coat a little, causing steam to form when his hot breath meets the air.

Unable to take your eyes off him, you turn around, realizing that you have been staring at him for a long time. "Ah- sorry. I wasn't listening.." You whisper to your friend on the other end of the phone, and when you hear a laugh from her, you look down with a slightly embarrassed face. "Yeah, don't worry it was obvious, anyway." Your pupils dilate as her voice on the phone gets louder and what she says gets louder. "I was wondering if maybe we could go to a club, what do you say? We can visit the place where my friend hangs out all the time."

"A club?" Your voice must have come out louder than you intended because you hear the sound of the stranger moving next to you, so you clear your throat and continue speaking. "I mean, sure. When exactly?" You're not a person who can drink, you cannot put anything in your mouth except light things because it affects you too much. But it could still be a good way to clear your head...at least for one night to escape your problems. "This night. You don't have any plans, right?" Of course, you didn't have any plans. You couldn't really have any other plans than going to your apartment and staying there all day. "Sounds good." Before you know it, the bus has already arrived. You raise your head and take a step towards the bus, telling your friend that you will call her later. You get into the same bus with the stranger next to you and take a seat in the back. You place the medicine bag on your lap, putting your hands in the pockets of your coat. Your coat is closed enough to cover your neck and the tip of your nose, so half of your face is not visible.Your hair is slightly fluffed up from the cold air as it hangs slightly in your eyes, and with a sigh you watch the other stranger take a seat near the front.The bus is almost empty with only a handful of people.

When you come home, you reach for your keys to open the door, you hear the sound of the key turning and tiny footsteps approaching. As you close the door behind you, you feel a soft sensation around your feet accompanied by a meowing sound.

"I'm home."

You lean over and pick up your cat as you lazily toss your bags and coat aside; she always loves to greet you. You feel her head rubbing against your neck as she licks your cheeks softly, not bothering to put your shoes away as you walk towards the living room with your cat in your arms. You watch your cat as you slowly place her on the couch, spinning around and sitting down, her tail tucked under her. As a small giggle leaves you, you put your hands on your knees and stand up, heading towards the kitchen to give your pet a treat. You head towards your front door to lock it before heading into the kitchen, taking off your shoes and grabbing your coat and medicine bag. You go back to the kitchen and reach for the cat's treats from the upper cabinets. As you place some in one of the fancy iron containers you bought earlier, you notice that the cat has already come to you. You take the treat from the counter and place it in front of her, leaning back against the counter as you watch her purr and eat her treat. Remembering that you need to call your friend, you start looking for your phone in your pockets, thinking it can be on the couch, you head towards it, reach for your phone and lie down on the couch. You start driving around the house looking for him. It takes a few minutes for her to pick up, so you have to call again. Meanwhile, you've come to your room and you're already trying to decide what to wear. When you hear your friend's voice on the other end of the phone, you turn your attention back to your phone.

"Hiiii!!" "Hi there." You place your phone on your shoulder and look in your closet. Maybe you should wear something more masculine since you're going to the club. "Are you ready yet?" "Uh, not yet. But I'll be." After hearing your friend's voice of approval, the sound of a key catches your attention. She must be leaving the house.

You still hadn’t decided what to wear when she ended the call by saying she would send you the address as a location. "Okay- bye." You gently placed your phone on your bed and your eyes caught a shirt you hadn’t worn before, thinking it was too big. "I could make this work.." After whispering quietly, you start to make your outfit by checking the time, deciding to do your hair last. You played with your hands strangely as you looked in the mirror. You didn't look bad, you seemed to be in good shape. You didn't look official, but... you didn't look homeless either. You just forget about it and reach into your closet for a small hair tie, You put a small ponytail in the back of your hair. Even though it was small enough to be called a ponytail.. it looked cute. You tilted your head to the side and looked at your hair, giggling to yourself as you put the final touches on it and got ready to leave the house. You know, closing the windows.. turning off the lights and checking on your beloved cat.

