#actually I’d settle for just getting to say the words locked inside me and settle this for good

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[casuallyimagining]

Two Hours || myg

otter hybrid yoongi x female reader

Summary: Your neighbor invites you to a work picnic that he's nervous to attend. You promise to only stay for two hours. Word Count: 2,870 Genre: slice of life, fake dating, friends to ???, fluff Warnings: none

Notes: Thank you to @park-jimin-isnt-real for the moodboard above, and to @rec-me-bts for the moodboard below that I used in the teaser. I had so much trouble deciding which one to use where. Also many many thanks to @oddinary4bts and @madbutgloriouspond for beta-ing this for me and for their endless sympathies while I basically had an existential crisis in their dms. Thank you for not telling me I am annoying 💙

The elevator dings and you step onto your floor. Your arm stings from carrying the grocery bags from the garage–they aren’t particularly full, but it’s just heavy enough and just long enough to get your out of shape muscles angry at you. The closer you get to your apartment, the more you notice a banging noise. And when you finally round the corner, you see its source.

Your across-the-hall neighbor, Yoongi, stands outside of his own apartment rattling his door angrily.

“Stuck again?” you ask, fishing out your keys with your free hand.

Yoongi grunts, the small ears on the top of his head pressing into his hair in frustration. Silently, he takes the bags out of your hand while you open your door. 

“You should call the landlord again,” you tell him. He follows you inside as if it’s natural. Which, really, it is. This is the fourth time this month his door has jammed, effectively locking him out of his home until a locksmith showed up.

“I’d fix it myself if he’d let me.” He sets the bags on your counter and starts to hand you items. Strawberries, a bottle of coffee creamer, cucumbers and celery. He picks up a box of frozen fish sticks and flips it around to read. “You know this stuff is garbage, right?”

You ignore his commentary on your groceries. “You know Krolmeir’s never going to let you fix it. He’d have to lower your rent.”

He hums, and you can hear the underlying ‘jackass’ in the tone. 

“Do you want me to call him?” you asked. Krolmeir–your landlord–likes you way more than he seems to like Yoongi. You’re almost positive you can guess why. But you aren’t afraid to use his skeeviness to your advantage.

“I called him just before you showed up.”

“And he said…?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Yoongi imitates Krolmeir’s voice–a high-pitched nasally whine more than anything. He rolls his eyes. “So he’ll be here sometime between five minutes from now and next Tuesday.”

You hum sympathetically. “Hang out here until he comes? I’ll make dinner.”

“Are you making fish sticks?”

“Thought about it.” His face scrunches up in disgust, a massive frown parts his lips, revealing his longer than human canine teeth. You laugh and roll your eyes. “I was actually just going to order something. Want to get sushi?”

His eyes light up, but when he speaks, his tone doesn’t match how excited he looks. “Whatever you want to do. I’m the one crashing your evening.”

You wave him off. He should know by now that he’s not imposing. You’ve been neighbors for a few years now. You’d started off just going grocery shopping together–it’s easier to carry groceries when there are two of you–and quickly progressed to taking refuge in each other’s apartments when something went wrong in your own. First, it had been your air conditioning crapping out that had driven you to Yoongi’s apartment to avoid the late-summer heat. Then, his oven stopped working, and he’d hidden in your living room while the landlord and the handyman made the repairs. Back and forth until a friendship had formed.

The sushi arrives and you settle in together on your couch. You prop your door open so that you can hear if the landlord arrives. He takes two bites of his sashimi before Yoongi hums urgently, causing you to pause the show you’d turned on for background noise.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says, and you can tell he’s suddenly nervous. “So we’re having a potluck picnic thing at work, and someone decided it would be a great idea to make it mandatory.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. But I get a plus one, so I was wondering if maybe you’d go with me? Make it a little more tolerable?”

“You want me to go to your dumb company picnic with you?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Nervously, he pokes at a grain of rice that had fallen off one of his nigiri.

“Sounds like it’s going to be not a lot of fun.”

“Yeah.”

You shrug. “I’m in.”

Yoongi is a ball of nerves as you shift into park. You’re definitely not the first ones here–there’s like ten other cars in the gravel lot, and you can see a large-ish group of people milling about the pavilion just up the hill. He alternates between patting his thigh and picking at the skin around his thumbnail. His ears press into his hair so far you can’t even see them. You know he doesn’t care for his coworkers, but you didn’t know it was this bad. Maybe it’s the crowd, or the fact that so many of his coworkers will be here. You aren’t sure, but you don’t like how affected he is.

You reach over and gently cover his hands with your own. He freezes. “Let’s make a game plan,” you say softly. He hums. “We’ll stay for how long? Two hours? An hour and a half?”

“Two I think. Since it’s mandatory.”

You nod. “Stay for two hours. We’ll talk to people, but if it starts to be too much, let me know.” 

For a moment, he’s quiet. But then, he nods. “Let’s do this.”

You carry the dessert Yoongi made–partially because you’re a little worried he might drop it from nerves–and he sticks by your side. He’s got one hand in his pocket, but he’s so close that the other brushes against you every few steps.

The closer you get, the more the people in the pavilion notice you. You watch as one by one, then a few at a time, they watch you approach. And suddenly, you understand why Yoongi’s uncomfortable. Eventually, someone comes scuttling toward you.

“Hi Yoongi!” she calls, waving enthusiastically as she approaches.

“Oh. Hey Liz.” He presses closer. “We uh… we brought tiramisu.”

The woman–Liz–takes the container out of your hands. You make a small noise of protest, but she’s already gone, back up the hill to the pavilion and everyone else.

“Yoongi and his girlfriend brought dessert,” you hear her announce.

“Oh, tiramisu? Nice!” someone else–you can’t see who–says.

“No way. I thought he was going to bring something fishy.” Someone else, you can see them and you make a note that you hate them, laughs. A few others chuckle, too, and you also hate them.

They’re still laughing when you get to the pavilion. You’re introduced to each of them by finding out what they brought, and honestly, you don’t remember most of their names. It’s David that made the comment about the fish, so you’re sure to memorize his name so you can hate him fully. David’s dating Yoongi’s manager, Marcus, who apparently brought chicken that is very good. There’s Alison, who brought naan, and Rabia who brought chutney to go with it. And Donghyun brought some sort of seven layer dip.

For the most part, none of them talk to you. It quickly becomes clear that these people aren’t friends. Certainly, they aren’t friends with Yoongi, but they aren’t friends at all. They talk to each other, but it’s clear that this is just another mandatory work thing for them, and they don’t want to be here. You’re honestly a little glad that they leave you alone. None of them seem particularly nice. Or interesting.

So you grab food. And you sit together at a table far away from where the rest of the group is lingering.

“One hour, 45 minutes to go,” Yoongi mumbles, and you snort in laughter, almost choking on the naan you’d just taken a bite of.

“Maybe it won’t be so-”

“Mind if I sit?” You’re interrupted by a bright voice, and when you look, Liz is standing beside Yoongi, holding a plate of food.

You look to Yoongi and he makes a face that says he really doesn’t want her to sit with you. But he says nothing, simply gestures to the other side of the table. Which, of course, she takes as an invitation to sit right beside him. He practically squeaks in distress and scoots slightly over so that there’s a bit of space between them.

“I have to be honest,” Liz begins, oblivious. “No one really expected you to bring anyone. We kind of all just assumed you were single, you know?” He hums, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge what she’s saying. Briefly, you consider correcting her–you aren’t dating–but she continues before you can even consider a polite way to address the situation. “How long have you known each other? How’d you meet?”

“Years.” He doesn’t even look at her to answer her, his focus on pushing his food around on his plate. His current victim is the seven layer dip he’s stabbing with a tortilla chip.

“We’re neighbors,” you add, hoping that maybe if you answer her questions, she’ll shut up and leave you alone.

Liz nods enthusiastically. “That’s so cute! You guys are cute.”

“I’m going to grab a drink,” Yoongi announces suddenly, standing up. “Do you want anything?”

“Surprise me.”

He nods and leaves you alone with Liz. “I’m serious,” she laughs. “When we were all told we could bring a plus-one, I don’t think anyone expected Yoongi to bring someone. He’s usually so quiet around everyone at work.”

You’ve lost patience with her quickly. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but every time she opens her mouth to speak, it grates on your nerves. “Sometimes, he only talks when he thinks it’s worth his time.” You shrug and make eye contact with her. 

Her smile falters very briefly, but then she recovers and it’s like nothing changed. “He talks to me, though,” she continues, as if you’d said nothing. “Mostly about new album releases and stuff.” You work at a music store, you think. But you let her keep talking. “He knows so much about music. He played the piano for me once.”

You hum and say nothing, craning your neck so you can look around her to see where Yoongi’s gotten to. He’s at the end of the pavilion, distracted by Marcus, his manager.

“He’s really good,” Liz gushes. “Like, really good. He used to want to be a music teacher–did you know that? He told me-”

You tune her out. Of course, you know that he plays the piano. You’ve seen the brown upright that sits in his living room, never dusty because he plays it too much. You often hear the soft melodies that travel through the walls at night when he can’t sleep. He’d even told you about wanting to be a music teacher–a long-dead dream that he’d abandoned in his early 20s. You wish he hadn’t, he had the patience of a saint and he was one of the smartest people you knew. But you also understand how needlessly cruel the world can be sometimes.

Finally, Yoongi returns, balancing a plate and two bottles of beer. He sits one of the bottles in front of you and, with a flourish, places the plate between you. “Someone made hotteok,” he says gleefully, nudging a pancake in your direction. “They aren’t hot, but Marcus said they were really good.”

He picks one up, gives it a satisfied pat. A wide, gummy smile spreads across his lips and his eyes crinkle in delight. He pats the pancake again a few more times, before nudging the plate toward you. It’s got one more hotteok on it, and a scoop of the tiramisu trifle Yoongi’d made. 

Liz makes a noise of annoyance, and the look on her face says that she’s not happy she’s being ignored. But she plasters on a smile when Yoongi looks over at her.

“Oh. Liz,” he says softly, one hand still gently patting his hotteok. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

Her face falls. “I was just leaving.”

She leaves her plate behind.

He watches after her, eyes wide as she goes to join the group currently surrounding a bluetooth speaker. It’s blasting some sort of 90s pop song–you assume they’ve got a playlist going on someone’s phone. 

“That was weird,” Yoongi says finally. “She’s normally really nice.”

You hum and lie. “Maybe she’s having a bad day.”

And as tactless as you think Liz is, you want to believe that’s true. You’ve heard plenty of stories of her, how she’s the only coworker that Yoongi actually likes, how she’s nice to him, how she actually seems to be interested in what he has to say. You don’t trust her, but you hope for Yoongi’s sake that she’s just off her game today. 

Maybe if he clarified that you weren’t dating, it would help.

He doesn’t make any effort to do that, though, not even when Rabia brings around a QR code for you to scan to add songs to the playlist they’ve got going.

“Thought maybe you and your girlfriend would want to add some songs,” she says, offering a small smile. She waits patiently while Yoongi scans the code on her phone, and then she disappears again, back to the group over by the speaker.

“She seems nice,” you say, watching as he types into his phone and picks a couple songs.

Yoongi shrugs. “I’ve met her like twice? She works nights.”

After a second, he hands you his phone, open to some music website you’ve never heard of. You carefully consider what you might want to add. The site doesn’t let you see what else is in the playlist, so you aren’t sure what songs Yoongi picked, let alone what the others have queued up. But you pick two of your favorites that you think would be fun and hand him his phone back.

Apparently, the playlist is on shuffle, because a few songs later, you recognize the opening beats of one of the songs you chose. Immediately, Yoongi perks up, his little ears on alert as he listens. It takes all of about three seconds for him to break into a grin. 

He’d introduced you to this band back when you first started grocery shopping together. You were driving, he was playing music on his phone. They were his favorite, a small hip-hop group made up of three dog hybrids. It wasn’t common for hybrids to make it in really any industry, so the fact that these guys did and their music was good? You couldn’t deny they had quickly become some of your favorite artists, too.

He sways a little with the music, his eyes closed. He looks content. You smile watching him, rest your chin on his hands. You’re happy you came, you determine.

Two hours fly faster than you thought they would. And when you point out that you’ve hit your promised limit and ask if Yoongi’s ready to go, he immediately nods. So you stand, say your goodbyes. His coworkers make a big deal of you leaving so soon. Liz tries to hug Yoongi before you leave, but he dodges her by grabbing another hotteok–though whether it was a purposeful deflection or just a happy accident, you aren’t sure.

He barely speaks until you’re in the car and halfway back to your apartment building. He shifts around in his seat, digging around in his pocket. He pulls out a rock–his favorite rock, you note–and rolls it around in his hand.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “For coming with me. I uh… I’m sorry I didn’t tell them we weren’t dating.”

You frown, and when you slow to a stop at the next redlight, you turn to look at him. “You don’t have to apologize for that. If it made the situation even a little easier, it’s totally fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean, when am I going to see these people again?” The light turns green and you hit the gas. “Let them think whatever they want. You wanna come back in eight months and tell them we’re married? Go for it.”

“I-I don’t…”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

He nods. “I appreciate it.”

The car falls silent, the only sounds coming from the radio–Yoongi’s phone connected to the aux cord. He continues to toy with the rock, rubbing it between his fingers and tapping it against the armrest on the door. It takes only minutes to pull into the garage under your building, and even less to find a spot.

While you’re waiting for the elevator to return to the garage, he says your name so softly, you almost don’t hear it over the whirring of the cables and machinery.

“Here,” he says, reaching out and grabbing your hand. Carefully, he presses his rock into your palm.

You look at him, confused. “Yoongi, I…” He loves this rock. He’d never said exactly where he found it, but it’s a little round and very smooth, and you’ve seen him pat his pockets down on numerous occasions to make sure he has it with him.

“Take it. Please. I… As a thank you.” He doesn’t look at you, his face flushed a shade of light pink.

You nod and close your fingers around the rock. You’ll have to find somewhere nice to put it. And maybe, someday, you can find him a new one to replace it.

I'd love to know what you thought! I had been considering making this longer, but I thought leaving it open might be a little more fun. if you're interested, I may do a part two later? idk let me know if you're feeling a part two. thank you again to yav and jay for the moodboards. they're both so pretty.

[happyhauntt]

if my wish were granted — nikolai lantsov

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: anya likes teasing nikolai. it’s far too easy to get under his skin. this time, enjoying some peace aboard the Volkvolny, anya claims that she prefers sturmhond’s rugged looks over nikolai’s princely features.

─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)

─── warnings: fluff, a lil angst if you squint, this is steamy with sexual references but no actual smut, i'd still put it as 18+ just in case, pre-established relationship, this might be the closest to smut i've ever written and i need validation so please tell me i did a good job even if it's a lie, mentions of past injury. oh and krysa = rat.

─── word count: 1.4k.

     The gentle rocking of the ship is a soothing lullaby to Anya. Curled up and warm beneath silk blankets, she feels like she is small again and her mother is humming a sweet Old Ravkan song in her ear, familiar and strange all at once.

     Her mother, of course, did no such thing in Anya's youth — all those nursemaids and nannies — but the rhythm of it is still a balm on her soul. The rocking of the ship, the steady beat of Nikolai's heart beneath her cheek, the scent of saltwater on his skin. This is home, she thinks. She has never felt contentment like this before. She fears she never will again.

     Nikolai stirs beneath her. He toys absently with the loose locks of her hair, curling honey-coloured strands around his fingers. A soft smile stretches over his face, and when he speaks, his voice is low and husky with the remains of sleep. "What are you thinking about?"

     She looks up at him, so close she can feel the warmth of his breath on her face. His lips brush her hair as he speaks, and something lights up inside her chest. A spark she prays will never go out. A sense of safety that settles over her only when he is near.

     She doesn’t respond at first. She raises her hand, draws a gentle line down his face, from his brow to his chin. Nikolai shivers beneath her touch. Her finger lingers on his nose for a few moments, brushing lightly over the tailored crookedness of it. Nikolai tilts his chin and kisses her fingertip.

     “Not much,” she says, finally, and it’s the truth. Her mind feels fuzzy and warm, and the air in the cabin smells like candle wax and salt. Though their country is wartorn and her thoughts are forever occupied with other, more pressing matters — here and now, her mind is quiet. Anya will savour this bliss, these fleeting moments of peace between them, for as long as she can. It is the only time he belongs to her, and nobody else.

      His grin is wide and smug and edged with lovesickness. The tips of his fingers draw abstract shapes on the bare skin of her shoulder. “That’s quite an achievement. I must have done a fantastic job, if you’ve managed to lose your thoughts. I had worried it couldn’t be done.”

     Anya scowls mockingly at him, but she cannot fight the smile that curls at the edge of her lips. “Alright then, sobachka, you asked for it. I was just thinking that I quite prefer your nose like this. All rugged and handsome.”

     He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that makes Anya’s stomach do somersaults. Muddy green eyes rove over her, as familiar to her now as Nikolai’s usual hazel. “I think I prefer when you used to call me krysa.”

     “Ah,” she says, “but I didn’t kiss you then, did I? I’d call you krysa and push you into the nearest puddle. And you certainly weren’t this handsome then. You were still a boy, prim and proper and clean-cut.”

     "But I was a soldier, darling, and you did manage to fall madly in love with me.” A muscle jumps in his jaw, and Anya feels like she’s won some kind of prize. “Is that not ruggedly handsome enough for you?"

     "I'm in love with you, am I? That's news to me."

     A low growl rolls through Nikolai’s chest and suddenly she's beneath him. He hovers over her like a Saint of all things unholy, propped up on his palms with a wicked grin slashed across his mouth, and he kisses her deeply, tongue lashing over hers before he trails lower, peppering open-mouthed kisses over her jaw, her chest, her stomach.

     A calloused hand wraps gently around her thigh. The rings studding his fingers are cold against her skin. He kisses her broken knee, softly, reverently. Looks up at her through heavy-lidded eyes. "How is it now?"

     "Much better." It had never healed right, but the pain of it doesn’t bother her much anymore. Anya is a soldier, after all. The salty breeze and the warmth of the air have eased the brittleness of her bones. Ravka's cold will be the death of her someday, she's sure.

     The scar that remains is little more than a puckered white line, disguising the sort of damage that will never go away, not completely. She had a cane made for when the pain is at its worst, when the chill makes her bones feel like knives beneath her skin and she can no longer put on a brave face. For the most part, it remains hidden out of sight. She despises feeling weak.

     "We're about an hour out from port," Anya murmurs, as Nikolai trails another line of kisses up her body. He ignores her for a moment, choosing to wrap her leg around his waist instead, humming against the column of her throat. "We should get dressed."

     His heart sinks at her words, and he buries his face in her neck. He feels her hand curling into his hair, stroking idly through tailored-red strands, and he wishes there was some way to stop time.

     He wants to press his lips to hers and kiss her until she's breathless. Wants to fuck her hard into the mattress until the rest of the world melts away and there's just this room and him. Wants to make her come so many times she can't remember her own name. Anything to keep her for a moment longer, soft and safe and happy, where the hell of reality can't touch her.

     But Nikolai has no such power, and in the next moment Anya is pushing him away, shimmying out from under him until she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor. He reaches out with desperate hands, tries to latch them around her waist, but Anya merely casts an apologetic glance over her shoulder.

     The battle is lost, Nikolai knows, and so he sighs. Settling back on his elbows, he watches her retrieve some of their discarded clothes from the floor.

     “You look better in my clothes than I do,” he tells her as she tugs his shirt down over her head. She turns to face him, silhouetted against the golden light as it spills through the window. His shirt is long and loose on her, gaping at the chest where she’d pulled the ties undone. The hem just brushes the top of her thigh, leaving the rest of her long legs exposed in a way that leaves him breathless.

     She reaches up and sweeps her hair out of the collar, allowing it to fall in tangled curls down her back. “That’s because I’m wearing them, and you’re not. Up now, Kolya. Procrastinating will not make me stay longer; we both have schedules to keep.”

     When the Volkvolny finally docks in the port at Os Kervo, Nikolai kisses Anya just before she reaches the gangway. He keeps a tight grip on her waist but his lips are soft, tender, and Anya knows that if kisses could have a flavour, this one would taste of sadness.

     Saying goodbye is always the hardest part.

     When he pulls away, finally, he keeps her close. Their foreheads press together and his eyes are closed, as if he can keep her that way, as if the secret to making her stay is pretending she will always be there.

     She runs her thumb over the bridge of his nose, over the knots of ill-healed bone that Tolya put there, to disguise Nikolai’s true features. When he opens his eyes, they are green and not hazel, and a bolt of grief streaks through her. She misses them. She misses him, so much, and he is still here.

     She wonders if there will ever come a time when one of them isn’t always leaving.

     Two weeks after she leaves, a letter from Tamar appears, delivered with the rest of Anya’s correspondance. Her laughter peels out of her office and if her employees wonder what has made their boss, usually so stern and sober, sound so utterly giddy, then none of them mention it.