When you realize that she is already asleep, your doubts are lifted for a moment, at least you won't have to worry about her anymore. You grab your keys and walk out the door, whispering a small 'goodnight' from your lips, and as you close the door you set off on your way. It was a little late, since you went to the club. When you approach the location where your friend sent, you encounter your friend near the door. She greets you by raising her hand. "Hereee!" You quicken your steps a little and come to your friend, taking your hand out of your pocket and giving her a small wave. "Did I keep you waiting?" You ask in a cheerful but low voice. Your friend, who shakes her head in refusal, fixes her hair before going inside, and you are surprised that there is no line while gesturing for you to come in as well.

You follow your friend with your arms crossed, you didn't want to get lost in a place you didn't know, even if it wasn't crowded. She left you alone to find her friend and said she'll come back, leaving you to get the drinks. You sit down in an empty seat, and as your eyes wander to the people inside, you notice that most of them are already drunk. A whistle from behind you draws your attention to the barista in front of you, who was looking at you with one hand on the counter and the other on his hip.

"Hey pretty boy, have you decided what to order?"

Pretty boy? "Uh, anything light." "First time?" "More than that touches me." "Got ya." The barista turns around, slamming his hand on the counter mockingly, you watch him with your full attention as he prepares your drink. Even if you don't pay much attention at first, his face looks familiar. You notice that he's turning his head to someone else and humming something to them while holding your glass in his hand. As you look into your glass, you notice that he has a few rings on his hand. Even though it's something unnecessary, you're intrigued by the fact that he's wearing jewelry. As he turns his attention to you, he taps his tongue and hits the glass with his index finger, making the ring make a sound with the tapping.

He holds the glass out in front of you and speaks in a lower voice. "And..here you go. A white wine spritzer for the new guy." As you thank him and take your drink, you finally figure out why his face looks familiar.

This was the same man you saw at the bus stop. Only now his hair was more.. different. It looked more well-groomed and didn't cover his eyes like it did at the bus stop. As you wrap your hands around your glass, you notice your friend sitting down next to you. Playfully pushing your shoulder, she calls out to the barista for her drink. "Heyy, sup?" "Hey." While he was busy with another drink in his hand, he looks at the two people next to you with an eyebrow raised. Especially to the friend who is the reason you came here. "You are all together?" The person your friend knows tells you that you guys are new here and that she invited you. He bites his lower lip a little and hums in approval. When the drink he was preparing is finished, he leans slightly towards you, placing his elbows on the counter.

"I thought your friends would be crazy like you, but they seemed pretty normal."

His eye points at you, making you flinch for a moment. You listen to their conversation as you take a sip of your drink. "Yeahhh, well you can't know that. Maybe they are crazy, huh?" The person mocking the barista, with her hands on the counter and her head on her knee, also smacks your friend on the arm, causing the two of them to laugh. You could only stare at them as you traced the edge of your glass with your fingertip. You weren't bothered by it, but you couldn't bring yourself to let them get along and you just sit on the sidelines. In a moment of courage, you down the rest of your drink in one go, tapping your glass on the table as you reach up to wipe your mouth, but you notice your friend is looking at you.

Your friend looked at you with a funny look, shouting something at you and disappeared with her friend. "Don't go too far, you already know why!!" The atmosphere got tense for some reason as she left you alone with the barista again. You slowly pass your empty glass towards the man in front of you, a hum coming out of your mouth. "Can I get something.. heavier?" Shaking his head slightly, he returns to his work again. Even though you didn't drink anything heavy yet, you still didn't feel very well. Your stomach hurt a little and your head ached slightly. But you didn't want to drink the same thing over and over. And if you consider that the person in front of you is a man...maybe trying some heavy stuff would be a good experience. Your feet were actually touching the ground, but you stood on your tiptoes to make yourself look taller. You realized your drink was ready when his footsteps approached. This time he didn't say what it was as he handed you a red glass. You weren't very good with drinks, so you couldn't guess. He cocked his head slightly to the side as he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Don't know what it is?" "No.." "Don't care about it, just drink. It does taste good, so don't worry." He says quickly as he wipes his hand on the apron tied around his waist. After all, you’re not his only customer.

You take a sip and try to guess, was it wine again?

You take another sip, but this time it feels sweeter, like there's something wrong with your taste.

Even if you don't get what it is, you continue drinking because you like the taste. In the meantime, your friend comes to you once again. She's not drunk, but she looks a little... messy..Your friend says she wants to leave early and asks if it's okay with you. At first you want to leave the club with her because it means you'll be alone, but then something tells you to stay. "Nah, I guess I'll stay a bit longer." Your friend gives your arm a gentle squeeze, telling you to be careful. Her friend next to her shouts something before leaving. "Nam-gyu! The guy who came with me will still be here, keep an eye on him!" Even if you don't know who it is at first, you eventually do when the barista raises his hand in acknowledgement.

Maybe you could talk to him since you know his name now. That you saw him at the bus stop and... felt like talking. Maybe it would be better if you don't say the last part. With them leaving completely, you are left alone for a while, thinking about taking out your phone and walking around. In the meantime, the man you were dying to talk to appears in front of you again.

"I see you finished your drink?" "Yeah, just finished." "Want me to make something heavier again? I thought 'more than that touches you'." You feel a slight blush on your face, yes you said that..and yes it really touched you. "Well I'm not the best at the moment but," You put your phone back in your pocket and continue talking. "I wanted to try something new...even though I knew I would get worse." "That's not cool bro." "Huh?" The man in front of you speaks in a ridiculous tone while pointing at several drunk and sober people on the sides. "There are even people who come here and just drink coke, and believe me, they can get crazy drunk." You frown at him, not quite understanding what he's saying. Are you supposed to be offended? "There's no need to waste yourself trying something new." It felt ironic that he was speaking as a barista. After all, it was his job to make and sell drinks.

"And this is coming from a barista, huh?"

He just chuckled at your question and rolled his eyes jokingly. Even though you didn't talk much, you already felt close to him, and it was obvious that he was a fun person.

"Anyway, why you didn't leave with your friends?" The question made you freeze suddenly. How exactly could you say that he was the whole reason you stayed? But you decided that now wasn’t the time to be shy, so you cleared your throat and answered him. "We met before actually, kind of, I saw you at the bus stop." You paused for a moment between sentences and corrected yourself. He blinked and made a face as if he were trying to remember. He must have remembered afterwards because a few words fell from his lips. "Ohh, the guys I asked the bus, yeah?" "Yeah!" "What a confidence. I didn't think you'd be in this club." Oh right..He was still with you when you talked about the club. "Ah- yes, yes.. I didn't think we would..met as well." As you reach out to scratch your neck, your slightly undone hair tie comes into your hand. As you look at the hair tie that has fallen into your palm, your hands go to tie your hair back up when he stops you. "Leave it, this suits you." Coming from someone with long hair, it meant more to you. "If you say so." It occurred to you that it might be getting late, and as you look at your phone in sudden panic, you realize it's past midnight. "Oh, fuck."

"Everything alright?" He asks in a worried and curious tone as you turn off your phone and put it back in your pocket. "Not really- I just didn't realize it was getting this late." "You have plans or something?" This question again.. "No, not at all. I just don't like sleeping late." After nodding his head to show that he understands, he clears his throat by hitting the counter with his hand. "Okay, then. You better get going." "Right, right. Do you guys take cards?" "Sure. Lemme make it for you really quick." You take your wallet out of one of your pockets and hand him your card. After going to a place not too far away and paying, he comes back with a piece of paper along with the card. "All done. And here is my number. In case you'll think about coming here again, let me know so I can get you on my shift, yeah?" "Thanks." You grab the paper with the card and tuck them in your wallet before standing up. After fixing your clothes, you turn your attention to Nam-gyu.

"Talk to you later..Nam-gyu." You said it loud enough for him to hear. Hoping you didn't mix up his name. He looked at you and tried to get your name out of his mouth, but since he didn't know, he just let out a breath and said goodbye to you. "See ya."

As you head home, you look at the paper in your hand. The number was written quickly and the last numbers were a little blurry because the ink hadn't dried yet. Since there were no buses, you preferred to walk, and maybe it would make you feel better. Your stomach still ached and you could feel the drinks you drank stuck in your throat. You were almost at your house when you felt like throwing up. You didn't want to embarrass yourself since there were a few people around. You entered your apartment building with one hand over your mouth, sobbing as you climbed the stairs to your own apartment. The first place you went to when you entered the house was the sink. You looked at yourself in the mirror as you unintentionally threw up the things you drank. Your face was sour because of the taste that remained on the tip of your tongue. "..I knew I shouldn't have had that second glass.." As you’re mad at yourself under your breath, you remember the number he gave you.