     Please tell the captain that you think he’s handsome as-is, Tamar writes. He keeps goading Tolya into actually trying to break his nose. Anya laughs until tears drip from her chin and the ink smears across the page. And if her next letter to Nikolai is a little more complimentary than usual, well, that’s a sacrifice she is willing to make.

[viceofdionysus]

To the Mat

Frank Castle x F!reader Rating: 18+ Word Count: 3.9K Contains: Some biting, nipple play, ass slapping, oral (F! receiving), P in V (unprotected), cumming inside, Frank Castle being a menace Summary: After a long week at work, Frank helps you work out your tensions.

There’s a cheerful chime as the clock rolls over to five. You sigh and push away from your computer, rubbing at the tension in the back of your neck. Taking a deep breath, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to set the day aside. Then you lock your computer and gather your things. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and join the crush of people leaving the building. 

The elevator descends so slowly that you start to wonder if it’s actually stopped. It finally reaches the first floor and the doors slide open to reveal how close you are to freedom. A few more steps and you’ll be able to revel in the crisp air and sunshine. You hadn’t realized that such a short distance could feel so vast. You can hear your dreaded coworker’s voice behind you over the sound of the music playing on your earbuds, so you duck your head and pick up your pace. Pushing through the door, New York City rushes to greet you. The smells, the sounds, the sights envelope you, offering comfort after a long day. But the best sight in the world is at the edge of the sidewalk. 

Frank leans against an old Chevy, his legs crossed in front of him, sunglasses guarding his gaze. Slimer has his head hanging out of the window, grinning a wide doggy grin. The tension in your neck starts to dissipate at the sight of them. Frank spots you and lowers his sunglasses so you can see his eyes slowly scanning over you before flicking back up to your face. He winks as a slow, devastating smile curls over his face. 

When you reach him, he immediately reaches out to tuck you against him. His arms wrap around you, his hands settling on your lower back. You take a moment to nuzzle his neck before resting your head on his shoulder. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you until later.” You say after a moment. 

“Decided to ditch poker night. Curtis has taken enough of my money recently and you’re more important.” At your questioning noise, he elaborates, “You said it was a crappy day, so I thought we could do something fun.” 

“I was just going to grab some Chinese on the way home and watch a cheesy movie.” 

Frank nods, “We could do that. Or,” He trails off, knowing you can’t resist the tease. 

“Or?” You prompt. 

“Do you want to hit something?” 

You lift your head to look at him and see he’s serious. You grin, “I really do.” 

He grins and brushes his knuckles over your chin before cupping your cheek. He kisses you slowly, thoroughly, making sure to taste every bit of your lips. He leaves a low, simmering heat in your belly. 

“Get in the car.” He says, voice low. 

Slimer jumps in the back when you open the door and waits until you're settled before resting his big head on your shoulder. 

“Hi baby.” You coo at the dog, “What’s he planning for us?” 

🥊

You find out what he’s planning when he pulls into the parking lot behind Bruised Knuckles. It’s surprisingly empty for a Friday night. When you express that, Frank just chuckles. 

“Told em that there is a private lesson tonight and they all needed to buzz off.” 

“Frank.” You sigh, affectionate and pleased. 

He just shrugs, “No point in owning a gym if my girl can’t beat the shit out of something after a crappy day.” 

You laugh, eyes crinkling shut. His answering laugh is low and slow. 

“I’ll get your bag,” He says as he shuts the car off, “You get Slimer.” 

“You packed a bag for me?” You feel like that shouldn’t make you swoon, but it does. 

You push open the door and Slimer jumps right out. He immediately sits and waits for you to get out of the car. Before you can step out, Frank's hand is in front of you. You take it and he pulls you to your feet. 

"C'mon slugger, let's get you suited up."

He swings your gym bag over one shoulder and takes your hand as you cross the parking lot. Slimer trots next to you, holding his own lease. At the door, Frank tucks you behind him while Slimer stands between you and the rest of the world. You smile softly at your boys and their protectiveness. Frank takes a moment after opening the door, to scan the hallway and listen for anything out of place. Then he ushers you inside, one large hand at the small of your back. You step into the shadows and immediately start down the hall towards Frank’s office. He follows while Slimer trots in front of you, panting happily. Frank sees you to the door and then steps back. 

“Get changed sweetheart. I’ll go set everything up.” He says, sliding the gym bag off his shoulder. 

“Be right there.” You answer, taking the gym bag from him.  

Inside the office, Slimer curls up in his dog bed as the door clicks shut. You drop your bag in one of the chairs and stretch your arms overhead. You moan softly and drop them back down. Quickly you strip off your work clothes and replace them with the leggings and sports bra Frank had picked out. While you’re pulling your hair up, you hear the stereo click on and a rock song thrums out. You pull on your socks, but leave your shoes in the bag. One final check and you nod to yourself, satisfied. 

“Come on Slimer!” 

He shoots to his feet and follows you out the door. He keeps close down, his claws making soft noises as you walk down the short hallway. You stop in the doorway to the gym and watch as Frank sets a dummy in place. He’d found time to switch to a tight black tank top and gym shorts. “We could have changed together.” 

He turns and shoots you a grin over his shoulder, “Didn’t want you getting distracted sweetheart.” 

You hum happily, grinning at him, “You think pretty highly of yourself.” 

Frank turns to face you fully and crosses the room. He presses in closely, forcing you back against the wall. Slowly he strokes his knuckles down your cheek before cupping your chin. 

“For good reason.” He nearly purrs. Heat stokes slowly in your belly. He grins at you and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

He steps back, leaving you overheated and breathless. You gape at him before your brain restarts and then you narrow your eyes at him. 

“That,” You inform him icily, “was mean.” 

He just chuckles. “Come on, I’ll wrap your hands.”

Eyes still narrowed, you push off the wall and follow him to the mats. He pulls a set of hand wraps out of his pocket and turns to you. You stop in front of him and he raises an eyebrow. Rolling your eyes, but unable to fight your smile, you offer one of your hands. Gently he takes it and starts to wrap your hands. It’s not a long process, but the press of his fingertips is distracting, the seconds elongating themselves. He keeps the wrap taunt, pausing every few wraps to double check that it’s not too tight. One hand cups your elbow to keep your arm steady, but all you can think about is the heat coming off it. When he finishes, you flex your hand and roll your wrist a few times and he nods. Then he takes your other hand and repeats the process. He secures the second wrap at your wrist and raises his gaze to wink at you. Slowly he trails his fingertips up your arm and then back to the edge of the wrap. Goosebumps follow in his wake. 

“You’re being mean again.” You say softly. 

“Just want to make sure you’re worked up sweetheart.” 

“Being around you works me up.” 

He smiles softly. “Sweetheart.” 

“It’s only fair that I get to work you up too.” You shoot him a wink and then step on to the mat. 

He takes a second to refocus, but he can’t help glancing down at your butt. 

“Let’s start with some jabs.” He steps up behind you, hands settling on your hips. “Keep your hips square and stay light on your feet.” He steps around you, sliding his hands into training hand pads. “Whenever you’re ready.” He raises his hands and sets his feet. 

You nod and roll your shoulders. The first hit vibrates up your arm and you quickly follow it with the second. It takes a few hits, but you find your rhythm. Frank watches, nodding. 

“Good.Cross.” 

At his command, you switch to a right cross followed by a left cross. He lets you throw out cross punches for a few moments. 

“Hook.” 

You switch again and he nods. “Good girl.” 

The heat in your core that started to dissipate flares back to life and you falter. You hear his low chuckle. 

“Mean.” You say, trying to force your focus back to the pads on his hands. 

“Mix it up.” 

Mentally swearing at him, you shift to a mix of punches. He lets you go for a few minutes and then stops you. 

“Alright slugger, good job. Why don’t you grab some water while I set up your next opponent.”

You start to step away, but his hand on your wrist stops you. You turn to look at him and he tugs you against him. He lowers his head and takes your mouth, sliding you slowly into pleasure. 

“Frank.” You sigh when he pulls aways. You can feel him smile against your mouth. 

“Water.”  

You can feel yourself smile as you turn away from him. You spot your water bottle near the edge of the mats and cross to it. You’ll never admit to him how good the first sip of water was. You take a moment to roll out your neck and shoulders as you look over the quiet gym. It’s come a long way from the half decrepit building that Frank had found two years ago, but you’d never doubted that he would make it into something great. Slimer regards you from his nearby bed and then stands and trots over to you. 

He offers you the other end of his rope and you wrap your hand around it, prepared for what happens next. He looks up at you and gently tugs it one way and then the other. Then his whole body wiggles and he yanks. If you weren’t used to this game, he would have taken you off your feet. Grinning at him, you tug back just enough to keep his interest. It goes on like that for a minute or two before he decides he’s had enough. He seems to wink up at you and then he yanks the rope while twisting his body away from you. Laughing, you surrender the rope and he pads back to his bed. 

“Almost had him that time.” 

“I would have won if he wasn’t such a cheater.” 

“Sure you would have.” 

A retort on the tip of your tongue, you turn to him. But the retort falters at the sight of him. The cut of the tank top shows off his broad shoulders and the curve of his muscles, the gym shorts are showing off his thighs like they were made to do it. 

“Frank.” You say softly, your desire to hit something shifting into desire for something else. For him. 

He grins at you like he knows what you’re thinking. “How are you feeling? Still tense?” 

You check in with yourself and feel that lingering tension across your shoulders. “Just a bit.” 

“We’ll work out the rest of it on the bag.” 

He follows you to the speed bag, taking the opportunity to admire the view. 

“Frank.” 

“Just appreciating a good thing.” He says and looks up to meet your gaze. 

He helps you into a pair of boxing gloves and then turns you to the mat. 

“You want to work on some kicks? Or would you rather just beat the shit out of the bag?” 

An image of your coworker flashes across your mind. “Beat the shit out of the bag.” 

“Bloodthirsty.” He says, “I like it.” Gently he kisses the back of your neck and then steps back. “Go for it. You have free reign.” 

Once again your coworker’s face materializes and you shoot out a strong right cross. You follow it up by left and right hooks. Your fists pound at the bag, setting a fast rhythm. You work through every snide remark, every passive aggressive email, every unnecessary explanation. Frank stands a few feet away, eyes on you. His hand drops to Slimer’s head when he leans against Frank’s leg. They watch you together, letting you work through all the shit from the week. 

When you finally step back from the bag, you’re panting hard, but you feel the best you’ve felt all week. You look up and find Frank’s dark eyes on you and you grin. He feels his cock twitch at the sight of you, sweaty and a feral light in your eyes. 

He’s moving before he realizes it. You step towards him, meeting him halfway. He shifts and scoops you into his arms. His kiss is searing. 

“Frank.” You moan. “Frank, please.” 

“Fuck, sweethart. Baby.” 

“I need you.” 

Those three words do him in. He pulls you back down, feasting on your mouth. He presses you tightly against him, feeling your hips shifting, seeking friction. Keeping his mouth on yours, he lowers his hand to grip your ass, kneading firmly. Your moan is low and pleased and you feel him smile. Then he grinds you down against his aching cock and you gasp. 

“Frank!” 

He takes the opening to nip your collar bones before sinking his teeth into your shoulder. 

“Fuck.” You whine, hands gripping his shoulders tightly. 

“Right here. I’m going to fuck you right here baby.” He growls before nibbling on your earlobe. 

“Yes!” 

There’s an inescapable inferno building in your core. You don’t even realize that your hips are rolling against him as he continues to knead your butt. 

He finds his control again long enough to sink to his knees on the mat. Gently he lowers you until you’re looking up at him. He locks eyes with you and grins. You wrap a hand in his shirt and drag him back down to you. You think that you’ll never get tired of his mouth on yours. He breaks away from your mouth and kisses down your neck to his bite mark. He places a gentle kiss in the middle of the bite. Your head falls back, an offering he is all too happy to accept. He has a brief moment to think that he would happily get lost in your kisses the rest of his life. Then he pulls back slowly. You watch him, chest heaving gently as your breath evens out. He shifts his weight so he can settle his hands on your waist. 

Slowly he slides his hands up your sides to the edge of your bra. Keeping his gaze on your face, he slips his fingertips under the band to softly run over the sensitive area. Shivers run down your spine. The inferno in your core is rapidly becoming a volcano. With a quick movement he shoves your bra up to free your breasts. You wiggle to help him pull it all the way off and he tosses it. Slimer goes running after it and then trots happily back to his bed. 

You settle on your elbows as Frank leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. He swirls his tongue over the sensitive bud and you moan softly. His dark gaze stays on your face as he licks and sucks and nips gently. He watches the pleasure shift over your face, your mouth falling open in a silent cry. Your eyes close as he switches breasts. 

“Frank.” You whisper, pleading with him without knowing what you’re pleading for.

He pulls back, eyes sliding over your body, taking in the marks he’s left. Your eyes open, gaze hazy. 

“Frank?” You ask softly. 

“On your knees sweetheart.” 

He lays a hand on your hip and helps guide you to your knees. You lower your weight to your forearms and wiggle your ass. Frank grins and slaps it. You moan and look over your shoulder at him. 

“What are you waiting for, big boy?” You smirk at him. 

In response he grips the crotch of your leggings in both hands and flexes. Your leggings come apart with a loud rip. 

“Frank!” 

“Oops.” He smirks and shoves the pieces to the side. He takes a moment and admires the view of your naked ass. Then he smacks your ass and watches it jiggle. 

He moves quickly and buries his face between your legs. You can feel his stubble brushing against your thighs, leaving a delicious trail behind.

He’s gentle with your clit, circling it with the flat of his tongue before flicking it. You gasp, pleasure soaring through you. Frank takes his time, slowly building up both the speed and pressure of his tongue. He makes sure to alternate in long licks through your folds, tasting every bit of you. You're sobbing into the mat, the pleasure coiling tightly in your core. And then it snaps, sending you careening over the edge. 

“Frank!” 

He sucks gently at your clit while you shake around him. His hands take a firm grasp on your ass, pulling your cheeks apart gently so he can admire your glistening folds. 

“Fuck sweetheart. Best damn thing I’ve ever tasted.” He murmurs before diving back in for more. 

He licks slowly through your folds, trying to catch every drop of your wetness. You can feel the heat starting to curl lazily in your core again. Then he slides his tongue into you and you gasp. 

“Fuck!” 

You can feel his answering chuckle rumble through your center. It leaves you moaning. He eats you out deep until you're seeing stars and screaming his name into the mat. 

“That’s it baby.” He says as he pulls back, “Who makes you feel good?” 

“You do!” 

“Say it!” He slaps your ass. 

“You do, Frank! You make me feel good!” 

“And I always will.” He presses a kiss to the middle of your lower back. 

You feel him pull away and you whine softly. But he’s back with you as soon as he leaves, the heat of him pressing against you. He drapes himself over you, bracing his weight on his hands, and kisses down your spine. Then he drags his tongue back up your spine until you're trembling. 

“Frank.” You whisper, not sure you can say anything besides his name.

“What do you want, baby?” He kisses behind your ear. 

“Frank.”

He smirks at you and ruts against your ass. “You want this? You want my cock?”

“Yes!” You sob, hips shifting back to press against him. 

“Ask nicely.” 

Your brain short circuits and then you’re begging, “Please! Frank, please! Need you!” You know you’re babbling, but you can’t seem to form a coherent thought. 

“Good.” He grips your ponytail and gently guides your head back. “Good girl.” 

You feel your cunt clench at the praise. And then he shifts again and you can feel his cock dragging through your folds. He spreads your wetness over his cock and when he’s satisfied, he presses the tip against your opening. 

“Patience.” He growls, when you try to press back against him. 

He grips your hips firmly and guides you back slowly onto his cock. The way he spreads you open leaves you breathless. 

“Oh, Frank, don’t stop.” 

“Baby,” You can hear the smirk in his words, “I haven’t even started yet.” 

When he’s fully sheathed in you, he pauses for a moment to enjoy the feeling of your clenched tightly around him. Then he pulls back slowly, angling his hips so he drags against your sweet spot. You’re not going to last long and you know it.

“Frank.” You can’t find the words, but he knows anyway. 

“It’s alright sweetheart. Come on my cock as much as you want baby.” 

He keeps fucking you like that, slow deep strokes until all you can do is chant his name. It’s a prayer, a mantra, a lifeline. He slides one hand underneath you and finds your clit. Your eyes fly open at the gentle pressure and you hadn’t realized you’d closed them. He starts softly, circling his fingers slowly over the bud. He picks up his pace, but keeps fucking into you slowly. 

“Frank!” You moan his name as you tumble over the edge again. 

He kisses your shoulder blade and smiles. He could fuck you like that forever, he thinks, savoring the wet heat of your pussy. And he knows that you would just keep coming for him, clenching tightly around him, sucking him in deep into your core, but he also knows that he wants to take you home and fuck you in the bed you share, making you scream until your voice is hoarse. 

Slowly he picks up his pace until he’s driving into you. Shallow, firm strokes send pleasure zipping through you. His own end is coming, but he wants you to come for him one more time. To hear you cry out his name in pleasure one more time. So he keeps fucking into you and he finds your clit again. His fingers move in tight, fast circles until he can feel you starting to come again. 

“That's it baby. One more for me. Give me one more right now.” 

It’s all you need. You go soaring, his name a cry of pleasure on your lips. He ruts into you until he’s filling you, his cock twitching softly within your walls. His hips still and he keeps you pressed tightly against him until he’s done. 

His hands still gripping your hips firmly, he slowly pulls back. You whine softly when he fully pulls out, his seed trailing after him. 

Gently he lifts you and cradles you against his chest. You nuzzle your nose against his neck and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“You good sweetheart?” He asks softly. 

“Perfect, just perfect.” You sigh happily. 

“I’m going to lay you down so I can get you a towel.” 

You pout and he just chuckles. He lowers you gently to the mat and kisses your forehead. He’s about to rock to his feet when Slimer trots over. Before Frank can stop him, Slimer drops his very wet chew rope on top of your head. You squeal and jerk away even as Frank laughs, his whole body shaking with it. You turn and try to glare up at him, but you dissolve into laughter. 

Everytime you try to stop laughing, you catch his eye and it sends you into laughter all over again. It takes a while before you both calm down enough that Frank can get to his feet. He offers you a hand and helps you to unsteady legs. 

“How about I just take you with me?” He says, laughter still at the edge of his voice. 

He scoops you into his arms and carries you out of the gym area. Slimer watches you go, a proud doggy smile on his face. 

[hyungseos-cafe]

Pairing: Boyfriend!Chanhee x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warning(s): Sunwoo continues to be an asshole 👿

Word count: 1k+

Summary: Picking up the broken pieces of your heart, Chanhee made a promise to himself to be by your side no matter how painful it was. Chanhee was your safe place, his arms held you together when you couldn't.

A/n: hi sana sorry this took me literal months to finish, but i did it thanks to your encouragement hehe

┊⋆ ˚✯✩. Songs to listen to while reading: Last Cigarette - Mothica, Au/Ra, Burn - Sinéd Harnett, Imperfect Love - Seventeen .✩✯⋆ ˚ ┊

Taglist: @deoboyznet @uwu0clock @sanaxo-o

“I got the postcards you ordered!” Chanhee announced cheerily as he entered your shared apartment. You had ordered custom postcards from a small business with pictures of you and Chanhee from your recent trip to Bali. 

“Thanks! I meant to stop by the mailroom on the way home, but I forgot”

“Ah, no that’s okay”

You turned to grab a pen from the cup of miscellaneous supplies from the counter. Sitting down, you addressed the card to none other than Sunwoo, your friend… Well, it was complicated but your friendship was not one to miss, unfortunately. You were at a point where there was mutual pinning from both parties, but he let his jealousy blind him from seeing what was in front of him. 

Chanhee, curious, looked over your shoulder as you wrote. Seeing your concentration piqued his interest, 

“Are you writing to Sunwoo?”

“Yeah”

“Ah, okay”

Chanhee met you at one of the most difficult times of your life. You had just gotten promoted to a new position and transferred into the city. At the same time, you had just walked away from a long friendship with Sunwoo. Things were great, wonderful even, but the feeling of jealousy was unfortunately brewing in him. He had every right to worry about your new group of friends, but they were the ones worried about Sunwoo as you told him. 

Your friends had your back since you initially started at the company and heard every high and low of your friendship with Sunwoo. Despite what Sunwoo was saying, your friends were the ones with their arms open ready for you to lean on them. 

My eyes suddenly darted to your hand as you dropped the pen. Your hand began cramping up and to alleviate the pain, you shook your hand… It seemed like you wrote letter after letter. Well more like writing a draft. The last and final draft was short and sweet as you explained your sudden absence, 

“Hey Sunwoo! Sorry I left so abruptly, but I got promoted to a new position and was transferred to a new branch in the company. I also met someone, they’re really sweet; kind of reminds me of you! I hope you’ve been well! I’m actually flying back to see some old friends and if you’re free, I’d love to see you”

I read your letter, nodding in approval as you capped your pen off and rummaged through your pile of stamps before settling on a stamp with baby racoons, an homage to Sunwoo’s childhood nickname. 