You quickly cleaned yourself up, letting the cold water hit your face. You sat down on the dull bathroom floor and picked up your phone. "Let's see.." You carefully write down the numbers and save it in your phone. You want to look at his social media with your save. While you are curiously scrolling through your apps, you notice that there is usually no profile photo, but the profile photo on one of them catches your attention. He looked like when you saw at the stop.. His hair was messier and he was dressed in a nicer style. His tattoos, which you didn't notice at the club, were also visible in his photo. You feel a little ashamed that you found yourself stalking him. What was your problem? Maybe it's his looks..and that he calls you a man.. You get up, shaking off your thoughts. It was obvious that you were going to have no sleep tonight, but you still took a sleeping pill to try your luck. The fact that he was on your mind even though you guys didn't talk for more than a day caused your cheeks to turn pink. Maybe you could have spent your time wandering around the house..even if you wanted to, you couldn't call him at this hour.

Before you knew it, it was already morning, you couldn't say you were doing well. But you weren't too bad either, you checked the time and planned to start your daily routine.

09:00 am

You remember that you need to make breakfast before you sit down at your computer. Of course, you didn't forget your beloved cat either, she woke up before you and had already left her food bowl in front of the kitchen. Thinking of her before yourself, you place the food bowl full of food next to your cat's bed. She gets up excitedly, meowing at you while eating her own food with small chews.

You prepare your own breakfast and get down to work. Since you were working from home, you had nothing to worry about. Well, we could say that you were able to have a comfortable working environment. When it's time for a break, you want to scroll through your phone, and then the number you saved last night catches your attention. "Nam-gyu.." As you silently read his name with your lips, you thought it would be a good idea to call him. Maybe you could say a 'what's up man?' or just..have a little chat. After a swallow, you wait for him to pick up the call. And after a few seconds later, you hear a voice on the other side of the phone. "Hi?" "Hey there." "Do I know you?" Oh right. Your number wasn't saved on his phone. "I-it's me. From last night- remember? The guy you talked to?" While you're hoping for him to recognize you, you feel momentarily uneasy when the person on the line remains silent. "Ohh- yeah, the one I gave my number. What's up?" "Yes, that one. Just wanted to say hi while I'm on my break." He speaks after clicking his tongue. "Sweet, I'm still at home. you must have guessed I'm on the night shift. Shitty night shifts.."

"Actually, I'm at home too, I mean- because I work from home." There was a slight edge in your voice. Like he was going to judge you. But right now, he seemed to be in a good mood. Before he can respond, you quickly add something else. "It didn't seem very busy yesterday actually?" "You think like that. Do you have any idea how hard it is to deal with drunk sons of bitches?" After a small chuckle, he continues. "Especially when their own whores are with them." You didn't expect his mouth to be like..this.

"Yeah.. right." After a small hum comes from the end of the phone, you ask him to repeat it. "You're up tonight?" "Up?" "Down for getting drunk, duh." He continues his speech while assuming a tone of voice as if he had just remembered something. "You can't drink too much, can you? After they left, I got a message from my friend not to give you any shit that's heavy." God, this is embarrassing. Yeah, what they said was true, but saying it like that made you feel less of a... man. A few unexpected words escaped from your lips as you involuntarily nodded his approval. "But I still wanted to try." "Is that soooo.." "Yeah." There was silence between you for a few seconds, then he replied with a sound as if Nam-gyu was sucking his teeth. "Hell..you'll stay with me, though? With the promise of leaving if you get any bad feeling." "Promise."

The night went better than expected. Nam-gyu turned out to be a bit more foul-mouthed than you thought, but he still kept in touch with you. You two drank together him without leaving your side. There was one scene that you couldn't forget, especially on your way back home.