“Hey Chanhee, do you want to walk down to the post office with me? I need to send this postcard”

“Sure! Let me get my stuff and then we can head out. Maybe we can stop by and grab a quick bite from Cafe Horizon, I heard they have a new coffee menu” 

You stood to gather your bag, put on your sweater and slip on your shoes. Taking my hand in yours, we walked out of our shared apartment, but not without first turning let me lock the door. Hand in hand, we walked to the end of the street a few blocks from our apartment. The post office was one of the oldest ones in the city and held a certain warmth to it from the kind workers to the cozy florals surrounding the interior. 

While inside of the cafe, I went ahead to order you a classic matcha latte and a pistachio croissant with a raspberry filling. I got myself an americano with a blueberry muffin. Turning the corner to join you in the secluded corner of the cafe, I sat down, pushing your order towards you with a sense of unease due to your somber expression. 

“Hey, you okay? You haven’t said anything since we left the post office” I gently inquired while sipping on my coffee rubbing my thumb on the back of your hand. 

“Yeah, I just– I thought it would be easy moving on. Like don’t get me wrong, I have because I know I deserve better, but sometimes…”

“Sometimes you just feel like you’re not making the right decision?” I finished your thought.

“Exactly! I love you Chanhee, I really do and you mean the world to me, but I can’t help but feel bad for him” 

“I know love, but you can’t feel like this forever. He has to move on too”

“It’s hard, but I still care about him. I just can’t love him like I used to” 

“I know you can’t and that’s okay, I’m really proud you have come to acknowledge it”

As the sun began to set, coffees long forgotten and caught in warm conversation, a sudden thought came to my mind. 

“Wait, when are we scheduled to fly back to your hometown?”

“In two days, why?”

“We haven’t packed yet” I sheepishly smiled at you. 

“Well, it looks like we’ve got some packing to do. Let’s go” You stood up and led us out from the cafe back home to pack for our long awaited trip. 

It’s now the day of the trip and we just landed in your hometown, it’s as beautiful as you always told me in conversation and the pictures you’d show me. We were greeted by your coworker who met us at our gate and kindly dropped us off at our hotel. I know I should be excited, but I couldn’t help but be worried about you meeting up with Sunwoo. I trust you, it’s just him who left a sour taste in my mouth ever since he broke off your friendship. 

“Chanhee” I turned around to you looking at me with pleading eyes 

“Please tell me tomorrow's meet up Sunwoo will go well”

“It’ll be okay, love. I promise you’ll be fine and you have me on speed dial” 

It’s the next day and as much as I would like to have the meeting go well, you came back disheveled with tears running down your face. To say that I was angry was an understatement as I have a few choice words for Sunwoo. He was a coward, running away when things got rough. 

“Sun– Sunwoo was so terrible!” 

“Hey love, it’s okay” He pulled your shaking figure into his arms. 

“I’m here for you my love, I’m here for you” He pressed a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

It’s safe to say that Sunwoo was long forgotten.

[kisskissbanggang]

Provocation pt. 2

[3.9k words/15min Read, Lee Know x Female Reader - Non-Idol!au - NSFW/Smut w/Plot - Pegging, Situationships, Light D/S, Minor Bondage, Unexpected Identity Panic, Hyung Kink, Suit Kink, Feelings are Hard]

[Part 1 | Come Say Hi!]

Minho called you hyung.

Minho called you hyung, and he was now currently locked in his bathroom in a mortified ball of nerves. You were both still only partially dressed as you tried to reason with him.

“Minho,” you half-sympathetically, half-sternly called through the door, “you need to let me in so we can talk about what just happened.”

“I promise you, we can talk about this later,” Minho barked back.

You sighed, stooping down to sit on the floor in front of the bathroom. Another sigh could be heard as Minho presumably joined you on the floor from where he sat inside.

“You can tell me if there’s someone else,” you gently offered.

Minho could be heard uncomfortably shifting behind the door. “There really isn’t.”

You paused for a beat, trying to decide what would be best, but instead coming up with two equally fine options that you couldn’t quite choose between at the moment. “Do you want me to leave?”

“... Yes, please. But not because you did anything.”

“I didn’t think I had,” you assured him, “but I’d appreciate it if we talk about this.”

“I’m already working on it.”

“Just… Call me, okay? Or text me…? Bye, Min.”

“Of course. Thanks. Bye.”

And, yeah, you didn’t think you’d done anything, but that didn’t stop you from freaking out once you quickly got dressed, grabbed your things, and rushed down to the parking garage to your car. You and Minho were not serious by any means. Minho was not expected to be committed to you whatsoever. And even though you thought you had a grip on this, finally had a grip on Minho and where the two of you stood, you still caught yourself so lost in thought that you ran a stoplight and nearly rear-ended the car in front of you. 

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

A husky, beleaguered sigh exposed how annoyed you were with yourself and all of this, and you pulled up to the one cafe on the street that appeared to be open. There was a rare parking spot and you took this as a sign. The cafe was familiar now. You’d been here once before you and Minho fooled around at the museum. Actually, you and Minho ran into each other here, accidentally ordering the same drink. The memory of getting so flustered over him gave you butterflies. 

Lovely Cup was appropriately cute, with a counter up front, some booths and tables, and another counter near the back. This counter was where you settled upon, collapsing onto a barstool. Your head fell into your hands after you took the empty mug from its spot in front of you and flipped it over. Thankfully, you watched as your mug was filled – except a compact mirror was also slid across the bar top to you. You picked up your head and sheepishly pointed at the small mirror, looking for your mystery benefactor. The waitress on the other side of the bar smiled sympathetically.

“Is this for me?” you asked. 

“You look like you’re having a rough night,” the waitress explained, “and I didn’t want to be the stranger to just fix your hair like some psycho.”

Embarrassed yet grateful, you flipped open the mirror and took a look. Sure enough, in your hurry to flee from Minho’s apartment, you hadn’t tended to your ruffled hair or smudged makeup. You quickly patted down and roughly brushed your fingers through your hair before grabbing a napkin to smear off what excess makeup you could. Once you were as content as you figured you would be, you closed the mirror and held it back out for the waitress to retrieve.

“I like your bracelet,” you meekly complimented when she reached for the compact.

“Thanks!” the waitress beamed, chipper, giving you a better look at the simple band holding an American penny as a charm. “What brings you in, then? Trouble in paradise?”

She jolted when your gaze shot back up at her. You must have been giving her a look. 

“Sorry,” she quickly apologized, “I know it’s rude to pry.”

“No no,” you reassured her, “I’m just… wondering if it was even paradise to begin with.”

“Have you been together long?”

You thought about this while you sipped on your coffee. “Like, together? Not really. We’ve been seeing each other for a bit, but I don’t necessarily think we’re together.”

“I don’t get it,” the waitress replied flatly. “So what do you do with him? Do you see each other, like… outside of the bedroom?”

“We, uh,” you stalled, trying to think about it. “We go to yoga together sometimes. We get drinks, we go dancing, we’ve been to Ikea a few times, nothing I haven’t done with casual dates before–” “Wait,” the waitress interrupted, flabbergasted. “I’m sorry, you’ve been to Ikea? Multiple times? With casual dates before?”

“Well, no, that one’s been exclusive to this one, but–”

“But did you just pick up some new dish towels, or a whole new dresser?”

“I helped him pick out a new bed frame,” you abashedly clarified while you recalled the one morning you both finally got a bit too rowdy for his wooden four-poster.

“And you were both civil about it?” the waitress carefully asked. “You pointed at one and said ‘that one’ and he just went with it? Or maybe he said ‘no, this one’ and that was that?”

“No,” you heatedly ranted as you recounted how it happened, “because Minho is exactly the kind of idiot that likes to coordinate materials in each room and the whole kitchen is already accented in iron and the whole bedroom is accented in oak, and I told him twenty times that an iron bed frame would look amazing with the color palate and–”

You paused now, catching the waitress expectantly leaning back against the counter, arms folded with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh my god,” you miserably grumbled once you dropped your head back into your hands, “I do actually really like him. I think we actually might be a thing.”

“I don’t think there’s such a thing as platonic Ikea dates,” she mused, “not ones where you’re asked to help pick something and then fight over it.” The waitress stepped forward, tentatively helping lift your head out of your hands and topping off your coffee. “Did you just now realize you might be a thing? Or, for that matter, that you might be serious about him?”

You chewed on your lip, thinking back to that first morning after, the one on Minho’s balcony you shared following your tryst at the museum. “No,” you decided, “but it’s the first time I’m really acknowledging it.”

“Because something happened tonight that made you doubt it?”

The waitress paused when you curiously wondered how she knew that.

“I'm guessing,” she awkwardly explained with a gesture towards you, from messy hair to blotchy face, “based on… You know.”

You sighed. “I think he wants something more than I can provide him and he doesn’t know how to tell me that.”

“Is he stubborn? The proud, bottle-it-up type?” She paused, waiting for your exhausted nod. “Then how do you usually get him to open up about it?”

“Honestly? I usually confront him about it so forwardly that he has to step up to the plate or walk away until he can.”

“Couldn’t have suggested a better plan myself,” the waitress contentedly nodded her head.

“You seem to know the type,” you grinned.

“My boyfriend apparently works in an office that breeds guys just like yours, that or they employ them exclusively.”

You sat up a little expectantly, your interest instantly piqued. “And you snapped him out of it?”

“God, no,” she wheezed, “I’m not a magician, and I’m definitely no saint myself. We’re learning we have to – god forbid – talk about things, so I think your confrontation method could help start that up.”

“As long as you’re sure,” you smirked.

“As long as you report back,” the waitress smiled. 

You dug into your purse and grabbed a couple bills to set on the bar before she slid them back. “My treat,” she insisted. “Pay when you have a better night.”

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

A confrontation seemed easy enough. You reviewed everything that had happened in the bedroom before Minho’s little slip. In the quest to cross things off both your lists in what you “brought out” in each other, you had finally found out how Minho enjoyed both giving and receiving. You were just warming Minho up when it happened, and your cleaned rubber member and harness had been sitting in your bag even while you bemoaned your woes to that waitress in the cafe by Minho’s apartment. 

And, now that you and Minho were hanging out again, even though you still had not talked about that night, you had a chance to try and start something.

Minho was getting ready at his dresser for another night out, checking his shave in the mirror while he spritzed some cologne onto his wrists to rub together and dot onto his neck. He jumped, but instantly melted into you when you came up from behind and nuzzled him behind his ear. 

“You smell good,” you softly murmured into his skin, “I love this cologne on you.”

This was going great. Minho even responded positively to you getting a hand on his hip and pressing up against him. You subtly grinded into him for a moment, savoring the way Minho was beginning to relax and roll his hips back against you, when you tried to take it a step further.

“You know,” you teased, letting the lilt in your voice make Minho shiver, “I brought something you may be interested in trying again–”

Minho disappeared from under your grasp so fast you were reeling.

“Hah, I knew it!” he triumphantly accused. “I knew you’d try to spook it out of me!”

“Minho,” you scolded, “we still haven’t–”

“I’m still not ready!” Minho excitedly countered. “You’ll either have to wait or try harder than that. Now come on, our reservations are in thirty minutes.” 

With that, Minho gleefully kissed you on the cheek and went to grab his keys while you stewed.

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

Try harder. 

You were currently going mad doing just that, laying in your bed and staring at your ceiling. What else happened that day that Minho slipped up? You had texted each other in the morning and you told him you’d pick him up for drinks after work. You had gone to Minho’s office, a ridiculously nice building with five receptionists just at his company’s front desk alone. Minho had been running a little late from his meeting and you saw him down the hall when he emerged, yukking it up with the guys on his team as they spilled out of the conference room.

They were still talking shop, laughing obnoxiously and swapping crude jokes when you self-consciously noticed maybe four sets of eyes had landed on you. One was Jisung, of course, who simply gave you a cheery wave while he bantered with the others. He was already fairly aware of what was going on between you and his brother, and even though it still wasn’t a conversation you’d really had yet, nothing seemed to be ruining their relationship. Not to mention that as the younger of the two, Jisung absolutely was not Minho’s hyung, regardless of whether or not they were fully brothers which they assuredly weren’t. 

The other set of eyes on you for a moment belonged to Seungmin, which made you both bashfully jump for a second. Seungmin did eventually explain himself and apologize profusely, just like he promised Minho after your run-in at the museum, but it wasn’t exactly like the two of you were friends all of a sudden. The last two sets of eyes on you were, of course, Minho, almost looking relieved to see you – and someone you’d never seen before. 

The young executive appeared to be in charge as, no matter how many times anyone glanced at you at the end of the hall, they were all listening intently to every word he said. This stranger was undeniably handsome, someone perhaps Minho’s age or a little older, unmistakably defined under his ludicrously nice suit, and very well taken care of, whether that was by himself or someone else. 

And Minho, particularly, had been paying careful attention to him, up until the moment this mystery man clapped a hand on Seungmin’s shoulder and led him down the hallway away from their group. 

With the exec gone, Minho had finally jogged over to you, almost in a rush to get going now. “Thank god,” he’d enthused with a devilish gleam in his eye, “that was torture. Meetings like that always get me so fired up, I could tear you apart right now.” He may have even looked a little flushed, now that you came to think about it.

So maybe it was the meeting? Made sense. Work probably got him all mixed up. 

You probed Minho about his job a little more diligently from that point on, waiting for just the right day when you finally got what you were looking for.

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

>>Ugh, today is torture. I’m not looking forward to my meeting this afternoon, but I’ll survive.

<<How about I pick you up and we can do something after? I’m sure you could blow off some steam.

Easy as that, you were back in the lobby of Minho’s office waiting for his meeting to get out, and it was the same dance all over again. A friendly wave from Jisung, a tepid glance and nod from Seungmin as he hurriedly excused himself to go badger some young intern, and a cryptic gaze you caught from the nameless executive before Minho jogged up to you, except he paused a few steps away this time. He really did seem frazzled again, maybe a little flushed again, and he was very aware of your outfit.

You’d gone with a suit, for the first time since you met him. It wasn’t particularly masculine by any means, you still had on a nice pair of heels and a cute cropped top under your suit jacket draped over your shoulders, but you’d gone with a suit nonetheless. The idea was to get under his skin in just the way he knew you liked to, maybe bring the meeting into the bedroom.

And it definitely felt like you struck the intended nerve when Minho accidentally slammed you into your dresser back at your apartment, having skipped drinks or a date whatsoever and going straight to afterwards. 

“Sorry, sorry– ow!” Minho grunted against your lips when you returned the favor, turning you both so you could back him up against the dresser.

“What’s got you all worked up, Min?” you sweetly asked, maintaining an alluring edge while you slipped off his tie and jacket.

“Just work stuff– fuck!” Minho gasped when you whipped his belt out from its loops. You dropped the belt on the bed behind you before you got his tie back between your fingers. He sucked in a sharp breath as you draped the neck tie over his eyes and knotted it in the back. Next, his belt was wrapped meticulously around his wrists. Minho jumped.

“This alright?” you carefully asked. Minho nodded adamantly, letting out a content sigh with a shiver of pleasure when he felt your fingers trace down his shirt, unbuttoning your way down his toned chest before you brazenly smoothed your palm over the rigid length in his slacks. “You know what I want to do to you?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” Minho taunted, cracking a grin at you, still flustering you even while he was blindfolded. You gently squeezed his hard-on again, making him involuntarily flex inward with a groan.

“So you do want to try again?”

“Please,” Minho nodded, quietly cursing as you ran a hand over his shoulders before you pushed him face first into your bed.

“Then be good and sit still. I’m right here.”

Minho shivered again when you stroked a hand down his back. With the relaxed and flared fit of your suit pants, you’d managed to wear a low-profile harness unannounced, making this a fairly easy transition as you picked out a non-threatening model from your modest collection of toys and a bottle of lube before you sat on the bed and dragged Minho closer by his bound wrists. He was so serenely compliant as you stroked his hair with one hand and fed your dildo between his lips with the other. Minho let out a groan, something you couldn’t stand to ignore until you reached over to push his slacks and briefs down. Now Minho was obediently bent over your bed before you knelt up to admire him, savoring the fake phallus in his mouth before you reached back with your other hand and began to soothe and caress your fingertips down to his ass.

“Baby,” Minho whined, “more–”

“No,” you gently tutted at him, “not baby. Tell hyung what you want.”

“Oh come on–!” Minho sputtered, backing up in your hold a second before he let out a sharp moan when you rubbed into his entrance. You momentarily relinquished the rubber cock while you coated your fingertips in lube before you returned to teasing him.

“Come on, Min,” you prodded, “you can do this. I know you love the way I get under your skin.” You knew you were being ruthless, punctuating your taunt with a thrust of your fingers. Minho shuddered and bent over more into the bed. “Tell your hyung what you want.” you encouraged him again.

“I–” Minho gasped as he rocked back against your fingers. “I want you to fuck me. Fuck me, hyung.”

“There we go,” you praised, “such a good boy for hyung.”

You slid the forefinger of your other hand under Minho’s chin, tilting his head around towards you so you could give him a deep kiss, the caress of your tongue on his making him whine even more against your fingers. This was, in fact, a million times easier – and maybe even better – than your previous attempt started out. Once you were satisfied with his stretch, you slid your cock of choice into your harness while you strode around behind Minho. You gently, sweetly swept his work shirt down his biceps but kept it on him, looking almost pretty slung off his shoulders like this as you took your time rocking your length into him.

“Oh fuck,” Minho whimpered, “it’s so good, hyung, it’s so fucking good.”

The sheer deviousness you felt from getting such a reaction out of Minho made you feel invincible, made you feel unstoppable and irresistible in a way you’d never experienced before in having your partner be so pliant and submissive. You gripped onto Minho’s hips as you fucked him. He was really putty in your hands, letting you work him over however you wanted. If you lightly slapped the soft skin of his firm ass or teased his nipples, he whined. If you hooked a finger or two into his lip, he hungrily lapped at the digits. It was so good, that just the small friction from thrusting against Minho was adding to the intense arousal coursing through you. When you reached down to play with his cock, you found his hot length was coated in precum.

“So wet for hyung, aren’t you,” you teased, “are you close?”

“Yes, hyung, fuck,” Minho cursed, “if you keep this up I’ll cum.”

“Good, baby,” you praised, “tell me how you want to do it.”

“Ah fuck, I don’t know,” Minho shook his head with a broken laugh, “just keep fucking me.”

“What if,” you grinned, pumping as deep as you could and getting a good cry out of him, “what if you fuck me?”

“What?”

Minho went rigid against you at your suggestion.

“Fuck your hyung, baby,” you cooed with a grin as you slipped his blindfold off, “fuck me and show me what you can do.”

Your exploratory remark worked amazingly as you tried to get a feeling for what exactly Minho wanted out of this. Maybe too amazingly as you slipped Minho’s improvised restraints and blindfold off before he immediately grappled you down onto the bed. Right away, he quickly stripped you of your suit pants. Your legs were roughly kicked apart and pinned up when Minho pulled the crotch of your harness aside to tease his length into you.

“Oh– fuck– Minho, show me what you want, give it to me,” you desperately goaded. It was almost cute, the way Minho grabbed your fake erection and stroked it while he sank into you. 

“You feel so good like this, hyung–” he choked out. 

“Close your eyes baby, really feel what you're giving me,” you instructed. Minho did as he was told, letting his eyes fall shut and soon enough, his hips fell into a smooth rhythm even while he had you practically bent in half. 

“Gonna wreck you, hyung, really show you what you’ve been missing,” Minho groaned under his breath as he fucked you harder. You bit into your lip, letting Minho fully fall into this fantasy the best that you could help him to do. It almost felt sinful, how much pleasure you got out of Minho living out whatever it was going through his mind. By now, Minho’s breaths were growing more ragged and you held down a moan, feeling your own orgasm coming soon, too. Minho’s hips rocked hard against you as he had you almost folded in half with your knees in your chest while he continued stroking your rubber cock, giving you just enough friction to finally ride off this high into a blissful orgasm. Your head pressed back into your sheets as you gasped and sighed around Minho’s length. He wasn't far behind, it seemed, and now you wrapped your legs tight around him. 

“Oh, fuck, hyung,” Minho hungrily moaned, groaning deep as you grabbed onto his arm for support, “I’m going to cum inside you so goddamn hard. Fuck, hyung – oh fuck, Chan, I'm gonna–”

Chan?

Minho's fingers clawed into your hips as he shuddered inside you, but your eyes had snapped wide open while his own stayed dazedly shut. 

Who?!

He shakily gathered his breath before he carefully withdrew from you, and ultimately collapsed on the bed beside you. 

“So…” 

“Hmm?” Minho asked, half lucid, face still in the sheets.

You were internally screaming.

But that was too fucking bad.

You steeled yourself with a composing breath.

“I was just wondering… just now… You said Chan.”

Minho’s eyes flew open now. He hadn’t even realized what he’d said. The bed rocked, the mattress squeaking with how fast Minho scrambled to sit up. Now he was internally screaming.

You both could only stare at each other for a minute. 

And all you could think to do was supportively hold his hand. 

Minho was mortified, staring at his hand in yours until he coughed out a miserable laugh. “I… Heh, I guess… You really do bring it out of me.”