While drinking together, everyone raises their glasses, and when you’re the last one not to raise your glasses, Nam-gyu grabs your shoulder and pulls you towards him. "Don't be shy, pretty boy. Come onnn, cheersss!" You thought he didn't realize what he was saying because he was half drunk, but you wanted to bring it up in your conversation the next day. Although it has been a few days since you met him, you spent your days hanging out with him. You were talking to him on the phone again, telling him how your night went and stuff. "Right, right. Good thing that you weren't drunk enough to start hitting on others. Hell, you'd look hilarious." Hilarious? "Why did you say that now.. I'd not." "Yeah-uh, you would. We hung out together all night anyway, glad you enjoyed the night." "Ah- yep. Thanks." You almost forgot what you had to ask for a second, he would go silent sometimes because he was having breakfast.

"You called me pretty boy, though."

"Hm?" After finishing the mouthful, he speaks again.

"Fuck, I did? I mean, it's true but I don't remember saying it."

So he actually meant it. "Isn't it normal because you were drunk?" Oh yeah, definitely.. it's also normal for him to be all over you because he was drunk. "Yeahhh..anyway. You feel any good?" "Mhm, pretty good." Mentally? Yes. But physically, honestly speaking, you were a mess. You hadn't been taking your medication regularly for a few days, and you especially didn't touch your medication the day you went out drinking. You didn't even have the energy to take a shower as soon as you got home and threw yourself into bed. But you still couldn't give up on this feeling. The way he talked to you and the way you felt more manly when you were with him.

The cheerful voice you hear before you hang up the phone makes your heart stop for a moment. "See ya around man." And just like that the call ends. You smile to yourself as you place the phone back on your lap.

You continued going out with him like this for the last few weeks, until one day you tried something a little heavier. You saw him take drugs while you were drinking. And this time he offered you a little too. His eyes were half-closed and his bangs were stuck to his face. You two weren't actually inside the club, you had already left a couple mins ago. You were standing on a bench at the side of the street. The cold air hit your face and you weren't exactly drunk, you had chosen to drink less. Despite that, your stomach ached and you weren't feeling very well. He held a slightly crushed pill in his hand, extending his palm towards you. "Take some." "Uh, no. I'm good." "Ugh. Take it." He brings his palm towards your lap, urging you to take it. You think again, involuntarily taking it from his hand. You feel like throwing up for a moment and go to cover your mouth with your free hand. Nam-gyu moves closer to you, placing his hand on your knee as he tilts his head slightly to the side. He hiccups a few times as he tries to understand what’s going on. You take your hand off your mouth and turn your head to the man next to you. He was watching your face with his mouth slightly open. The moment you turn to him, he can't help but laugh a bit.

"Fuck it, one time wont hurt." Still indecisive, you look at his face. When he realized you weren’t going to do it on your own, he lazily grabbed your hand and popped the pill into his own mouth, chewing it a few times. You were so focused on the sound of the pill breaking that you didn't realize his lips brushed against yours until a little sound came from him. After feeling a few pieces of dust in his mouth, he pulls back from you, his head hitting your shoulder before he returns to a sitting position with his head down. Your eyes widened as you felt your cheeks turning pink. You were practically awake as he sat next to you as if nothing had happened.

You looked at him, swallowing hard, and opened your mouth to say something. But you didn't want to press the issue, you knew he wouldn't remember what he said because he was already so high. Or what he did.

But you would be lying if you said you weren't high either. You weren't feeling very well and your head was spinning. You were either going to stay here numb, or you were going to go home. You weren’t going to sleep in the middle of the street. So you struggled to get up and held Nam-gyu’s hand. He threw a curious look at you and tried to get up as well, laughing to himself as he fell onto your back. Hell, you two were high as fuck. He didn't keep his mouth shut, asking you ridiculous questions as you two headed towards your apartment. Nam-gyu, who threw himself on the couch as soon as you entered, was in a much worse state than you. To wake up you either had to take a shower or go to sleep like him. Nam-gyu didn't sleep even though he was on the couch. He doesn't make a sound while looking at your sobbing figure. "I'm gonna take a..bath. You stay there." He put his head on the edge of the couch and makes eye contact with you. He closed his eyes and made a gesture of approval. This way you go to your own room...good thing you have a personal bathroom.But when you start taking off your clothes, some footsteps catch your attention. As you take off your seat belt, you notice that the door is slightly open.