“You don’t have to,” you carefully encouraged, “but can you tell me who that is?”

Minho had already assured you there was no one else, and you trusted him. There was no way it was actually so bad. It all had to be nerves. 

Right?

Minho clearly fought with himself, back and forth a few times, before grabbing a pillow. You watched as he pushed it into his face and got up off the bed, cursing into it while he walked back into the bathroom to lock himself in.

Square one.

Maybe it wasn’t just nerves.

[Who's Chan?]

[To be continued.]

[thekimspoblog]

Sheepdog excerpt from Chapter 2

Jimmy continued with his hand on the wheel. “... I mean I know we’ve got enough on our plate as it is. But I think with the right hand-shake and a box of those mini-eclairs from Brother’s Bakery, we could probably mediate a better compromise, which both parties are happy with, inside of an afternoon. What do you think?”

The car came to a red light.

“I think… I think I’m pregnant” the answer escaped Kim’s lips, surprising even herself. She turned to gauge his reaction.

Jimmy inhaled sharply. His eyes were wide and studied her indifferent expression, almost wondering for a moment if she was messing with him. She arched her eyebrows as if to say “Nope. This is real. Why would I joke about this?”

“How long....” He looked around at nothing in particular before locking eyes with her again “Wow… Wow!”

“The light’s green” she pointed out.

“Right!” he hesitated to step on the gas, still flustered.

There was a glint of fear in his eyes for the rest of the drive, but a grin was unstoppably spreading across his face. Jimmy took a sip from the water bottle, and when his right hand went to place it back in the cupholder, Kim laced her left hand between his fingers. She was smiling too, though more covertly. But both of them were thinking the same thing; “How much is this going to change things? And for better or worse?”

Jimmy was starting to sound like a broken record as the pair settled inside their living room. “And you’re positively sure, there’s nothing to be gained by turning around and going to the emergency room?”

“Jimmy, for the last time, I just want to eat dinner and go to bed. It’s not an emergency anyway. We’ve got nine months for me to get checked out. Seven at the least. And I’m calling the doctor to make an appointment as we speak- Hi! No, please don’t put me on hold again! Thanks. Thanks. Is Dr. Chambers available tomorrow? No? Sure, a nurse - er, a PA - is good enough; I just would really like to be seen sometime tomorrow? Um… yes! That works for me. Okay. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name? Thanks, Jane. You’re a life-saver. I’ll see her then - Four O’Clock” Kim concluded while she entered the information into her PDA.

“After work?” Jimmy scrutinized.

“Actually, I’ll have to cut out early to make it. I don’t understand what the problem is”

“It’s not a problem. It’s great. It’s really, really great”

“But?”

“This all feels like it’s happening so fast. I mean we never even talked about whether we wanted a family. And then the attack today. I just…”

“Well the attack was relevant. I should tell you that. I think what that person stabbed me with was some kinds of hormones. But I don’t know. I’d been thinking about this. Personally, I could have gone either way. We could have kept living like a pair of upper-crust hypocrites indefinitely, and I would have been fine with that. But at the same time, I wonder where I’m going to be twenty years out, and sometimes I think a shelf full of awards wouldn’t be enough to look back on. Honestly, I’d resigned myself that if it happens, it happens. And it… well…” she vaguely gestured to herself.

“I mean I know how much ‘traditional’ bores you. And hey! That makes two! But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have my fingers crossed things would land this way. You know, you say you’re going to make your life about your career, traveling all over the world, living the life of danger, to everyone remaining a stranger, other song lyrics. But then WHAM! You fall in love before you even realize it, and you start to rethink; Hey! The big house, and the two-point-five kids, and the white picket fence, and the dog named Spot. Maybe I can do it. Maybe cliche isn’t so bad. Maybe the thought of losing them is too painful to make straying from home worth it”

She looked at him with concern.

“Please… keep it” He glanced down at his shoes “I mean it’s your body, and I respect that, so you have the final word on this. But please. It would break my heart”

“What? Jimmy, no. It’s not about that. I’m not… You’re right. This is a lot to get our heads around. But we have plenty of time for that. And right now I’m too fucking hungry to think about it” She made her way over to the kitchen and started poking through the cabinets “What do you want? I don’t think i can handle fish right now. I could make spaghetti, but we’re out of sauce. What about pancakes? We can do a breakfast-for-dinner thing”

“Uh sure. Whatever you want. Breakfast, dinner, lunch”

Kim turned around “Are you sure YOU’RE okay? You look kind of pale”

“Never been better” He flashed her a tentative smile. “We’re really doing this thing?”

She leaned against the cabinets with her arms folded. She beamed at her husband confidently “Hell yeah”

Reluctant to sit down on the couch, he hastily proffered one last comment. “You’re gonna be a great mom”

She stopped whisking the batter and peered out into the living room. Without warning, her eyes had started to mist ever so slightly. “Thanks.” she answered matter-of-factly, and then realized the polite thing to do would have been to return the compliment.

[illicitlimerence-writes]

perfect | m. verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader word count: 3.8k words request: yes/no by anon: "first of all oh my god i love your writing so much. can I ask for a f1 fic where max thinks you might be cheating because your leaving the house and getting texts but it’s actually a tutor because your learning dutch for him and you wanted it to be a surprise, with loads of fluff at the end. your valentines fics have got me wanting so much fluff lol 💗💗💗" thank you so much!! i'm sorry this took so long! warnings: language, angst, fluff, sad!max:(, not really mentions of cheating but slight allusions to it(?) i think. not proofread! a/n: i really don't like posting stuff once a week. REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.

my masterlist

(bold is supposed to be what you say in dutch.)

"schat?" max called, locking the door to your shared apartment behind him. "(y/n)?" he tried again, setting the flower he picked for you down on the kitchen island. he frowned, you hadn't mentioned any plans you had for the day. he grabbed his phone and opened his chat with you, you hadn't texted him or anything.

he went to your bedroom, plugging in his phone so it could charge. he rids himself of his sweaty clothes to take a shower. he’s used to have a limited amount of time to get himself ready during the race weekends, but now that he’s home, he allows himself to relax under the water, hitting him like rain. he thinks back to the first time you met.

it was raining, and he’d found himself without an umbrella as he walked home. the rain had come from out of nowhere, one minute, he was inside the bakery getting his favorite cheat-day food, a sweet baked pastry with strawberries and cream cheese filling, the next, as he took three steps in the direction of the penthouse he called home, rain came pouring down, drenching his clothes. he held onto the brown paper bag a little tighter, now wrapping both hands around it to protect the sweet guilty pleasure he enjoyed so much.

the streets were empty, for once, and yet, max refused to go back and find shelter. if anything, it was because of his own stubbornness that he was now determined to get home, no matter what it took.

water hit his face from all directions, not only did the rain come unannounced, but it was accompanied by some nasty wind as well.

what a peculiar sight, he thought, the world champion walking alone, without an umbrella and only wearing a light t-shirt and jeans, protecting a paper bag as if his life depended on it.

one could sell that picture for a million dollars.

he rolled his eyes at his own thoughts, eyebrows slowly settling in a frown on his forehead, one that seemed to always be there lately. he raised his head a little, narrowing his eyes to avoid the small droplets of water that were now falling from his soft strands of hair to irritate his eyes and make his sight much blurrier that it already was.

the next second, he could still hear the rain, but he could not feel it anymore. he looked up, he could see the sky, and the rain falling, clashing against a plastic protection over his head.

“you’ll get sick,” he heard a soft voice. he turns his head, seeing a girl with a pretty smile on her face. “i mean, i don’t know how long you’ve been out here, but by the looks of your clothes i’d say a few minutes, you’ll have to take a warm shower when you get home. and take some medicines just in case,” she spoke rather quickly, meanwhile he stared at her like she grew a second head. he stopped walking abruptly, flinching slightly when the rain fell on him again.

she realized he wasn’t walking alongside her, so she walked back and placed the umbrella over their heads.

“do you actually want to get sick?” she asked, curious eyes scanning his face.

“who are you?” he asked.

“i’m (y/n),” she said, “now, do you want me to walk you home or would you rather keep walking in the rain?” she raised an eyebrow, catching the dutch by surprise. “well?” she pressed on.

“um- i- thanks?” his voice didn’t sound so convincing, but he took a step forward, and soon enough they were walking together side by side again. “i’m max, by the way,” he said, offering her a small smile.

they made small talk as she walked him home, whenever they had to take a turn he’d make sure to place a hand on her back, slowly directing her to the right direction. they took turns asking each other questions, about books they’ve read, about their hobbies, about the weather.

max verstappen had always been good with words, he was used to thinking before speaking, creating the perfect sentence in his mind and polishing it before letting it escape his lips. but with his new friend, he didn’t have to think twice. whatever crossed his mind was met by her ears, and she never seemed fazed by his strong opinions on a certain movie or book.

they’d been walking for what felt like eternity, but in reality were only about fifteen minutes. it wasn’t raining as hard now, so somewhere along the way, they slowed down their steps. max wasn’t startled by much, but he did find it funny how he nearly flinched when he thought the raindrops were going to hit him instead of the clear umbrella she was carrying.

“oh, wait, let me hold it,” he said, wrapping his fingers around the handle, “it’s the least i can do,” he gave her a small smile, holding the paper bag with his other hand, her eyes flew down as she saw the movement.

“have you tried their madeleines?” she asked, dropping her hand by her side, it was starting to cramp for being in the same position for a while.

“hmm?” he hummed, she lifted an eyebrow, looking at the bag he was holding, the logo and name of the bakery clearly visible, “oh! um, no, i don’t think i have,”

“they’re my favorites,” she explained, “with a warm cup of hot cocoa, weather just like today, an opened window and a good movie playing,” she smiled to herself, “i might just go back there to get one,” she giggled.

“um, i … we- we could share this, if you like,” he stuttered. he actually stuttered. she turned her head to look at him, and all the air left his lungs as he stared into her eyes.

and that was that, she spent the afternoon with him in his penthouse apartment, she even cracked open a window as he chose a movie.

now, six months later, max thinks back to that day, he sighs to himself as he thinks about how lucky he was that day under the rain. once he’s finished showering, he changes and dries his hair with a towel, he fixes it a little with his fingers, but not too much since he knows how much you love his hair when it’s just washed.

as he steps out of your room, he hears soft humming coming from the kitchen.

“hey, where were you?” he asks once he spots you.

you’re reading something on your laptop, that sits on the kitchen counter. as you hear him, you slam shut your computer, walking to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. you hum as you tangle your fingers in his hair.

“went for a walk,” you say, standing on your tiptoes to kiss the small freckle on his top lip. the one you loved so much. he chuckles against your lips.

“i could’ve joined you,” he slips his hands around your waist.

“it’s okay, i wanted some time to myself. plus, i didn’t want you to get too tired,” you sigh at the feeling of his hair against your fingers. “dinner and a movie?” you ask, changing the topic. he nods, kissing your cheek before sliding his hand down to your ass, grabbing your phone from the back pocket of your jeans. “want to order in?”

“ooh, max, you’re going to have to work out extra hard tomorrow, then,” you tease him. you watch him roll his eyes as he turns on your phone screen. his eyes scan over an unread text from an unknown number.

‘tomorrow at 5?’ it read, max frowns.

“what happens tomorrow at 5?” he asks, you turn your head, grabbing the phone from his hand.

“hmm… maybe they’ve got the wrong number,” you answer, deleting the message and locking your phone. “what do you say we go to ‘la vie est sucrée' after we're done eating?"

"you've read my mind, schat," max pecks your lips, your body relaxing as you realize you're safe for now.

weeks later, max slides his arms through the sleeves of his racing suit, zipping it up and sticking the velcro patches together. he's getting ready for the next race, an important one that might secure an advantage in the world championship.

he's in his driver's room, looking at his reflection in the mirror, and he can see the empty couch behind him, where you should be sitting.

max verstappen has never been a superstitious man, he's never had an official pre-race ritual other than the usual physical and mental preparation. but, since this season started, he's found himself needing one thing before every session. your phone number is always at the top, his most recent call, or text. so it's second nature by now, that when he opens his phone app, his thumb immediately taps the first contact that appears on his screen.

he lifts the phone up to his ear, hearing the annoying monotone beeping that connects the call, waiting for the moment he can finally hear your sweet voice again. but, it doesn't happen. it takes him a second to realize that you aren’t answering. he frowns at his phone, as if it were responsible for you not picking up. he tries again, only to be met by the same scenario one more time.

he takes a deep breath, choosing instead to open a voice memo you sent him a few weeks ago.

“hi, love, i know you’re probably asleep right now, and i probably will be by the time you wake up. but i just wanted to say that i just landed here, and i already miss you so much. i will try my best to get back home as soon as i can. i love you, and i can’t wait to see you again, max.”

he sighs, realizing that this will have to be enough for now. he’s used to hear his name, he once tried to count each time someone said it, but he lost count after 32, and it was only 8 am on a friday, where he only had to do two practice sessions and the press conference. he figured it’d be ten times worse on a race day. he’s so used to hearing his name that sometimes by the end of the day, it doesn’t even feel or sound like a word anymore.

but when you say his name, it somehow sounds different. maybe it’s the way you say it, or when you say it. since the start of your relationship, you were quick to find a nickname for him, asking him how to pronounce loving pet names in his mother tongue, which you used more often than his name. except for when he’s just about to get in his car. every time you talk, you always end the call with a sweet ‘good luck. i love you, and i can’t wait to see you again, max.’

his race doesn’t go as expected. he’s finally able to sit down after a demanding two hours in the car, and over thirty minutes of media. he locks himself in his room, placing his hands on his face as he lets out a sigh of frustration. all he wants to do is jump on a plane and fly home.

“max! we need you for the debrief!” someone knocks on his door, and max drops his shoulders, feeling a small ache forming in the back of his head.

“in a bit!” he yells back, grabbing his phone and tapping his screen. he runs a hand through his hair as he waits, but you don’t pick up again. he gets up, walking to the door and out of his room, he’d rather be over with this now and go home as soon as he can. the meeting doesn’t take too long, everyone already knows what went wrong in the race, max simply wasn’t focused. no one knew why. except him.

as he takes the elevator to the penthouse, he already has his keys in hand, ready to drop his bag next to the door and wrap his arms around you, hear you call his name, finally.

the moment his flight was about to take off, he texted you, and he did the same as soon as he landed. since it’s pretty late, it doesn’t surprise him that you haven’t answered or read the messages. but what does surprise him is seeing all the lights off once he opens the door. you always left the light in the hallway on, just in case.

after a quick inspection, he grabs his phone and calls you again, putting the call on speaker as he types a message at the same time as the irritating beeping flies to his ears again. he’s starting to get worried now, you haven’t answered all day, and you’re not home at almost 2 am.

he feels his heartbeat quickening in his chest, searching each room again, thinking that he probably missed you, for some reason. the beeping is driving him crazy now, and you’re still not answering.

‘where are you?’ he thinks, pacing back and forth as he’s met by the voicemail again.

the front door opens, you freeze as you see max standing there.

“max?” your voice is soft, a frown between your eyebrows. “what are you doing here? i-”

“where were you? are you okay?” he is quick to run to you and envelop you in a hug.

“yeah, i’m okay. but max, what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be-”

“i flew here straight after the race. i- i couldn’t focus, it was a shit show, and i- why weren’t you answering your phone?” his face is pure worry. you scold yourself internally, wrapping your arms around his neck and placing your hand on the back of his head, pushing his head toward the crook of your neck.

“i’m sorry, i was going to call you on my way here but i think i lost my phone and i- i’m sorry,” you mutter, feeling extremely guilty about not being there for him, “i didn’t call you,” you remember, “i’m so sorry, max.”

there it is. his name leaving your lips. that’s all he needs, all he needed all day long.

the tension that had been building on his shoulders throughout the day disappears, he drops his body weight, and you wrap your arms tightly around him, holding him up.

“you’re okay. i’m okay, come on. let’s go to bed, okay?” your voice is soft and careful, you turn your head and kiss his cheek. “come on,” you move your body, walking backward, still holding onto max, trusting the muscle memory as you make your way blindly to your bedroom.

he’s sleeping soundly when you wake up. soft snores leaving his parted lips as you lean on your side and press a kiss to his cheek, not wanting to disturb him too much. you walk to the bathroom and hop in the shower.

max wakes up to an empty bed, but he can still feel a little warmth on your side of the bed. he stretches, arching his back off the bed as he grunts and feels his bones cracking. he hears the shower running, and as much as he’d like to stay in bed and wait for you, his grumbling stomach makes him get up and prepare something to eat, since he didn’t eat anything after the race.

he puts on a light shirt, runs a hand through his hair, and walks to the kitchen. max opens the fridge, eyes scanning it but nothing catches his attention, same with the pantry. a thought runs through his head, he’ll allow himself one more cheat day, you both deserve it after yesterday.

he turns to go back to the bedroom, but a knock on the door makes him walk the other way. he finds a young man, probably about his age, standing on the other side.

“um, hi- is (y/n) here?” he asks, and max frowns immediately.

“who are you?” he questions.

“i’m finn, you-you’re max, right?” max nods once, stern eyes staring at the guy on the other side of the door, “can you give this to her? she left it at my house last night,” he lifts his hand, holding your phone.

“sure,” he says, his throat closing and his mouth going dry. the guy nods his head, turning his back to max and walking away. max closes the door, leaning against it as he looks at your phone.

he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s still feeling the stress from yesterday, or because he hasn’t eaten anything in over twelve hours, but his mind is running over a hundred miles an hour.

“max, what are you doing?” you ask him, walking to him. your hair is wet, obviously from the shower, and you’re wearing one of his shirts, a sight that never failed to comfort him.

“some… some guy named finn came by and dropped this off,” he hands you your phone, walking to your shared bedroom. “i thought you’d lost it,” his words are short, straight to the point.

“i-i did, i-” you start, trailing after him. “max, i-”

“is that why you didn’t pick up? why you didn’t answer any of my calls or texts yesterday?”

“it’s not- he’s not- it’s not what you think!” you say, wondering if he really is thinking what you think he is.

“my race was shit, (y/n), did you even see it? did i even cross your mind at all yesterday?” he turns around to look at you, “i don’t remember the last time i felt like this, all because i couldn’t talk to you before a race,” he chuckles humorlessly, “i feel pathetic now, knowing that i was having one of the worst days of my entire career because i let myself care too much about someone, and i don’t know what-”

“i love you!” you blurt out, cutting off his rant. the words feel foreign on your lips, even though you’ve practiced them too many times by now.

“what are you-”

“i love you,” you repeat, slowly, this time. letting him hear the soft struggle with the unfamiliar language. “i am sorry i wasn’t there for you yesterday. i truly am. you have no idea how bad i felt when i got home last night. seeing you, broken like that, it broke me. but max,” you switch to the more familiar language, “max it really is not what you think. finn has been teaching me how to speak dutch, like you probably noticed.”

he’s left stunned for a few seconds, simply staring at you, hearing what you have to say.

“and i am sorry that i wasn’t there for you, but we’d been practicing this… speech that i was going to tell you, and-”

“why? why are you… why do you want to learn dutch?” he asks.

“because it’s your first language, and i want to understand what you and your family speak about without you having to explain everything, and i want to understand the words that have no translation to other languages,” you start in english, switching to dutch for the next part, “and i want to understand all the curse words you yell and whisper when you’re mad,” you chuckle, taking a step toward him and gently grabbing his hands with yours, letting him slot his fingers between yours.

“and i want to tell you how much i love you. in every language that exists.” you continue, letting go of his hands and bringing yours up to his face, cupping his cheek. “so, ik hou van jou,” that one came easily, since you’d been saying it ever since you started dating, the very first dutch phrase max taught you, “je t’aime,” you feel his hands on your waist, “te amo,” you kiss his cheek, “i love you,” you say, your lips touching his. ”i love you, max verstappen.”

max verstappen had always been good with words, but right then, he was speechless. no words could explain how he felt at that moment, how much he loved you, completely. if the previous day was an example of what his life would be like without you by his side, he didn’t know how he’d survive if he lost you.

“i’m sorry,” he starts, but you shake your head.

“don’t worry, i know you trust me, and i trust you. and i know that this was because of everything that happened yesterday adding up.” he nods his head immediately, confirming your thoughts. “and i am really, truly sorry that i wasn’t there for you yesterday,”

“i’m not the superstitious kind, but i guess i… i got used to hearing you, and yesterday i- i didn’t feel like myself. i will need to work on that, i can’t keep bothering you in the middle of your day and your responsibilities, just because i-”

“what if you didn’t have to?” you ask, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “what if you didn’t have to call me and- instead i… i could tell you how proud i am, how i am your biggest fan, perhaps even give you a kiss, before you jump in the car?”

“you mean- you- you’d like to-” his eyes go wide, and you feel him tightening his hold on your hips.

“if you want to, i just-”

he cut you off by pressing his lips against yours, moving in perfect sync, at a sweet, slow rhythm.

“i’ll take that as a yes?” you raise your eyebrows once he leans back a little.

“if you come with me to the paddock… there’s no turning back,” he’d been careful with keeping you safe, your relationship was the one thing he could have all for himself. and he knew how nasty things could get once you went public.

“i’m not afraid. and i want to be with you and support you in every way i can,”

“okay,” he says, smiling as he feels your hands in his hair.

“okay, then,” you’re grinning now, wrapping your fingers on his soft strands. “i like your hair like this,”

“i think i need a cut,” he says, but you shake your head.

“i think it’s perfect,”

“you are perfect,” he replies, making you smile and laugh softly.

“how does madeleines for breakfast sound?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“perfect.”

[mxchellesworld]

Discuss!

Spencer Reid x Reader

Synopsis; Where the team discusses the question ‘do you kiss after head’, you find out Spencer has too little experience to answer the question so you help him out

Warnings; smut, oral (male receiving), sub!spencer, praise, slight degradation 

a/n; LMAO im so sorry for disappearing again life has been actually kicking my ass but anyways lately i’ve been thinking about subby early season spence so here we go,, hope you enjoy!

***

Another Friday night and the team was out bar crawling after an easy case. But this time all members were there as it reached 11pm which was rare. Usually Hotch and JJ would have been home by 10:30 and Spencer wouldn’t have been there at all. But there was something light in the air which had all parties concerned sitting packed in a booth, laughing after each sip of their drinks. 

Since it wasn’t your first rodeo together you knew how the night went. It started off with Rossi offering to buy the first few rounds, always whiskey but he made an exception for Penelope. Then again who would deny her anything. 

Once the drinks were flowing and lips got a little loose, the questions would start popping in at the top of your heads. However these were not your run of the mill, ‘hows so and so doing?’ ‘done your taxes yet?’ oh no. The name of the game was discuss where you would all think of a question which would help you dig just a tiny bit deeper into your coworkers sex lives. 

Maybe if you were all sober then you’d avoid thinking of each other in such positions, pun intended, yet in this state your prying minds were open and your stomachs were ready to grow abs from bending over in laughter. 

You raised the margarita glass up clinking it with a fork to get the tables attention. Everyone including Aaron had a smile on their face, ready to hear the intrusive question for the night. 

“Ok my fellow profilers, doctor, and tech genius,” you added pointing at Spencer then Pen, “Do you kiss your partner after they give you head? Discuss!” you finished in your most formal voice. 

Right as you took a swig of your drink the mixed responses of yes and no filled your small space. 

“Why wouldn’t you? You guys especially, if someones willingly trying to swallow then you damn well owe them a kiss,” Emily finished earning nods and ‘exactly’s from JJ, Pen, and yourself. 

“Ok but thats weird. I just can’t explain it but its a no go for me,” Morgan finished. This only gained him a scoff and raised voices, “Hotch man help me out here,” he said looking over to the man hiding his smirk behind the amber liquid. 

“I have to agree with the ladies here Derek,” he said curtly. 

The girls yelped and hooted at Hotch for siding with them while Morgan sat with his arms crossed being the singular person left out as even Rossi agreed. Meanwhile you noticed the presence next to you had shrunk back and wasn’t too active in the conversation. 

“So Spence do you kiss your partner after they,” you trailed off shaking your fist by your cheek and poking your tongue in the side. 

He coughed as he instantly sat up quicker. Even under the dim lights of the bar you could still see the blush creeping up from his neck to his ears and the slightest tint on his cheeks. 

“Oh I uh- I never-” he said looking anywhere but your eyes. 

“You don’t kiss them?” you said raising your brows. 

“No! I-i mean yes. I would I think b-but I haven’t had the chance to actually partake in such.. activities,” he finished finally taking a look into your eyes. 

You could tell he was waiting for you to laugh in his face for being so inexperienced but you felt far from it. If anything you wished you could be the one to show him things. 

That sweet boy had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it. Maybe it was his naivety considering how exceptionally smart he was. Or maybe it was the cute sweater vests he wore and now he nervously tucked his hair behind his ears. All you knew was that you wanted Spencer Reid and tonight was your night to make it happen. 

You hummed taking in the information, “Well that’s not a bad thing Spence. Everything takes time,” you said putting your hand on his arm for comfort and giving him a smile. 

Going to turn back to face the table you almost didn’t hear Spencer go to speak again, “Do you?” 

Got him.

“Why don’t you find out pretty boy,” you said with a wink as you downed the rest of your marg. In the corner of your eye you could see Spencer shifting in his seat, subtly moving his bag to cover the slowly growing tent in his slacks. 

As the night went by you couldn’t help but really give him a show. You had popped open a button or two on the long sleeve you had on, since it was getting stuffy in the booth. Though when you leaned forward and jutted your chest out, the soft inhale of a breath from the man next to you was just serving as motivation to get bolder. 

For the last hour you called it quits on the alcohol and drank a few glasses of water before you drove home. Spencer had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since your little interactions. 

The team had all gotten up to say their goodbyes. Rossi going by and giving everyone a kiss on each cheek. Derek having to quite literally rangle Penelope from talking to passing by groups on their way out. Then there were two. 

You turned to the side where Spencer was nursing on his coke, “Hey pretty boy, it’s late, let me give you a ride home,” you said grabbing your belongings. 

“Y-yeah ok. Thanks Y/n,” he said getting up. You’d noticed how he still had the burnt orange bag over his crotch. He couldn’t still be hard could he? Well you’d love to find out. 

As gentlemanly as he was, Spencer opened the door for you to exit the building first. The whip of fresh night air cooling on your exposed chest and legs under your skirt. 

You unlocked your car and stepped in, Spencer waiting to hear the little beep signaling his side was open. As he sat down you heard him let out a little whimper. Your head shot over to look at him, you could tell from the flush on his cheeks he didn’t mean to let the noise out. 

Holding in your chuckle you started the ignition and pulled out of the lot, “Can I put on some music?” 

“Yeah I don’t mind,” he said looking over at you with his lips in a line. If it was anyone else, they’d probably think he was uncomfortable but you loved his tiny awkward smiles. 

The ride to his apartment was mostly silent besides a rare quip from Spencer about paper work or fact about an older building you had passed by. It fascinated you to no end hearing him talk. Spencer was a hand speaker, meaning he always used his hands waving them around and making gestures. The pale digits had you captivated. Probably a driving hazard but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. 

You pulled up into one of the visitor spots and put the car in park. You looked over to see Spencer almost contemplating something. You’d seen the look on his face before when he was looking over puzzles. 

“Somethin on your mind Doc?” you said with a small smile. As cute as he looked when he was nervous, you’d never want him to feel uncomfortable around you. 

“Would you-,” he cleared his throat, “Wo- Would you maybe want to c-come inside?” 

“Of course Spence I’d love to,” you finished with a reassuring nod. 

As he led you upstairs you were giddy with anticipation. So what if nothing happened. He was your friend first and you were glad he was letting you into his personal space. Even if you wanted nothing more than to have him writhi-

“Y/n?” 

The door closing snapped you out of your thoughts. You didn’t even realize you were in his living room. The dark green walls and shelves bursting with books put a grin on your face, “Sorry Doc, just caught up in my thoughts. What did you say hun?” 

His brows practically raised to his hairline from hearing the pet name. While he was used to the names coming from Garcia they took a whole different light coming from your lips. 

“I was asking if you wanted water or something,” he said fiddling with the keys in his hands. Eyes darting everywhere but your face so you wouldn’t be able to see the flush rising on his cheeks. 

“No I’m fine thanks for asking though,” you said taking a seat on the worn leather couch. 

You reached for the tv remote making a face at Spencer to ask for permission. He nodded and you settled back turning on an old sitcom that played late at night. 

As the episode ended you both sat in silence. Again you didn’t mind but you could practically hear the cogs moving in Spencer’s brain. 

You were about to speak when he cut you off before you could even get a word out, “What did you mean by ‘why don’t you find out’.”

Gaining confidence you moved closer to where he was on the couch, slow enough for him to stop you in case he wanted to back out. 

“Well you have options pretty boy,” you said moving a leg to straddle him. Your hands instinctively going to his brown locks. You could’ve sworn you heard a little moan leave his chapped lips. Noted. 

“W-what are the options,” lust blown eyes looked up to yours. 

“One, you can put that mouth to good use on me,” you said trailing your finger over his bottom lip, “and let me cum over that pretty face.” 

His eyes shut hearing your words and you weren’t having it, “Nuh uh eyes on me honey,” instantly they were back on yours. 

“Or number two. I can suck you off and let you cum down my throat, but,” you paused making sure to roll your hips on his growing length, “ you have to give me a nice big smooch after.” 

The hands on your hips pulled you closer as he bucked his hips into you as you finished the sentence. It was clear which option was preferred. 

You moved to slide down in between his legs. You let your hands trail down his clothed thighs, causing him to jump. 

“Tsk such a needy boy,” you said mockingly, “Am I not going fast enough baby?”

“Please Y/n,” he all but whimpered. It was like music to your ears. 

Your hands went to his belt, looking up in his eyes for a final sign of permission. Once he nodded you quickly undid it and he lifted his hips to help get his pants down. You palmed him over his boxers, feeling the wet patch where he was already leaking pre cum. 

“Is this all for me Spence? Does the thought of my lips around you make you this hard,” you said taking him out of the striped confines. 

“Oh god please just,” he cut himself off. You could see his hands curling fists besides his legs. 

“Please what baby? I can’t give you anything unless you ask.” Your hands continued their task of leisurely stroking his length. 

“Fuck please put your mouth on me,” he rushed out, hips bucking to prove his point. 

The answer was good enough for you so you wasted no time in leaning forward and taking him in your mouth. Both of you let out content sighs as you tried to take him further. 

You looked up to see him with his head leaned back, eyes scrunched closes in pleasure. 

You pulled off with a pop, letting your hand work him over. “Better keep those pretty eyes on me before I decide you can’t finish.”

He looked down with a flash of worry, that was quickly replaced by a loud moan as you spit down on his cock before taking him in your mouth again. 

For a germaphobe, Spencer loved how nasty it was. He was thanking god or whatever higher being there was for giving him his eidetic memory because the sight below him was something he’d never wanna forget. 

Your eyes were teary and you had spit dribbling down your chin but he wanted nothing more than to give you more than just a kiss after you finished. Or well after he finishes. 

You could tell he was close by the way he was throbbing on your tongue. Again taking him out of your mouth you used both hands to jerk him off. 

“You’re doing such a good job baby. So good for me. You wanna cum in my mouth pretty boy?”

“God Y/n I’m so close please please please,” he whimpered out. 

“Cum for me baby, be my good boy Spence,”  you said before taking him down your throat. He was big, not girthy but long and it was a struggle but you’d be damned if you didn’t try to take him all. 

Hollowing your cheeks you bobbed your head quickly, egging on his release further. His hands finally found a place in the back of your head. Pushing you down further as he came. 

“F-fuck Y/n I’m gonna”

His moans and whines were a symphony of sounds you’d have on repeat in your head forever. 

You swallowed the salty release but before you could even wipe your lips you were being pulled up by Spencer placing his lips on yours. You moaned into the kiss, his hands gripped the sides of your face not wanting to let you go. 

The need for air made you both pull back. You looked at one another, chests heaving and looking like you ran a marathon. 

Then a sad look came across his face. 

“Spencer what’s wrong?” 

“You didn’t get any pleasure,” he said looking like a hurt puppy. Oh your sweet boy. 

“It’s ok baby, I can take care of myself,” you tried to shrug off.

He was quick to push you back on the couch, taking the spot you were previously in. His warm lips trailing down your exposed thighs. 

“I wanna do it, but only if you kiss me after.” 

[lubdubsworld]

⋆⋆✵ Perfect Imperfections ✵⋆⋆

Chapter 1

Genre : Arranged Marriage AU! Angst! Explicit Sexual Content.

Rating : 21+

Warnings : Ableism , Chronic disability. OC has limited use of her left leg, Emotional infidelity? Mild Cheating ( nothing very physical.. a kiss or so )

Summary : Marrying Jungkook is a mistake. Falling in love with him? Definitely the worst exercise in masochism .

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

No one tells you how easy it is to imagine yourself in love with a beautiful man. Especially when you don’t have a clear understanding of what love actually is. 

When I met Jungkook, even knowing he was in love with my sister hadn’t done much to douse the flames of hope and attraction. He was a lot of things that other men in my life weren’t. Kind without being pitying. Concerned without being overbearing. He took care of me without making me feel helpless. And there was always such a thin line between these things that I found myself impressed by his ability to toe the line so well.

Jungkook took care of me without making me feel like a burden and I suppose, some part of me had assumed that this could, in due time turn into love. But I was clearly wrong.

Jungkook and Liza had been kissing in the hallway of their hotel room and someone had taken pictures. My father and his had managed to get them taken down but the news was already out, spreading like wildfire . My phone began ringing sometime around eight in the morning and hadn’t stopped. It was now a little past one in the afternoon and I felt queasy, despite the assurances that it was all being taken care of.

It was the pity in everyone’s face that I couldn’t bear.

I wasn’t hurt. Angry, yes? Upset? Of course. But I wasn’t hurt because there really was nothing to be hurt about. Jungkook didn’t love me. He was in love with my sister . He had made it clear, through his words and his actions, over and over again. At this point, I could see this debacle as nothing more than a possible way to get out of the marriage. Perhaps, my father would approve of a divorce?

I glanced at the article again.

The photo is just so annoyingly clear, I thought with a grimace. If it was a little blurry, I could convince myself it wasn’t him and her. But it was clear. That was my husband with his lips locked with my sister’s. Against my better judgment, I read the article again. It was a gossip column, of course there would be nothing good in there. But sometimes curiosity can be a persistent thing.

I felt my skin crawling as I realized that the phrases were all pretty true. There was no gossip here. Just plain facts.

And then my eyes reached the end of the article.

Of note is the fact that Jeon Jungkook’s wife is disabled and perhaps the virile young man is merely looking for pleasure he can’t find in his own marital bed.

I swallowed, quickly exiting the page and tossing the phone on the bed, away from me. I stared out of the window of our bedroom, the large doors left open to let air and sunlight in. There was a tall sycamore tree right outside out bedroom and the branches almost reached in and I stared at the rustling leaves, trying to scrub my mind clean of the words I’d just read.

But it was impossible.

It wasn’t something I hadn’t thought of. The stark difference between me and Jungkook, physically. He spent five days a week in the gym and they were right. He was a young man with healthy sexual appetites.

I’d never cheat on you. Jungkook’s voice from a week ago still echoed somewhere inside my skull.

I sighed, playing with my wedding ring.

I wasn’t a virgin when I married Jungkook. Hadn’t been one , when I got into the accident either. My then boyfriend, a tall strapping lit major had been a very sexual guy as well and our libidos had matched pretty well. But I’d been an athletic nineteen year old, able to bend like a pretzel at his whim and there was just endless time and endless stamina and just a whole lot of attraction . We had spent hours, exploring each other the way college kids do. Weekends in bed spent trying every possible permutation of sex positions and kinks and I’d discovered all the things I liked. All the things I didn’t.

But then the accident had happened and well, when you’re in crippling agony, sometimes sex takes the backseat. I’d been focused on my recovery, on making sure that I came out of this at least with the ability to walk and I’d succeeded. Burying the part of me that craved a man’s touch, it wasn’t easy but it was necessary.

And then Jungkook had happened.

Sex with Jungkook hadn’t been difficult. Not really. I wasn’t completely crippled after all but it was also nowhere near as exciting as it could be with someone who had full use of her legs. I knew that. It was kind of obvious. But I hadn’t dwelt too much on it because to be honest, Jungkook hadn’t looked like he’d minded. He had seemed to enjoy himself .

But then reading about how he probably hadn’t enjoyed it definitely stung.

Worse yet, probably half the country was reading it with me. I felt nauseous. Did no one think that they should have left the last part out of that article? It was terrible enough without adding that bit about me.

A faint buzzing made me turn to the bed.

I glanced at my phone as it rang, my father in law’s name prominent on the screen.

Showtime, I thought with a grimace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I suppose it was too much to hope for , expecting that boy  to keep his dignity. This is outrageous.” Mr. Jeon’s loud voice rang through the foyer of the house and I flinched, gripping the edge of the futon as Sana jumped a bit . She sat next to me, holding my hand carefully. Moral support I supposed but I was feeling entirely too blasé about the whole thing. None of this was unexpected, I thought miserably and I wasn’t feeling up to pretending otherwise.

“I still wish they’d talked to me about this.”

My brother in law’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. The man looked like he’d been dragged through hell and back and I felt a pang of genuine sympathy. He looked wrecked and it was obvious she was in love with my sister. Resentment coiled thick and deep inside me. Resentment and envy.

With no effort at all she had charmed both the Jeon brothers, I thought bitterly.

Jeon Jihyun looked absolutely stricken at the thought of losing his wife.  

“I’ve asked Lisa to take the first flight out. She called me this morning, hysterical. It was something done in the heat of the moment. She .. She’s very apologetic. I believe her and I’m willing to forgive her. We’re…. We’re thinking of starting a family together. ” He said softly and my stomach turned.

I felt my skin go ice cold as I wrapped my arms around myself. Shivering just a bit, I lightly squeezed Sana’s hand. She looked at me in askance and I had to swallow to get my voice out, throat dry. The words made me want to retch. I could imagine how Jungkook would take this news.

“Can you get me my shawl? It’s in the green room.” I said hoarsely.  She bowed before moving away from me and when I looked back up, Jihyun’s gaze caught mine.

“This must be hard on you.” He said softly and I flushed, staring down at my knees.

“Not like I can run from it. Literally or figuratively.” I smiled without mirth.

“Jungkook is …he’s just confused. He needs some time to sort himself out. I’ve asked him to take a break and come back to Seoul after a couple of weeks. The separation would do him some good.” Jihyun said quietly and I sighed before nodding. What else was I supposed to say to that anyway? There wasn’t much I could do, my influence on things almost nonexistent at this point.

“Are you going to give the boy a break, Jeon?” My father demanded, staring at Jungkook’s father who sighed.

“Yes. I’ve been trying to get these damned reporters off our back. They’re all over the place. And yes, I think Jungkook should stay in Japan for a while.  We’re starting a new distribution branch there and I wanted him to scout places and possible vendors. I’ll tell him to hash out all the details before coming back.”

His phone rang again and he excused himself . I watched him leave the room, trying to make sense of his words.

How long would it take to build a whole branch in Japan? I had no clue. But it could hardly be done in a few weeks, could it?

“That’s.. That’s a long time.” I said hesitantly and my father frowned.

“is that a problem?” he asked.

I sighed. There was no point keeping this to myself. I was supposed to go to the doctor’s tomorrow. And well, it would be better if they heard it from me first.

“I.. I’m pregnant.” I said quietly.

The silence that followed was deafening. I stared at the carpet, not able to bring myself to look up at them. I could guess, what I’d find there. It was what I always found in people’s faces.

“Oh, sweet child.” My father’s sigh made me look up and there it was. The pity. I felt sick to my stomach. Sana returned, settling the hand knit shawl over my shoulders and I wrapped it tight, before glancing at her in some desperation. She smiled reassuringly, settling next to me and gently taking my fingers in hers. The warmth grounded me for a second and when Jihyun growled, I stared at him.

“I… I didn’t know. Fuck, I’m going to kill Jungkook. This fucker…” Jihyung swore and my father sighed, clearly thinking hard.

“you can’t be staying alone now.” He said softly, sitting up and cracking his knuckles, and I swallowed. I wouldn’t bear it if they tried to take me back home. I had hated it there.

“ You must come back home with me.” He said softly but I quickly shook my head.

“ No.. No I won’t. I … Please.” I begged, the mere idea of going back to my childhood home a nightmare. My mother would kill me with just her sharp and vindictive words. I was in no shape to put up with her verbal and emotional abuse. It was one of the things that had made me agree to marry Jungkook in the first place.

“Well, you can’t stay here by yourself.” My father protested. I’ve been by myself my whole damn life, I wanted to scream.

“I’ll be fine. I have Sana and the others to help me.” I said tiredly. My father shook his head before turning to Jihyun again.

“Is Namjoon still working on his book?” My father asked him and Jihyun frowned. The name elicited a tug in my memory and I turned to stare at my father, confused.

“You remember him? He used to tutor you when you were hi High School.”

I had a brief flashback to dimples and almond shaped eyes. I remembered him vaguely. Very vaguely. But nowhere well enough to want him to live with me, alone or not.  

“Dad…” I protested but he held a hand up to silence me, nodding at Jihyun .

“Namjoon? Kim Namjoon? ” He shook his head. “ I’m not sure. Why?”

“I think it would be good if he moves in here. His father was telling me that he was looking for a place to stay, now that he’s moved back to Korea. ” My father said softly, staring at me and I stiffened.

“Father…” I began desperately and my father shook his head.

“Don’t argue. He was a dear friend of yours. I don’t think you should be alone at a time like this. And I think Jungkook would approve. Like Jihyun said, the kid needs some space to sort himself out. Let him finish whatever business is going on in Japan.” My father glanced at Mr. Jeon who looked at me with guilt.