"Man..fuck this shit my head hurts like hell.." He speaks to you as he struggles to stand. He must be starting to wake up a little, but you doubt he's still conscious. "Mhm..what about taking a hot shower?" "..Hot shower?" "Yeah." He sits on the edge of your bed, one hand playing with his hair as he walks into the room. You keep your hands still on your belt, finally catching Nam-gyu’s attention as you throw it onto the bed. He gives you a look that you can't understand. But your mind is still stuck on the warm feeling of his lips on yours. You don't want to take your pants off in front of him, suddenly you turn your attention to the bathroom with the sound of water overflowing and say a few words to him. "The left door at the end of the hallway is the bathroom.. I think you should take a shower too." He makes a sniffling sound and then his eyes move from your hands to your face. Without saying anything, he leaves the room and heads to the bathroom.

With him gone, you can finally go to the bathroom. But the thought of what would you do if he didn't leave eats you alive. Would you really take it off in front of him? You pray to god he left. Taking a shower really did feel good, just like you thought it would. The warm water hitting your skin made you felt more alive. Especially after smoking it, you thought you wouldn't find yourself at home. You head towards the living room in your pajamas, the wet drops in your hair soaking your shoulders. Nam-gyu had already left the bathroom before you and was letting his hair combs dry on the edge of the couch. His eyes were watching the ceiling, and he lifted his head slightly when he noticed you coming.

"Finally." With a sigh, he raises his hands to tuck the hair behind his ears. You realize his rings are gone, they were lined up on the table along with his phone.

"My bad, it took me a bit to..feel better." After muttering to him with a guilty conscience, Nam-gyu pats the back next to him, gesturing for you to come over. "Yeah whatever man.. come on." As you sit next to him and watch his movements, you realize that he is waking up with difficulty. He would close his eyes from time to time and open them again as if he had woken up from sleep. Suddenly, you remembered your medication. Maybe it would be better for your health to get a few. "Oh, wait-" You reach out from the couch and pick up a bag that's on the table. "What's that?" Nam-gyu spoke more soberly. "My medications..I haven't taken them for a long time." As you look at the pills, you remember that moment again, you hoped to get better by taking your medication. Nam-gyu speaks lazily as he looks at the pills in your hand. "Is there anything that helps with headaches?" "Yeah." You lift one of the few pills left on your right and wave it in the air. As you come to him with a glass of water in your hand, he throws his head on the couch and glares at you. He waits for you to put the pill in his mouth with his mouth slightly open, and when you hand him the glass of water, he swallows the pill dryly, shaking his head. "No need." You put the water in your hand aside and hold on to the couch with your hands. You tilt your head to the side and look at the face below you.

His eyes were probing your face as if he was going to eat you alive. One hand comes to your face, pinching your nose he speaks in a low voice. "Like what you see? Heh." You frown at him and back away from the couch. You decide it’s a good idea to change clothes since your wet hair has completely soaked your shoulders.

You walk towards your room and take off your clothes. Before you can put on another t-shirt, you feel two hands grab your bare arms. You turn your head, startled by the cold feeling. Nam-gyu’s eyes roam over your body as his muscles twitch slightly in response to your reaction. "Were you always that..skinny?" You step forward and try to ignore what he says. Either he was high or he was seriously trying to get close. The first option seems like it might be more realistic for you. He stayed at your apartment that night. And even if you didn't want to admit it, he was acting closer to you. He would call you in the morning with his sleepy voice and ask about your plans, and when he came across ridiculous customers, he would send you messages about them.

"Someone just picked the drink that he threw up, fucking weirdoooo.."

"I mean seriously, people have no taste when it comes to drinking..."

He even agreed to come to the hospital with you. Even though he accompanied you to drink, he also cared about your health sometimes. One day when the weather was rainy and cold, he offered to pick you up with his car. You had been in his car a few times already, so you knew where he usually parked. You practically ran out of the apartment, holding Nam-gyu's hand as you quickly walked in the rain to find the car. "Wait, wait— it's not like the car is gonna run away." Before you could even guess, you fell to the ground because of the wet floor, and he fell on top of you, causing all the water on the ground to splash onto you two. You could hear him swearing under his breath, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he stood over you, supporting himself with his hands. "Asshole- look at me. I'm all soaked." But you couldn't answer him, the sound of the rain falling and the water dripping from the ends of his hair onto your cheeks..he just looked so stunning. His wet eyelashes made it hard to see his eyes, but the way he looked at you was priceless. You could see your own reflection in his pupils, and you couldn't help but notice his rising and falling chest. Your body was moving without you realizing it, your hands cupping his cheeks as you lowered his face towards yours, letting your lips taste each other. His cold lips were trembling against your warm ones. You couldn't hear any sounds, as if he had forgotten to breathe. After you pulled away, he just stared at you. He stared at you in surprise for a few seconds, as if he hadn't kissed you before.