“I owe you an apology , on behalf of my idiot son.”

I looked away, not sure what to say to that. I hated the man quite passionately. Jungkook wasn’t perfect… far from it. But this man had taken a sledgehammer to my husband’s mind and heart at every turn. The disdain, the condescension, the sick way he favored his brother over him, the way nothing Jungkook did was ever good enough. It had all taken a toll on my husband. I had watched it chip away at Jungkook’s self confidence, at his mental health.

“I think more than anything, you owe an apology to your son. You knew he was in love with Lisa and yet…. You forced him to marry me.” I said quietly and the room went eerily quiet. My father rounded on me , eyes blazing.

“Leah!!! Apologize, now!” He roared and I looked away.

“You’re all the same. Ungrateful and entitled.” Mr. Jeon said sharply, before turning to his son. “ I’m leaving Jihyun-ah. Tell me when that wife of yours get home. I want to talk to her.”

He shared a half hug with my father before stalking off and my father grabbed his jacket as well.

“I’ll leave as well. Your mother is being quite hysterical. Apparently, all her friends are hounding her about the article.” He sighed and I nodded , watching him shrug on the jacket before nodding at Jihyun and then following his friend out to the front doors.

Jihyun stayed standing , watching my father’s form disappear through the door before turning to me.

“ Are you alright?” He said quietly, moving to kneel in front of me. Sana stood up, bowing before leaving and I watched her disappear into the hallway leading to the kitchens. Jihyun’s fingers wrapped around mine, brushing my knees and I stared down at him.

“The question is, are you alright?” I brushed the hair off his face. He sighed.

“No. No I’m not. I’m angry and jealous and very much filled with resentment towards my brother.” He said honestly and I laughed, tugging on his hand and patting the seat next to me. He straightened before moving to settle next to me and I leaned on his shoulders, sighing as he wrapped on around me, the warmth of his body comforting .

“Are you going to give your marriage a chance?” I asked carefully.

“She told me she was going to break things off for good. We.. We’ve been talking about it. Starting a family, making this work.” He said quietly. I nodded. It was understandable. Unlike Jungkook and I , Jihyun had a responsibility. He would need a son and even though people liked to act like they didn’t care much about gender, like they didn’t care much about having children , it was sort of an unspoken rule. First son of the house ? You had to have a male heir to carry the family name.

I wondered how that conversation had gone between Jungkook and Lisa. It didn’t really match the photo I’d seen.

“I suppose Jungkook probably put up a fight. He genuinely wants to end up with her. He… He tells me often that he loves her and can’t love anyone else. ” I wondered if I ought to feel embarrassed or insulted.

But the truth was, I was numb to a lot of things that had once hurt quite a lot..

The conversation with Jungkook about my pregnancy had definitely cleared things up for me. There was nothing there worth salvaging. Chasing something that wasn’t real , that was foolishness. Especially when I had a very real baby to think about. A child that counted on me to make the right choices.

“I don’t think he did. She spoke to me last night and said that he agreed. Of course that was before the article came out. I’d like to think she didn’t lie to me but I’m not sure.”

I sighed, settling in closer to his chest. He was warm and firm, solid and reliable. I wondered if it would have been easier, if my father had just married me off to Jihyun instead. Jihyun and I …we were alike. We had been friends , even from childhood. Had watched with fond adoration as our younger siblings had fallen madly, wildly in love. Jungkook and Liza had been drawn to each other from the first. Inevitable.

Jihyun and I were more carefree. We didn’t feel things that intensely and perhaps that was why we could sit here in the calm of the afternoon air, quiet and introspective when we ought to be furious and raging.

“ Should we run off together? You and i?” He said suddenly making me laugh.

“Very much incapable of running.” I reminded him with a grin and he squeezed my shoulder .

“I’d carry you.” He said simply.

“Where would we go?” I asked curiously, indulging the fantasy for just a few minutes.

“Somewhere far away. Maybe India? There’s so many people there and we could get lost in the crowds.”

“That does sound appealing.” I smiled and turned to look up at him. His face inches from mine, not as handsome as Jungkook but strong featured and kind. “ But I’m not alone anymore. I have a child.”

His gaze dipped to my lap.

“Yes. Jungkook’s child.” He said thoughtfully.

“No. Mine. Nobody else’s . Just mine.” I said quietly. Jihyun’s gaze softened. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, echoing his father’s words.” On behalf of my idiot brother, I’m sorry.”

And where Mr. Jeon’s words hadn’t made any sort of impact, Jihyun’s made my heart clench and ache in the worst way. Self pity was something I loathed but sometimes, being handed the short end of the stick at every turn in life makes it impossible to not feel sorry for yourself.

Tears stung, welling up in my eyes and spilling over my lashes like water bubbling out of an aquifer.

I blinked slowly, not bothering to wipe them as they traced a path down my face, dripping into the fabric of my shawl. In a moment of clarity I wondered what Jungkook must be going through now. Nothing good for sure.

It definitely said something, that I still worried for him. Sighing, I let Jihyun hug me closer. I would take advantage of his kindness for a few more minutes. It had been a while since someone had held me like I mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I called Jungkook that evening.

It wasn’t an easy choice but my heart ached and my mind raced with unanswered questions. I didn’t want to get lost in my own thoughts so I didn’t overthink it. We were still married. I was allowed to call him.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Where are you?” I asked quietly and Jungkook’s groan made my face heat up a little.

“I… Leah?” He sounded groggy. I glanced at the time. It wasn’t late.

“Are you sleeping?”

He didn’t reply for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry about what happened. We.. We didn’t do anything else. It was just.. it was a kiss. Just that.”

“Are you still in the hotel?” I asked quietly ignoring his words.

“ For tonight, yes. Dad wants me to stay with a friend of his. I’ll be going over to their place tomorrow morning.” He replied .

Silence followed for a few seconds.

“Namjoon is moving in tomorrow.” I said stiffly.

Jungkook didn’t respond for a minute or so.

“Yes. Father said it’s a good idea. And I agree. You shouldn’t be alone while I’m here. He’s right. Hyung’s a nice guy. He’ll help you out.” Jungkook said softly.

“Liza came home. She wanted to talk to me.” I said quietly.

Jungkook didn’t reply and I sighed.

“I told her I wasn’t going to talk to her before I talked to you. I don’t… I don’t want to say anything to her that I haven’t already said before. But I still want to know your thoughts on all this. Your plans, that is. I take it you weren’t happy with her ending things.” I said stiltedly.

Jungkook didn’t reply for a few seconds.

“Things between us ended a long time ago, Leah. It was over when we both agreed to marry other people. Maybe even before that, I don’t know… I … I guess I just didn’t want to acknowledge them.” He said quietly. “ She’s different, now. Even that kiss felt so wrong.  She’s moving on. I’m glad in a way. She deserves better than me. She deserves someone like hyung. He’s better than me in everyway and-”

God I wanted to strangle him.

“So why did you kiss her?” I snapped. “ If you’re so generously letting her go why would you…” I stopped.

“I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me. It was barely for a second.” He muttered. “ whoever it was must’ve been videoing us for a while.”

I had to remind myself that in the grand scheme of things, this little detail made no difference.

“Right.” I sighed. “ So, you won’t be home for a while?”

“Six weeks at least.” He said quietly.

I tried to keep the disappointment down. I still wanted to see him, just to make sure he was okay. But I knew that was just the pregnancy hormones talking.

“Okay.” I said simply.

“How are you? Did you go see the doctor?” He asked softly and the question surprised me. I was half sure he had forgotten.

“No, not yet. Maybe in a couple of days.” I scratched at a small stain on my skirt. Lime juice and baking soda, I thought absently. That should get the stain out.  

“Its pretty late. You should go see the doctor, Leah. I.. I looked stuff up. They say you have to be on pre natal vitamins, folic acid and iron supplements  and you have to have  a balanced diet. I called Sana earlier and told her to speak to our doctor and get a diet chart for you. She said she’ll do it soon. So , please take care of yourself.”

Jungkook sounded entirely serious and as always my brain felt muddled, unable to process why he did the things he did. He had looked things up about the pregnancy and that implied some sort of interest, didn’t it? But ….. he had also kissed my sister so what was I supposed to do with this?

“I’ll call you.” I said shakily, drained. I was done for the day.

“Right.” He said softly. “ Namjoon hyung will be there tomorrow right? Should I talk to him? He could take you to the doctor.”

“No.. That’s fine. I’ll manage.” I said quickly.

“You’re sure?” There was genuine worry there.

“Yes.” I sighed.

“Alright.”

Silence again. I exhaled shakily.

“Should I hang up?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah. Good night. ” He breathed.

“Good night, Jungkook.”

Click.

I stared at the wall, gently lowering the phone and placing it on the bed next to me.

She deserves better than me, his voice echoed in my head.

Well, so did I.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Namjoon looked nothing like the twenty one year old college student I’d seen a decade ago. I knew he was a successful novelist and I’d read all his books. They were mostly philosophical or commentaries on life and emotions. I enjoyed the way he wrote : melancholic and deep but also clear and easy to understand. It was like staring at a particularly deep pool, being able to see all the way down to the bottom because of how clean the waters were. But once you put your feet in, the depth  always surprised you.

“That’s a lot of books.” I laughed, gripping the edge of the door frame as I watched him stumble under the weight of a crate full of bound books. Namjoon’s messy brown hair peeked over the top, and when he adjusted the huge load to stare at me, I caught sight of his handsome face stretched in a dimpled grin, eyes glinting.

“Research.” He grunted, straightening himself up and I watched the flex of his muscles as he carefully moved to place the crate down in one corner of the large bedroom that I’d had cleaned for him. It was on the west wing of the house, parallel to my own bedroom that I shared with Jungkook . Namjoon had spent three years working as a professor somewhere in Indonesia. And I knew that he’d spent a year backpacking all over Scandinavia. I stared at his tall strapping figure, watching him set up his writing space carefully, sorting out boxes and electronics.

He had driven here in his Range Rover and I knew all his clothes were still there in the back of the car.

“Should I ask the footmen to get your clothes?” I asked and he glanced up at me, frowning.

“Footmen?” He looked confused and I rolled my eyes.

“Namjoon…” I said chidingly and he grinned again.

“I keep forgetting you’re filthy rich. Makes me wish I should have beaten Jungkook to the game and bagged myself a rich wife.” He winked. It was a joke but there was no mistaking the hint of interest in his eye. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part. Being married to Jungkook had definitely made me question the attraction I held for men so it felt good, having someone as handsome and whole and successful as Namjoon look at me like that.

“I’ll ask them to get your clothes. You should shower and settle in. We’ll meet for dinner tonight.” I said quickly and he nodded.

“You’re going to be okay heading back to your room? Let me know if you need help.” He pointed at my feet and I nodded. It was sweet of him to offer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner was surprisingly not awkward at all. Namjoon had a lot of interesting stories to share and I found myself clinging to ever word in rapt attention. He spoke about all the folklore he’d run into in different places, how he thought that no matter the culture, there were always some common things you could find in every one of them. He also talked a little about his next book, which he hadn’t named yet.

“It’s about second chances. Forgiving and moving on.” He said, taking another bite of his braised pork and moving to make another lettuce wrap.

“ Heavy stuff.” I said thoughtfully. “ Most of my writing is commercial. I just try to sell stuff to reluctant people. It’s not much but it keeps me occupied and it’s always nice to make money that you can call your own.”

“It’s because you don’t write for yourself. When you start writing for yourself, you can truly be who you are.” He said firmly and I nodded in agreement.

My writing in college had been vivid and bright and filled with life. But after the accident, it had turned grey and gloomy. The words seemed to drip with loss and longing and  I didn’t enjoy it, because it was a reminder that I was no longer the vibrant, attractive fulsome girl I once was.

“Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of.” I smiled. “ Being who I am. I would rather pretend I’m at least a little alright.”

Namjoon stared at me, thoughtful.

“You used to run track.” He said softly and I grinned.

“You remember.” I said, pleased.

“Of course I do and you were captain of the volleyball team as well. You used to organize all those hikes and treks and stuff.��

“Yes I did. I loved the outdoors.” I stared out of the window.

“Loved? Past tense?” He tilted his head. I stared at him, shaking my head.

“What kind of question is that.” I shook my head. “ Look at me. I’m not trekking anytime soon, considering how the last time ended.”

“You can still go out.” He frowned. “ When was the last time you went somewhere?”

I shook my head.

“Oppa…”

“Listen. You know me. You’ve known me for more than a decade. Do you honestly think I’m going to let you rattle around this old house like a ghost when you should be out there taking in all the sunshine you can get?” Namjoon placed his chopsticks down and linked his fingers together, staring at me.

I stared at him, and it was definitely there. The concern, the affection. Not that different from when I was sixteen and struggling to understand what pathos meant.

But now there was a definite undercurrent of attraction. Back then it had been childish, the wild crush of a teenager on her hot tutor but now, now I knew that he was so much more than just a hot guy.

“I’m pregnant.” I said softly, more a reminder to myself than anything else.

Namjoon grinned.

“We’ll steer clear of horse riding and alcohol. Anything else you can just let me know.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“I think I’m getting one now.” I deadpanned.

“Because you’re nervous.” He grinned.

“Because your dimples look too adorable.” I retorted.

He laughed.

“I’ll talk to Jihyun and we’ll go see your doctor first. Then we’ll go out and have  a nice picnic.”

“Namjoon, I can’t…”

“You don’t know that.” He said firmly.” You don’t know if you can or can’t because you’ve never tried. Listen I love picnics and I love going out and I want company. I’m agreeing to be stuck with you for a while and the least you can do is  give me company at a picnic. You know how big a loser I’d seem like if I went by myself?”

It was like I was sixteen again getting brow beaten into things by a tutor who just hated the idea of not getting his way. I shook my head fondly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fourteen weeks. Three and a half months.

I stared at the ultrasound, feeling a multitude of things, not all of them good. The baby was growing well and I had all my prescriptions filled. Namjoon had offered to come with me but I had refused. It was too intimate and he was still a stranger. I did take a photo of the ultrasound and sent it to Jungkook.

/Jungkook called me back almost at once.

“You went to the doctor?” He asked, sounding a little breathless.

“Were you running?” I asked, surprised.

“Not really. I’m supposed to be meeting one of the vendors for lunch and I thought I could walk to the restaurant but its farther than I thought.” He huffed.

“Everything’s fine. Baby’s due in July.” I said quietly.

“Summer. That’s good.” He replied. “Right?”

I hesitated. What did that mean? What did it matter when the baby would be born?

“Because winter would mean it being too cold . Summer we can take the baby out and stuff without worrying too much.” Jungkook said softly.

Oh.

“How’s work?” I asked awkwardly. The non conversation was getting tedious. There was just so much to talk about and it was obvious that both of us weren’t in the mood to actually ask or answer anything worthwhile.

“Did dad say something?” Jungkook asked quickly and I frowned.

“No. Why?”

“He wants me to join hyung in the corporate office. Leave the smelter units.” Jungkook sounded subdued and upset and I felt sympathy well inside me.

“Join him? As what?” I asked quietly.

“Head of the marketing department. I’ll be reporting to Seokjin hyung.” Jungkook had clearly started walking again, breath coming in little exhales.

“You don’t want it?” I asked confused, not sure if this was a good or bad thing.

“I mean… I have a degree in Business and Finance. Hyung’s the CEO , I was hoping I’d be the CFO.” Jungkook sighed, “ But I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t disown me altogether after what happened earlier.”

I stayed quiet and so did he.

“We need to talk . When you get back. You … I know you don’t like sharing about what you feel but you owe me an explanation.” I said firmly.

“I know. But I meant what I said when I left. I’m going to be there for you and the baby. You’re still my wife. That’s not going to change.”

I ran my fingers over the ultrasound.

“Did you also mean the part where you said you can’t stand me.” I said bitterly .

Jungkook didn’t reply.

“I… You know I didn’t. That was just something I said on impulse. I’m sorry. You’re… You’ve been nothing but good to me. And honestly, just the fact that you’re carrying my child is proof that I can definitely stand you.” He sounded just a little hoarse.

I bit my lips, staring up at the door when I heard a knock.

“Leah? I’m going to have some tea in the garden … You wanna come with?” Namjoon’s voice rang through the room and I froze.

“Oh.. Oh.. yes. I’ll be down.” I said quickly, nodding . Namjoon pointed at the phone and gave to thumbs up before moving back out.

“Was that Namjoon hyung?” Jungkook’s voice came over the line.

“Oh… yeah. Yeah, he’s… he wants me to have tea with him in the gardens.” I said awkwardly.

“That’s nice.  You should go. Get out of the house once in a while.” I didn’t know what to say to that so I stayed quiet.

After another minute or so of silence, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“ I got that form you sent in for me to fill, about my medical history. I’ll fill it up and mail it to the doctor’s office. Is that alright?” He asked hesitantly. “ If not I can fly back home. If they need me in person or something.”

I frowned a bit.

“They don’t need you in person, Jungkook of course not. Mail it, that’s fine.”

Another pause.

“This is really happening huh? A baby. We’re having a baby.” The exhaustion in his voice was palpable and I wondered.

“Yes. We are.” I said simply, not having anything else to elaborate on. It was happening. I was torn between pleasure at having something to look forward to and guilt at forcing Jungkook into a role he wasn’t ready for. But , for better or for worse we were married. The child was his. It would be a Jeon.

“ I’ll do better.” He said quietly. “ With the little one. I’ll be better.”

Tears these days, sprung up out of nowhere I thought miserably, furiously swiping at my face.

“Leah?” His voice came over the line. “ Leah are you there?”

“I need to go.”

“Alright.”

“Take care of yourself too, Jungkook.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loneliness .

It’s such an odd sort of feeling. Sometimes you get used to it so much, that you forget all about it.

It stays , a part of you that doesn’t make much of an impression on you until one day, suddenly it becomes unbearable,

Until you get a glimpse of what it’s like to not be lonely.

And then suddenly it’s like a deep chasm of longing and desperation just opens up inside you, craving love and warmth and company with a hunger that feels like it can never ever be satisfied.

I’d never paid much mind to the fact that my life revolved around myself, my writing and the flowers in the garden. Not until Namjoon had come, demanding to be felt and seen and heard .

 Namjoon hadn’t joked about not letting me rattle around the house. Our days were spent sprawled on the lawns of the Jeon estate, each of us occupied with our own writing . Namjoon typed away on his laptop while I preferred my leather bound notebook. It was oddly soothing, lying there on the clean cut grass, the sharp blades rubbing against my bare legs, as I leaned back against a tree trunk, watching Namjoon’s furrowed brows as he wrote.

Namjoon had changed in a lot of ways and yet he was still somehow just as I remembered, focused and often lost in his own head. He was a contemplative man and seemed to spend as much time reading as he did writing.

“There’s a poetry club that meets every Tuesday in Gangnam. Would you like to come with me?” He asked casually, about a week after he’d moved in and I considered it. The paparazzi had finally stopped hanging about the estate and Jungkook had called the previous night with a ETA for when he would be back.

Four weeks at most, he had said firmly and I wasn’t sure if I was feeling all that excited for his return anymore. Days spent with Namjoon were more exciting. He included me in every little thing and I was addicted.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this was probably wrong. Namjoon was sweet and kind but I was still married. But on the wake of that thought came the bitter reminder that there was nothing between Jungkook and I. He was in love with someone else. Why should I deny myself the joy of Namjoon’s company over a relationship that really wasn’t a relationship at all.

Namjoon treated me as an equal, teased and flirted like there was nothing wrong with the two of us living like this, together and away from the rest of the world and I liked it. It made me feel like perhaps happiness wasn’t such an abstract, unreachable thing after all. That perhaps I could find happiness like this. In friendship and mindless conversation with a man who didn’t see me as a burden.

“I’d love that.” I said with a smile, letting my fingers knit together with his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Scorned wife getting even? We spotted the recently cheated on Mrs Jeon getting cozy with a strapping, buff hottie in a private restaurant last Friday and we can’t help but wonder if perhaps the reclusive lady is trying to get back at her husband by flashing her own boytoy.” Namjoon read cheerfully from his phone, looking way too entertained as he showed me the zoomed photo of us holding hands over the dinner table .

“That’s quite the description they’ve put for you.” I grimaced, sipping my chamomile tea slowly. My father and Mr. Jeon had reacted with their usual anger, threatening to sue the gossip rag for libel but it was pointless. They would keep being intrusive rats. There was nothing much to be done beyond enduring them.

“My agent’s losing his mind. He’s been at me trying to get me to agree to book signings and public appearances and he’s pissed that this is the way I get introduced to Seoul’s High society. Poor guy.” Namjoon chuckled and I felt guilt churn.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon. I really didn’t think they’d be following me. I mean… usually they’re only tailing Jungkook but I guess with the whole thing with Lisa , they’re just looking for ways to make things worse.” I said hesitantly.

Namjoon hesitated, staring at me for a few seconds.

“We never really talked about how things are.” He said quietly. “ Between you and Jungkook, that is.”

I ran the edge of my chopsticks on the brim of my soup bowl.