"..Holy shit, dude." Your cheeks quickly begin to heat up as you realize what you've done. You pull yourself up and try to stand up. "Oh god- S-sorry. It just, happened. I swear-" He responded with a mocking look at you as his hands rested next to your shoulders. "Yeah?" "Y-yeah! Please just forget about it, youjustlookedsogood, I couldn't-"

"Shut up and get in the car, dude."

"Okay.."

When you two got into the car, you felt very strange in the seat next to you, a feeling like you were never close before filled you. Nam-gyu’s voice makes you swallow your words as you were taking a deep breath to explain yourself. "It was obvious that you were interested in that kind of shit but, fuck dude. I didn't think you would do it with me." "Huh?" "I mean, even your look gives it away." The words hit you in the face as if you had been beaten. You felt like you were sinking into the ground as you stared at him with your pupils constricted. Nam-gyu lets out a sigh of relief, combing his hair back with one hand as he smiles at you sarcastically. "Hah..did you like it though?" "What?" "The kiss." Pursing his lips, he makes a kissing sound, and responds to you by tilting his head to the side. "You liked it?" You don’t answer him and just stare at the side window of the car. An embarrassed expression covers your face as you realize he's muttering something under his breath.

"We still have time..wanna do it?"

"..Do what?"

You understood right after that second what he meant with the sly look he threw at you. He was fucking hard. When you came home you were not only wet but also... sticky. You limped a little as you walked into the your apartment, the scene in the car coming back to you as you noticed the sticky liquid on your t-shirt, and the corner of your lip was still bleeding slightly. "Did you really have to bit my lip..that hard?" "It's ridiculous that you talk as if your voices didn't fill the car." "Shut up!" After playfully punching him on the shoulder, you left to take a shower. When you looked at yourself in the mirror in your bedroom, you felt your eyes flutter for a moment. But you ignored it and headed towards the bathroom anyway. As you can imagine, this wasn't your first time. He would try to have a quickie with you whenever he got the chance. And you were completely off your medication. Other than taking pills just to sleep, you wouldn't take anything else except the pills Nam-gyu gave you. And your relationship continued like this for a few months. During that time Nam-gyu 'borrowed' a lot of money from you. Not enough to put you in debt but.. there wasn't nothing he wouldn't do to get high. But as your relationship became more formal..you felt like people were starting to judge you. Not for being with a man, but for being with him. Almost everyone who knew him was astonished and asked how you managed to endure him. I mean..yeah he wasn't the best. But he had taken your first time and you had never felt this comfortable with anyone before. Plus, even if you were physically shit, he made you feel good. Was that even possible?

You even got matching tattoos together. He got a butterfly tattoo and you got a bloody rose tattoo to represent him. He always loved your chest. The feeling of being able to feel your bones when he touched it gave him a pleasure he couldn't describe. That's why you had it done on the left side of your chest. He had it done on his left arm, so that it would be visible, like the other tattoos. But all good things must come to an end, right? Especially if you're not a healthy person. Even though you liked how it was.. sometimes your body couldn't handle it. Pushing yourself too hard would make you feel weak in the coming days.

Because of this, you couldn't even see Nam-gyu at all sometimes, you couldn't even reply to his messages. You had become unable to leave your house. You had to give up your beloved cat to your friend and go back on your medication to get better. You were so glad your partner cared about you. You even felt guilty at times because you felt like a burden to him. But...the things you heard about him were starting to make you doubt yourself. And that one voice message you heard was the final straw.

"Him? Yeah, he feels good and all, but...sometimes you know. I feel like a woman would be good too."

That voice message your friend sent you left you shaking in your bed. The fact that it was a drunk voice message tore you apart even more. Maybe he didn't mean it like that? He's doing something to get high almost every night anyway, so maybe he's not talking about you- or maybe he's faking it or something? But him calling you out of the blue in the morning corrected your suspicions. Actually, you had already confirmed this with the message your friend sent you at night. 'I told you so. You can't trust him at all..' You don't answer his phone at first, but then you notice the message he sent you in your notifications. He was asking if you were home. Of course you were home.. But you didn't want to look at his message. You weren't in the mood to talk right now and especially didn't want to hear his voice. How could you trust him now? How could you know he wouldn't lie to stay with you? This time he called you again. When you answered he spoke in a louder tone than you intended. "What the fuck do you think you're doing by not answering your phone, motherfucker?" "I don't wanna talk." "NAH. You're gonna talk. I'm almost at your apartment- don't make me open the door." His voice sounded like he was growling at you, it was obvious that he was mad. You panic when the phone is hung up on you, and as scenarios run through your mind about what he was planning to do, you jump out of your bed when you hear a knock on the door. Swallowing hard, you walked towards the door without bothering to ask who is it. It was obvious who it was anyway. Nam-gyu’s hand grabs the edge of the door as you nervously open it, making you flinch. As you back away from the door, he walks in, closing the door behind him.

"To the living room, now." You frown at him and direct your steps towards the living room. He watches you sit on the couch as he throws his phone on one of the couches. Nam-gyu doesn’t say anything at first as he stands, cracking his knuckles. "The worst shit always happens to me, fucking god."

"But you were the one who said those things?" "And?" Was he serious about what he said just now..He didn't even deny what he said. "You know, you said you didn't want to be with ME- after everything I had done for you!" You shifted your position on the couch and raised your tone towards him. You had every right to be as angry as you wanted right now.

Rolling his eyes, he put a hand over his mouth and sighed as he gave you an answer. "Don't act like I've never done anything to you, now..." He continued, his voice softer. "You know how I am with other people...we were just messing around, I was drunk." You didn't want to answer him. You chose to stay silent. Maybe what he meant wasn't such a bad thing after all?He approached you with his expression unchanging, one hand on the couch and the other holding the end of your hair as he spoke in a low tone. "Yes, yes.. you're always right pretty boy. Forgive me, let's forget about that, yeah?" You knew exactly what he was doing. He didn't even try to cover up what he was doing..

You responded with a tone that indicated that it was unintentional. He might have the upper hand over you, but that didn't always mean you would obey him. "Really? Isn't that what you always do... to make up for your mistakes by covering them with the pleasure you give me?" You clearly hear him click his tongue, and he bites his lip lightly, showing you that signature smile again. ".. Exactly, you know me so well..I'm kind of embarrassed." His hands have already moved down to your thighs before you even notice. His eyes slowly drift down as his thumbs play with the elastic of your sweatpants. "Come on...just for this once. You know how much I love you, right?" Oh how you loved his words..his choice of words was driving you crazy. It was like all your anger was gone in an instant. You took a deep breath and mumbled one last sentence under your breath.

"Y-you're right.." As your eyes follow his fingers, you watch the sweatpants fall down from your waist. He lowers his hand, which was playing with your hair to your chest, making you lean back into the couch.

"..But I should admit. I hate how you can do both." His breathing becomes heavy as his eyes roam over your bare skin, and he says the words in between breaths. "Hate how you're pretty as a woman and..attractive as a man. I can feel drunk just by looking at you." You were melting under his touch and words, he must have noticed you were getting hard because he already had you in his grasp. Nam-gyu felt himself harden as the tiny moans coming out of your mouth filled his ears. He pulls his hand from your tent and lays you down completely on the couch, your arms falling around your face as you suddenly feel his hardness against yours. One hand cups your face to brush the hair off your forehead, while the other runs across your bare skin.

"What do you think..will you last for a few rounds?" You turn your face to the side, not wanting to make eye contact during it. "..Maybe." but he stops you with his hand and whispers one last thing.

"Nuh uh..don't take your charming eyes off me..pretty boy."

okay so ngl i wanted to add MOREE stuff, but i choosed today as the deadline cuz of the date..haha..anyway. please tell me if there's any typos cuz, no proofread..