“ There’s not much to say. He’s…. He’s still sorting things out. With my sister.” I smiled a little. It ached a lot less, I realized with surprise.

“They loved each other deeply.” Namjoon said softly. “ that sort of thing doesn’t go away that quickly.”

I nodded.

“Of course. And I’ve been …understanding of that. I like to think.”

“But its unfair to you. You deserve to be loved too. Fully and well .”

I leaned back to stare at him.

“Are you offering?” I laughed, teasing.

Namjoon didn’t smile, leaning forward instead.

“Depends. Will you ever consider leaving him, for me?” He said seriously.

My heart turned over inside me.

“Namjoon…” I choked out and he reached out and lightly touched my palm.

“I know how marriages work with people like you, so I think I should draw boundaries now, if I want to keep myself safe.” He smiled a bit.

“I’m pregnant. With his child.” I swallowed and Namjoon’s brows went up.

“I thought it was your child. Yours and no one else’s.”

I felt torn, staring at him and wanting to say that I didn’t consider Jungkook as the child’s father, not in the way most people did. But I also remembered my husbands determined voice, the way he kept insisting that he wouldn’t neglect the child.

“Its not about Jungkook or the child, Leah. Its about you. You married Jungkook knowing he was in love with your sister and that tells me that you listen to your parents. You don’t want to stand up against the rules set by our parents and I don’t fault you for it. But I can’t let myself fall for you, knowing you’re going to be bound by your obligations to yurr family.”

I shook my head.

“Don’t fall in love with me.” I said easily. “ You’re right. My family comes first. And whether I want to be or not, I’m bound to Jungkook for life. So don’t fall in love with me.”

He smiled and nodded.

“Alright then.”

“Do you want to move out?” I asked bitterly and he looked genuinely surprised.

“What?”

“You clearly think I’m trying to seduce you or something when really, I-“

“Hey. Hey, Leah…no. No alright, that’s not what I meant. These two weeks, it was amazing. I love your mind and you’re easily one of my favorite people on this planet. We’re friends. And we’ll stay friends no matter what but you must know why I said what I said. You’re a beautiful woman and I’m a lonely guy.” He smiled a bit, “ I just don’t want to make it hard for myself when you want me to leave.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook arrived back in Korea on a cold, rainy morning and against my better judgment I let Jihyun and Lisa drag me to the airport. It was some kind of publicity stunt, that much I could fathom but I didn’t know if Jungkook was in on it. I hadn’t spoken to him in a few days, he had been busy wrapping things up with the new branch in Japan.

It was another bad day for my leg and I found myself leaning heavily on my sister, her arm wrapped around my waist as we walked over to the waiting area. I could already identify a few men with cameras staring at us discreetly. Paparazzi . I saw them move their cameras down to the now obvious curve of my stomach and I swallowed. I could already imagine the articles wondering who the father was : Jungkook or Namjoon.

“You alright?” My sister asked worriedly and I nodded, not looking at her. Lisa hadn’t been discouraged by initial refusal to speak to her, keeping at it till I finally caved and let her visit me at the estate. She didn’t love Jungkook anymore, she insisted . It was over. They were over . She wanted to give her marriage a chance. Very sweet and nice, that. And it was obvious that she wasn’t lying, what with the way she and her husband kept

Jihyun and Lisa had made amends with each other and it annoyed me that they seemed to be madly in love with each other all of a sudden. Like the past couple months hadn’t even happened. I stared down at my wedding ring feeling stricken. Was it unfair that I resented them for this? Why hadn’t the two of them thought of this, of breaking things off and moving on before the damn wedding. And then maybe Jungkook and I would have had a real marriage too.

Bitter and hormonal was definitely not a good combination I thought with a wince, fingers splaying on the curve of my lower belly. It was so odd, being pregnant. The extra weight somehow foreign but also …so soothing. The last scan had shown that I had an anterior placenta and that meant that I may not feel movements for a while. I didn’t mind, having found comfort in just tracing my palm over the bare skin of my stomach.

“There he is.” Jihyun’s voice made me look up and ure enough there he was.

It wasn’t the longest we’d been away from each other and yet, I felt my heart leap at the sight of him. He truly was a very handsome man, I thought miserably. And no matter what people said, it was infinitely more difficult to hate your husband when he looked that good.

Jungkook’s eyes caught mine first and I saw the way his gaze dipped straight to the curve of my bump. Even from the ten feet between us , I saw hi lips part in surprise , eyes going wide. It probably hadn’t felt real to him till now, I thought biting my lips as he carefully handed his bags over to the two chauffeurs who had rushed to help him.

Jihyun wasted no time in bounding over and hugging his little brother tight.

I glanced at the man who had been taking photos, pleased to see the surprise in his face. Was he hoping that the CEO would punch his little brother in the face ? Idiots. Lisa stayed by my side and I exhaled shakily.

“ Dad told me something and I want to know if its true.” I said quietly.

She didn’t reply.

I took a deep breath, still watching the two brothers embrace each other, Jungkook’s face buried in Jihyun’s shoulders. I could see him shaking just a little and I felt my gut clench.

“He told me that …that you never told him that you wanted to marry Jungkook. That when he suggested Jihyun you agreed at once.”

She looked away.

“Lets talk about this later.” She said quietly.

“Does Jungkook know?” I demanded. “ Because he spent that first month of our marriage cursing our father out for forcing you to marry Jihyun. Forcing. And dad says that he did no such thing. So what is the truth.”

Lisa didn’t respond.

“Jungkook  knows.” She said finally, “ I told him… the truth. When we were in Japan.” and I laughed in disbelief.

“Was that before or after you kissed him?” I snapped and she looked genuinely pained.

“Leah, I never meant to hurt you or Jungkook.” She said shakily.

“My God.” I shook my head. “ I always knew you were a selfish, greedy person but I didn’t take you for being a liar and a deceitful coward. ”

She stared down at her feet.

“Yes. I’m greedy..”  She whispered “ And you may not understand it now but I did it for you and for Jungkook.”

She moved away and I watched as Jihyun pulled away from Jungkook, still holding his arm as he held a hand out to Lisa. The smile on her face seemed genuine as she took her husband’s hand and I shifted my gaze to mine. Jihyun and Lisa walked away to their car and Jungkook stepped closer to me, his face stoic and impossible to read.  

“Leah.” He said quietly, dark hair falling into even darker eyes.

I didn’t reply, merely stepping up to gently press my palms on either side of his face.

“Welcome back.” I said softly, before reaching up and kissing him full on the lips. Jungkook’s entire body went stiff as a board at the gesture but he didn’t pull away , thankfully. It felt cold and impersonal and barely lasted a few seconds but hopefully the man had gotten a few good shots. I closed my eyes for effect, running my thumb over the clean shaven curve of his jaw, before pulling away slowly.

I peered over Jungkook’s shoulder, just to make sure and sure enough, the man was moving closer to get better angles. I smiled a little. Good. That should hold these vultures off for a while. I turned back to Jungkook and his eyes followed my gaze catching sight of the man with the camera and his entire body seemed to go stiff with anger.

“Why did you do that?” He growled and I bit my lips.

“You know why.” I made to turn away but he gripped my arm, hard. So hard that I winced.

“What are you doing?” I asked panicking, glancing at the man who was still watching.

“Since when did you start pandering to those pigs?” He whispered angrily and I flinched.

“Your father wants to introduce you to the Board of directors this weekend.” I whispered quietly, “Most of them read the news Jungkook. The last news about us can’t be about you cheating on me.”

“That’s my business. And I’ll deal with it. We’re not doing this, Leah. I’m not putting on some kind of act just to please my fucking father.” He looked furious and the taut line of his jaw made me flinch.

“I’m sorry.” I said quickly, guilt churning inside me. He was right. I shouldn’t have done that without talking to him about it but I knew that the scandal with him and Lisa wouldn’t go down well with the Board. And the Board generally had a direct say on who got hired to top managerial positions.

“I just want you to get that job.” I said softly and he stared at me, stiff body relaxing marginally.

“Let’s just go home. Yeah?” Jungkook said tiredly and I bit my lips.

Less than fifteen minutes since he came home and we were already at odds with each other.

The most ill suited couple in the universe, I thought with a grimace as he stepped right next to me and wrapped a hand around my waist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had a very terrible tendency to forget taking my pills. So I generally left them by the bedside table. Stepping out of the shower, I found Jungkook sitting on my side of the bed, examining the bottle carefully. I tugged on the white t shirt I had on, suddenly embarrassed because it was Jungkook’s

I’d asked to borrow a couple over the phone,  simply because I no longer fit into my own and the ones I’d ordered weren’t here yet. Jungkook had agreed but still, it felt awkward when he was wearing the exact same t shirt himself.

He turned around when I moved to the vanity to put on moisturizer for the night and through the reflection I saw his gaze linger on my attire.

“Aspirin? Didn’t know that was part of pre natal vitamins?” He said seriously and I blinked., surprised. I turned around to stare at him, licking my lips nervously.

“How much research did you do?” I asked, genuinely curious and he flushed.

“I had a lot of free time. “ He said defensively. “ These six weeks.”

I frowned, before turning back to grab the small pot of night cream from the draw.

“My blood pressure is a little elevated. My mother had pre eclampsia with my sister and they just want to be careful.”

“Pre eclampsia?” Jungkook’s voice was fraught with nervousness and I turned back to see him almost white as a sheet.

“Jungkook…I.. its nothing serious.” I said hastily and his jaw went even more taut.

“What do you mean its not serious? Do you even know what it is?” He demanded.

“Do you?” I snapped back, annoyed at being treated like I was an errant child.

“I know that it’s the leading cause of maternal death during birth.” He all but shouted and I flinched.

“Okay…that’s only in extreme cases.” I held both my hands up. “ it’s a bit too premature to be panicking over that.”

Jungkook opened his mouth, as though to argue but then seemed to calm himself down.

“When’s your next check up?” He asked casually.

“This weekend. But its okay, Namjoon is-“

“I’ll come with you. I.. I want to come with you.” He said quietly.

I stared at him, feeling too awkward to outright refuse.

“You have the meeting with the Board. This weekend.” I said softly.

“So?” Jungkook shrugged. “ I’ll just tell them your appointment and health is more important to me. Besides isn’t that what you wanted? The reason you kissed me at the airport? You want the board to think we’re happily in love. I think that would be an excellent way to show them that. ”

Jungkook stared at me , head tilted curiously, daring me to deny what I had old him myself.

Sighing, I nodded.

“Alright.” I managed a weak smile. “ You can come with me.”

“Namjoon hyung left today, you said?” He asked casually.

I nodded.

“I should send him a bottle of his favorite wine for taking care of you so well. You look good.”

“He did it because he wanted to. Because he enjoyed it.” I retorted, his words rubbing me just a little wrong.

Jungkook smiled although it was more of a smirk.

“I’m sure he did. But I’m here now. And I did promise you that I’ll be there for you.”

“For the baby.” I said sharply, not liking the way he looked. The things he seemed to b implying.” You promised me you’d be there for the baby.”

“And right now, said baby is inside you.” He grinned now and I felt my pulse quicken at the sight. Jungkook didn’t smile with me. It wasn’t something that happened. At all. “ So I’ll have to take care of you.”

I stared at him, biting my lips.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. “My sister told you she never wanted you so now you want to start fucking me again?”

It was cruel. A terrible thing to say and I regretted it at once.

The smile faded.

“What?”

“ I…fuck Jungkook.” I groaned.

“is that what you think of me? Need I remind you that you were the one who came to me all those months ago? I never…. I would never force myself on you, Leah.” He looked like he’d been stabbed and I heart clenched.

“Jungkook , I…”

“I’ve been honest. Through all of this I’ve been honest to you. I lied to your sister, I lied to my father and fuck I even lied to myself. But I’ve been honest with you , Leah.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?!” I cried out, despairing. “ You were in love with my sister and –“

“And she wanted to marry my brother.” Jungkook yelled, standing up and turning to me, eyes blazing. “  All along. Know what she told me Leah? That it was never supposed to be me. That five years of us being together…it was because she was in love with my brother and she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone. She started dating me to make him jealous and when she saw that I spent so much time with Jihyun she stuck around . So she could spend time with him.” He shook his head.

I stared at him, horrified.

“Jungkook….”

“I thought I could never feel more pathetic than when I stood there listening her tel me how she never felt a single thing for me. But wow…. Thank you for proving me wrong. Because right now, standing here begging you to let me a part of the child we both made knowing you only see me as some kind of pervert just looking to get into your bed….” he shook his head,” I feel worse. I feel dirty.”

My throat went dry.

“You know what?” He moved to the closet and to my horror he grabbed a bunch of his clothes and a small suitcase. “ I’m going to go get a Hotel room.”

“What? No… Jungkook, wait!” I rushed to his side, grabbing his arm but he threw my hand off quickly.

“Ask Namjoon hyung to move back in. Better yet, tell dad the truth. That you think I’m disgusting. That the thought of me being in your life makes you sick. Tell him you want a divorce and-“

“It’s a girl.” I exhaled sharply.

Jungkook went completely still.

I swallowed, my heart racing so fast I couldn’t catch my breath.

I took a deep breath and moved to lightly touch his back, fingers splaying on the broad expanse of his shoulder blade .

He turned around at that and my heart lurched at the tear tracks down his cheeks. He looked wrecked.

“ A girl?” He whispered.

I bit my lips, nodding.

“We’re having a little girl.” He looked a little shell shocked.

“Yes. And hopefully, she isn’t as dramatic as her father.” I said softly, grabbing the dozen or so t shirts he’d pulled out of the closet and pushing them back into the shelves.

Jungkook didn’t protest, still staring into space, probably just taking the news in. I felt awful for one second because I hadn’t even cared all that much when the technician had told me.

I closed the closet door and moved back to the vanity trying to process all that had been said in the last five minutes, only to feel a headache come on. I would think about it tomorrow.

I finished braiding my hair when Jungkook’s voice came from the bed.

“If you don’t want me to intrude into your space you can tell me. I’m okay with only getting information about the baby.” He said quietly.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

I turned to him slowly. i took a deep breath, considered that what i was going to say would likely change everything between us. But i had to. 

I’ve always been honest with you Leah, He had said and I decided that perhaps he deserved some honesty in return.

“I think I’m in love with Namjoon.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : these two are such a mess istg. 

ooh i don’t have a taglist for this so please comment if you wanna be on it. 

[nextdoor-neighbors]

Frustrations

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: When making Amorentia in Potions, you and Fred Weasley - who you can’t stand - come to a horrifying realization of who your potions smell like.

A/N: I know this isn’t really how Amortenia works but just bare with me, I liked the idea.

Link to Part 2!

“Today, we’ll be making Amortentia.”

“Ooh,” you say, under your breath, shifting in your chair. You’d heard of Amortenia, so you are excited to see what yours will smell like.

“I swear, you’re the only person in this world to get excited over Potions,” your best friend, Cedric, whispers in return, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m not the only one,” you retort, “don’t forget about Snape.”

“Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Diggory.” 

You look up at the sound of your name, cringing inwardly at Snape’s harsh gaze on you. Normally, your professor didn’t have a problem with you. You could say he liked you, even, considering you were normally the only one in the class to answer his questions.

“Miss Y/L/N. What is Amortentia?”

After rattling off a perfect definition, you hear snickers behind you, which without a doubt in your mind, comes from the Weasley twins. The two boys had always infuriated you with their pranks and their never taking anything seriously. Plus, they always went after you with Bludgers whenever your house played them in Quidditch. You knew they only did things to annoy you because they got a kick out of seeing you get so riled up, but you still fell for it every time.

Snape looks at you once last time before turning away. “Good. But enough with the chitchat in my classroom.”

“Yessir,” you respond, quietly.

Finally, Snape lets you begin. You carefully read through the steps, making sure you measure everything perfectly. Cedric watches you, grinning and shaking his head.

“You really are set on making everything perfectly, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Cedric,” you reply, not taking your eyes off of the substance in the cauldron in front of you, “I really am.”

“Oi, Y/L/N,” one of the Weasleys calls from behind you.

You sigh and turn around, raising an eyebrow as you meet the eyes of Fred Weasley. Fred was most certainly the more annoying of the two, in your opinion.

“What do you want, Weasley?”

“No need to be so harsh. I’m just asking what you think yours will smell like, that’s all.” You can’t help but notice the smirk that plays on Fred’s lips.

You narrow your eyes at him before turning back around. “I hate to break your heart, Weasley, but not you. Not in a million years.”

You risk a glance over your shoulder, just to receive a wink from Fred. “We’ll see about that, darling.”

You turn back around, huffing as you do so, before either of the Weasleys can see the blush spreading on your cheeks. You will it to go away before someone else sees either and gets the wrong idea.

Snape comes over to your table, peering into your cauldron.

“Why don’t you tell the class what yours smells like, Miss Y/L/N, since you’ve finished already?” he drawls, looking at you expectantly.

You lean over your cauldron, inhaling deeply as you try to place the scents that are wafting towards you.

“Mm,” you hum, naming the scents you recognize: “Smoke, like from a firework. And... sweets?” You sit back in your seat, now flushing deeply at the fact that your entire class now knows what you’re attracted to. “I-I think,” you add.

You hear the familiar chuckle behind you, and Snape’s head snaps towards the sound.

“Mr. Weasley,” Snape says sternly, “if you think it’s so funny, and considering yours looks like a disaster, why don’t you come smell Miss Y/L/N’s and tell the class what it smells like to you?”

Fred comes up behind you, so you scoot your chair over slightly so he can smell your Amortentia. You watch as he leans over, his hair falling over his face, and you get a whiff of the smokey scent again. You must be sitting too close to the potion still.

He inhales deeply, a confused look twisting his expression, and sniffs it again.

“Well?” Snape asks, impatiently.

Fred straightens up and shrugs. “Y/L/N is sitting too close to me. All I could smell is her perfume.”

The corner of Snape’s mouth quirks up in amusement as he looks between the two of you.

“That’s all I needed to know. Take a seat, Mr. Weasley,” he says, before turning away and walking to the other side of the room.

You look up at Fred, horror sinking in as you realize what Snape meant. You watch your feelings reflected on Fred’s face and the realization sets in for him, too, and he quickly turns away to head back to his seat.

You risk a look over at Cedric, who’s stifling a laugh.

“Oh, shut up,” you hiss at him, blushing again. Fred Weasley, attracted to you? He couldn’t be. All he did was tease you. And plus, there was no way you were attracted to him in return. I mean, what you smelled...

You start thinking about it, and it all makes sense, but in a terrible way. No, no, there had to be someone else who could be associated with those smells. Right?

Class ends, and you’re still deep in your thoughts as you gather your books. You have a free period next, so you’re probably just going to go hang out with Cedric at the library, like the two of you normally do. But as you’re leaving the classroom, your head lowered, you feel a hand on your back.

You look up in surprise, only to be face to face with Fred Weasley himself.

“What?”

He sighs at you. “Can I just talk to you? Without you hating my guts for five minutes?”

You blanch, guilt settling in at your harsh reaction, so you merely nod and let Fred lead the way down the halls, until you finally find an empty corridor. You both stop, standing somewhat defensively, in the middle of the hallway.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” Fred begins, “or, actually, ever find out, but here we are.”

The boy standing in front of you isn’t the annoying, constantly teasing and joking boy you’ve known for years, and it shocks you. He looks at you sheepishly, waiting for your response. But, honestly, you’re speechless. You’d spent so much time over the years simply looking at the things that irritated you about Fred that you never looked at the good things. For example, you had to admit that he was very good at Quidditch, despite the many times he nearly sent you to the Hospital Wing. And looking up at him now, you can't help notice that he is quite good looking. You’ve never been into gingers, but...

“Find out that you fancy me, you mean?” you ask, cocking your head.

When Fred doesn’t answer right away, you continue: “Why?”

He shrugs, his gaze locked on you, and you see the corner of his mouth beginning to twitch. You knew he couldn’t be serious for long. Oh, no, maybe this is all a joke. Maybe he didn’t actually smell your perfume, and maybe he just said that to mess with you, and-

“Oh, Merlin,” you say, breathily, cutting Fred off before he can even begin to answer your question. You’re so stupid, of course it was a joke. After all, it’s Fred Weasley you’re talking about. And to think, you were actually considering your feelings for him.

“This is all a joke, isn’t it?” you scoff, backing up. You watch as Fred’s face contorts, several different expressions passing over it in a matter of seconds. He steps towards you.

“No, Y/N-“ You can’t help but notice, through your embarrassment and anger, that this is the first time he’s called you by your first name.

“Y/N,” he continues, “it’s not, I-“

You step back once more, fuming, your back hitting the wall of the corridor.

“And how am I supposed to believe that, Fred, when that’s all everything is to you? Right? Oh, except for Quidditch, when you’re trying to kill me!”

Fred’s hand, palm splayed, lands on the brick wall next to your head, making you flinch. He leans close, frustration, heat, and that smokey smell radiating off of him. You look up at him, your heart pounding out of your chest and your breath catching in your throat.

“Y/N,” he repeats, his voice low and husky.

“What, Fred?” you respond when he doesn’t continue, your voice sounding shaky and far-away.

“If you’d just let me talk,” he says, slowly and quietly, making your stomach flip, “instead of being the know-it-all that you are all the bloody time-”

“Then what?” you cut him off, but you just can’t help it, not with all the feelings boiling inside of you. You’re angry and hurt and irritated and just a little turned on and- “Then you could laugh at me and tell me you lied about the Amorentia just to see how I’d react because mine smelled like you and you wanted to humiliate me?”

“Do you ever just stop talking?”

“Listen, you git-”

You’re cut off by Fred’s lips on yours. You fall into the kiss for just a second, taking in the softness of his lips, his smell, his body closing in on yours, and oh, Merlin, the passion and anger behind it, but once you process what’s going on, you put your hands on his chest and push him back, but not too far.

“Fred,” you say, at a loss for words between heavy breaths, because bloody hell, he’s a good kisser.

“Are you going to let me talk now?” he says, stepping back from you, much to your dismay. His eyes are dark, and as you watch him look you up and down briefly, you know it’s over for you. You have to give in. He’s just too damn addicting.

“No, I’m not.” you say, “Kiss me.”

That dastardly smirk appears on his lips as he steps back towards you, closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours again. Next thing you know, his hands are gripping behind your thighs and he’s lifting you, pressing your back against the wall as you wrap your legs around his waist and grab two fistfuls of his hair. The two of you meet each other’s hungry and ferocity, but it’s constantly increasing, as if you just want to one-up each other about who wants the other more. He bites your lip, hard, and you gasp, both from the pain and the pleasure.

“I knew it!”

Fred practically drops you as you both process the voice coming from down the corridor. You scramble to your feet, adjusting your skirt and hair as nonchalantly as possible, turning towards the source.

George Weasley and Cedric stand, staring at you and Fred with amusement. Well, George looks amused, while Cedric looks mostly concerned. You know you’ll have a lot of explaining to do later.

“I- we- it wasn’t-”

Fred picks up his books and begins walking down the hall towards his twin. But not before he turns around and gives you yet another once-over, winking at you with that smirk.

“See you next period, Y/L/N.”

[quindolyn]

Hey I was wondering if you could write a sub!regulus X Dom!fem reader fic?

One where it’s angsty as Regulus had been acting different around the reader, and eventually after being questioned about it alone, Regulus breaks down and admitting his parents forced him to get the dark mark (there was nothing he could do about it), and the reader comforts him while they fuck. Regulus had been through a lot and the reader wants him to know that they love him.

Including: praise kink, subspace regulus, scar/mark kissing, aftercare for regulus, riding, and anything else you think would suit this situation <3

Resilience || Regulus Black

Word Count: 6154

A/N: Do I hate this? Yes, most definitely, without a doubt. Did I only proof read 5/15 pages. Yes, again, certainly. But I'm tired and I'm with my friend so it's not gonna get better than this. I love you all and hope you enjoy it

warnings: pretty much included in the ask, can't really think of anything else

Being light on your feet it doesn’t appear as though Regulus notices you tip toeing your way across the Slytherin common room. As you come up behind him you peer over his shoulder; he has his legs tucked beneath him with what appears to be his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook resting in his lap. Standing over his shoulder you let your eyes scan across the pages laid open and what you first believed to be a chapter on counter curses you realized was actually detailing how to cast the curse.

Realizing what you’d just read you let out a small, involuntary gasp that catches the attention of the boy sitting in front of you.

“(Y/N)!” Regulus quickly exclaims, glancing over his shoulder before slamming the book closed and sliding it into his book bag which sits next to him on the plush, green velvet sofa.

“What was that Reg?” You ask, brow furrowed as your eyes lock onto Regulus’ grey ones.

“Just a book love, that’s all.”

“Your Defense textbook?” You ask, hoping he would slide it back out of his satchel to show you the familiar scarlet cover you’d scratched your initials into on the bottom right hand corner.

“Something of the sort,” He answers vaguely, pushing himself off the couch to face you. Instead of making his way around the couch to meet you he stayed on the other side of the piece of furniture. Feet planted, hands fiddling with each other while instead of making eye contact with you his gaze seemed to be directed just past your right ear.

“Don’t lie to me Regulus,” Your voice is clipped, when you’d come to check in on Regulus after he’d come home from winter break at his dreaded family’s house this wasn’t what you had expected.

Regardless, it was what you’re met with, “What the hell is that book?”

Your voice jumps and you can hear the panic rising in it. Regulus had spent the weeks up to his departure date dreading the time he would have to spend at the Black Mansion. You’d stayed up countless nights, wishing you could somehow keep him from having to go to that hellish house but when it came down to it there was nothing either of you could do.

Finding him pouring over some dark arts book the first time you saw him after nearly two weeks apart wasn’t exactly the reunion you’d been picturing in your head. Nor was it comforting.

You can barely make it out but you believe you hear him whimper something about “it’s nothing” as his gaze drops from just over your shoulder to his toes.

You two stand there for a minute, then two, each waiting for the other to say something, anything to break the tension currently hanging heavy over the room. Regulus silently begging you to let it go, to leave the room and give him some time to stash the book before coming to find you to act as though nothing had happened and it was all fine.

Unwilling to yield, you hold your ground, maintaining your silence while your eyes bore into the top of his head, awaiting his explanation as to what you’d walked into.

You’re the one to finally break the silence.

“If it's nothing, then I’d like to see it Regulus.” It's the second time in the span of five minutes you opt for his full name instead of one of the nicknames coined by his brother, who he’d recently mended things with, and made popular by yourself. You knew it would strike a cord for him but you were scared, you were on the offensive.

With a deep sigh Regulus retrieves his bag from the spot it’d fallen to on the floor, pulling the book from the bag, bound in emerald green, Regulus hold it both far from his body and with a surprisingly tight hold, somehow both wanting it as far from him as possible and not wanting it to leave his grasp.

Though visibly ancient the book appears to be in remarkable condition, engraved on the front cover in gold leaf reads “Mendel's Most Malicious Curses”.

Studying the cover you don’t recognize the book’s title but based on what you’d glimpsed inside of its pages you hadn’t expected to. Even as a fifth year you doubt this would ever be included in O.W.L. curriculum.

Despite knowing better you can’t help but feel a strange, strong attraction to the book, an overwhelming urge consuming you to take that book. Your fingers itch at your sides as you imagine getting your hands on the book, wondering how hard Regulus would fight before relinquishing it from his grasp.

Somewhere in your subconscious you register that these thoughts are not organically your own, that somehow that book is influencing you and that in reality you want nothing to do with it. Frightened thoughts simmer at the back of your mind but they are lost in the shadows of your curiosity regarding the secrets that lie beneath the ornate designs swirling over the cover.

Expectantly you extend your arm, a nonverbal signal for Regulus to hand you the book but your movement throws him into action and has him clutching it close to his chest, both arms cradling the text.

“No no no no no,” He chants frantically, shaking his head as though to shake off the thought of relinquishing the book to you. “I can’t give you this (Y/N),” He swallowed deeply, shining silver eyes seaking out yours, ablaze with conviction.

“And why’s that?” You challenge with a raise of your brow.

Inhaling deeply he seems to be bracing himself to respond, “Because you’re a muggle born, it’s not meant for you to touch.”

You can feel rage bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to spill out your mouth in a flurry of angry words admonishing Reg for his remarks, “What? Is my simple muggle born mind not worthy enough to read words in that precious little pureblood book of yours? Do I need my pedigree intact to understand what it says? Not meant for mutts, is that it?”

You thought you were past this, you thought you’d left the aloof little third year you’d first met who’d called you a mudblood and asked you to move to a different table in the library because he didn’t want you looking at his charms homework behind.

Had the past year and a half of apologies and growth on Regulus’ part all been a lie? Was that hate not as small a part of your boyfriend as you’d thought? Did it really only take just shy of two weeks back with his biggoted relatives for him to start spewing this pureblood nonsense again?

Bouncing around in your head those questions overwhelm you as you try to ignore the most pressing one, pushing at the forefront of your mind.

Does he even love you?

“B-because you’re not a pureblood, this book (Y/N), it can’t be held by anyone not of pureblood,” Reg’s shaking voice broke through the flurry of questions wreaking chaos in your mind.

“God damn it Regulus! I thought we were past this! I thought-”

“It’ll kill you (Y/N)!” His voice is frantic and you pick up on the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to leak over.

Those words that seemed to carry a fatality in themselves cleared away the din clouding your mind, everything went silent. Too silent even as the implication of those words wash over you.

That book may as well be a gun, cocked and being held steady at your temple as you feel tears of your own begin to well in your eyes, distorting your vision.

The mess of questions doesn’t return to your mind, instead they begin thumping one by one at the base of your brain though they all carry through the same theme.

How could he have brought that near you?

“Kill me?” You curse yourself for how obvious your voice is shaking but the book that just moments earlier you were dying to get your hand on seems to have cast an oppressive air over the room and has you recoiling away from your boyfriend.

Regulus nods, holding eye contact with you as he slips the book back into his bag, sliding it under the sofa before cautiously striding towards you.

“That's why I can’t give it to you to look at, it's cursed and if you so much as bump it you’ll…” His voice trails off, the words too terrible to speak aloud.

Your arms wrap around yourself, clutching as hard as they can as you fight to wrangle your thoughts under control. His response revealed to you that he doesn’t intend to hurt you, not with the book anyways which has dozens of other worries popping up in your head. You’re desperate for answers as to what happened to Regulus at his house. He seems ready to give them to you as he offers to take you back to his dorm away from any prying eyes or ears that may lurk about in the Slytherin common room.

You’d both agreed to arrive back at school two days early hoping to get some alone time in but that didn’t mean that the castle was empty and that anyone couldn’t walk into his common room at any moment.

You stall as he lets you into his dorm, you’ve been there a thousand times, often under the mask of night but your usual spot, atop his always made perfectly bed, seems wrong now. Without answers to your countless questions the entire room feels foregin to you and leaves you standing by his desk, not quite leaning against it but also not quite supporting your own weight.

Regulus seems equally awkward but eventually settles on his bed, perched precariously on the edge of the mattress, he barely looks comfortable.

You stay there so long in silence that after a while your breathing syncs, the singular sound becoming the only noise in the drafty room.

Long after it becomes clear Regulus isn’t going to speak first and you finally tire of the silence you find your voice, somewhere deep inside of you summoning the words to your most pressing worry; “What happened at your house Regulus? What did they do to you?”

Your words have him crumbling, your usually stoic boy folding in on himself until he is but a ball hanging off the bed.

You hesitate for a single second before you’re racing towards him, dropping before him at his knees to cup his face in your palms. Directing his visage upwards to meet yours you feel your heart wrench in your chest as you take in his puffy, red eyes, red nose and flushed cheeks already marred with twin trails of salty tears cascading down his face.

“Regulus,” You choke out feeling tears from earlier resurface as you push yourself off the ground to take your place next to the scared boy beside you.

Pulling him into your lap as much as his size permits you too you take great care in cradling his head, clutching him to your chest as your rock gently back and forth humming into his hairline in hopes to calm his sobs. Raw and ragged they each tear at the fragile, brave exterior you’ve erected in hopes of comforting the boy, giving him something solid to hold onto.

Whispering sweet nothings into his ear you feel him melt into your touch, slowly the breathing becomes stronger and his sobs quiet to weak sniffles swallowed by the occasional gulp.

Feeling him shift under your touch you can tell he’s working himself up to something, he always gets fidgety when he’s trying to summon the courage to do something hard, his movement triggers a memory.

It floods through your mind as you’re reminded of a similarly terrified Regulus, knees bumping against the table at breakfast one lazy Sunday as he repeatedly bounced them, seemingly unable to sit still. He’d spent weeks working himself up to speaking to his brother for the first time in far too long.

The memory of him being so strong and brave even as the entirety of the Great Hall tracked his movement from the Slytherin table to the Gryffindor had you drawing a deep breath. The strength the memory provides you has you summoning the breath to prompt Regulus into some sort of explanation, anything.

“Reggie, your mother gave you that book didn’t she?”

He goes still at your words and even involuntary actions seem to still, his lungs draw no breath and his pulse seems to fade away under your touch.

“Bellatrix,” His voice is hoarse from crying, “Her idea of a Christmas gift.”

“That bitch,” You spit.

“Walburga’s was worse.”

You pause at the mention of her name, there is no doubt in your mind that he is the one who’s actions have sent Regulus into this downward spiral of despair and fear. You’re not even sure if you wanna hear what he has to stay but what you want stopped being important a long time ago.

“Do you wanna show me Reg?” You ask, breathless.

“No,” Comes his meak voice, “But I need to.”

You nod understandingly as you regrettably allow him to slip from your grasp so he can turn to face you, one leg tucked under his bum and the other hanging over the edge of the bed.

His eyes are downcast before he peaks them up through thick, dark lashes to meet your gaze, “Do you promise not to hate me (Y/N/N)? I don’t know if I can do this if you hate me.”

Your brows are drawn together as your response comes emphatically, “I could never hate you Regulus, I could never and I will never.”

“You can’t make that promise,” He says through a watery chuckle, leaving you wondering where the hilarity in the situation was. “I shouldn’t have asked you to.”

“Regulus,” You latched onto his hand before he could turn away from you, “I am incapable of hating you my love, please. Tell me what happened.”

Silver eyes locked with yours as though they would reveal the solidity of your promise. You’re not sure what answer he found in them but regardless he broke your gaze as he snuck his hand out of yours.

You watch as he slowly rolls up his sleeve and an idea as to what he’s going to show you begins to form and you find yourself regretting ever demanding to know what’s going on. You quickly shove those thoughts back down, there's no use in even entertaining them, ignoring your problems won’t make them go away.

Your worst fears are confirmed as Regulus rolls the sleeve of his black sweater to reveal swirling black ink sunk deep into his skin. Even just by looking at it you could feel the permanence of the ink, the meaning behind it causing a chill to shoot through your bones.

In the back of your head this had always been a possibility but not one you’d ever truly considered. You always thought that you would be able to get yourself and Reg away from everyone, from everything. Blood purity, the ministry, his family.

You were going to get out and you’d thought you’d have plenty of time, half way through his fifth year neither of you ever expected him to be forced to take the Dark Mark before his eighteenth birthday.

You were supposed to have until his eighteenth birthday.

Staring at the ink that seemed to pulse with life against the pale white of Regulus’ skin you suppose that it doesn’t really matter what you were supposed to have, what was supposed to happen. Regulus has taken the dark mark.

Godric, Regulus has taken the dark mark.

“Y-Your mother did this to you?” Your voice wobbles, anger, confusion, and terror evident in your voice, each betraying the strong front you’re trying to keep up for Regulus.

“She came for me in the middle of the night, (Y/N/N). First time I’ve ever been woken by her instead of Sirius or a house elf and she forced me up, made me get dressed before taking me downstairs and they were all there,” His voice cracks as a silent sob racks his body, you can only imagine how difficult it must be to relive the horrific events of that night. Hoping to provide him with any sort of comfort you inch closer to him, throwing your arm around his shoulder allowing him to rest his head on yours before continuing.

“They were all there (Y/N), not just her and Father. Bellatrix, Cissa and her husband, the Lestranges,” He pauses to swallow, “ And him. He was there.”

Regulus needn’t clarify who “he” was. The idea that he had even been near Regulus made you sick to your stomach and you could feel the distinct sensation of bile rising tickle at the back of your throat.

“Shhh, it's okay Reg,” You soothe, tightening your grip on him as sobs shake his body, “It’s going to be okay Red we’re going to figure this out.”

“He did this to me,” He sobs as he shakes in your lap, letting the enormity of his circumstances finally sink in after suppressing it for the past week, the fear of your response keeping him occupied.

To say you aren’t scared would be a lie, you’re fucking terrified but holding Regulus’ trembling form you know that this decision was not his. He would never swear allegiance to a group hell bent on destroying you and people like you, a few years ago maybe but not today. Not the Regulus you’d come to love, even if it began despite yourself.

Without hesitation you reach out, wrapping your hand around the skin now stained by dark magic.

Regulus let’s out a hiss at your touch and you feel him tense under your hand, afraid you’ve hurt him you start to pull away, “Does that hurt Reg?” You ask warily.

“Yes,” He spits out through gritted teeth, “But don’t let go please,” He pleads, raising his gaze to meet yours, “Please don’t let go.”

“Not gonna let go,” You promise, keeping your hold on his forearm tight.

Dipping your fingers under the strong bone of his mandible you turn his visage upwards to meet yours, heart breaking at the sadness and pain swimming in those beautiful grey eyes of his. Slowly you lean in before your eyelashes are brushing against the soft skin of his cheeks and your eyes flutter closed as you watch his do the same.

Your lips brush each other’s gently as your hand cups the side of his face, giving you complete control of the kiss as you keep the swipes of your lips light, you can just barely make out the taste of the pomegranate lip balm you’d given him as a part of your holiday gift to him.

“I didn’t wanna take it (Y/N/N),” He sniffles against your lips, “I don’t wanna be a Death Eater, I don’t wanna hurt you.” The sincerity in his voice has more tears welling in your eyes, you just can’t bear to see your beautiful boy in so much pain.

“Oh I know you don’t bubba I know,” You calm him, throwing a leg over to the other side of his lap so that you can perch yourself atop the hard smooth surface of his thighs. Gently pressing kisses along the canvas of his face you feel his arms wrap around your waist and the tips of fingers graze against your ass as his hands hover above it.

“Can I touch you please?” His words are barely audible but his desperation is loud and clear.

You grant permission as you lean forward to capture his lips in another kiss, this one more passionate than the last. Posing little, if any, challenge before letting your tongue delve into his mouth, quickly claiming dominance over his as you feel his palms clutch the globes of your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he holds onto you as tight as possible.

With care you slowly guide him onto his back as your lips trail from his down the column of his throat, in your journey down you leave sloppy hickeys along the delicate skin of his neck. Pulling away slightly you smile to see the various shades of purple and blue painted along his pretty ivory skin.

You know you’re going to have a real conversation about this later, what it means, what the two of you are ready to do about it but right now all you can think about is how you can make your pretty boy feel better, how you can show him that your love for him hasn’t changed. And there’s one way you know how to do that best.

“Do you want me to make you feel good Reggie?” You whisper against his skin as your lips ghost over his collar bone, drinking in his scent.

“Please,” He whimpers, “Need you.”

That’s all you need to hear before your hands are delving under the hem of Reg’s sweater, hands sliding against the smooth planes of his abs, your hands gliding over the occasional ridge of a long healed scar.

Sliding the hem up all the way to his collarbone you look down to see the beautiful lines of his chest and stomach. The scars you’ve become used to seeing a dark but faded pink now shine an almost brilliant purple as though the dark magic imprinted upon his arm had somehow interfered with scars caused by Walburga, most of them when he was much younger. You know for a fact that there are more ones on his back, deeper and darker from taking longer to heal.

“Come on pretty boy,” You coach, propping him up so that you can slip the soft sweater over his head before discarding it over your shoulder, “There we go, that’s a good boy.”

He lets out a low whine at your praising words as his hips thrust up towards yours which are perched directly atop them.

While removing your own sweater you smile, realizing it’s actually one of Regulus’ old Quidditch jumpers from the year prior. With no bra beneath your top your tits are left bare for Regulus’ viewing. His eyes gloss over as lust creeps into the stormy grey of his irises, they’re locked on your tits as though they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

“Do these hurt more than normal baby?” You ask as your fingertips graze over the raised scars on his chest, if the dark magic of the dark mark made his scars more sensitive you wanna be careful not to hurt him.

“A little.”

Frowning you lean down to press your lips against the puckered scars, your kisses light and fleeting as you trace the dark lines with your lips.

Dancing from one scar to another you hear him exhale deeply and the tension seems to be slowly leaving his body as he settles into the mattress and he becomes malleable under your touch.

“You’re so beautiful Reg,” You praise against his scarred skin, needing him to understand just how much you love him.

“I love you so much,” You look up through your lashes to see Regulus’ eyes already locked on your body.

“I love you too.”

With that your lips are ceasing his once more as you feel the overwhelming need to comfort your boy. Gently, you grind your hips up against his as you become lost in the kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours before you feel a familiar bulge pressing on you.

Your hand ventures back down the hard muscle of his stomach before you bump against the bulge of his erection, straining against the soft material of his sweatpants. You palm gently over his cock as your face buries itself in the crook of his neck, giving him sweet, light kisses while teasing his throbbing member.

“Please,” Comes his choked pleas at being teased, “Please, need more.”

“Of course pretty boy,” You promise as you lift yourself off of him, giving him one last kiss at the waistband of his sweatpants before helping him ease off his bottoms and boxers.

Once he’s devoid of all clothing you too strip down so that you’re both bare naked, your eyes are fixed on the red, weeping head of his half hard cock, sitting against the inside of his muscled thigh.

He whimpers as your hand wraps around his member, pumping up and down his hardening length, brushing your thumb along the sensitive tip of his cock.

“Wanna be inside of you,” He whimpers, hands grappling for your wrist to stall your movements and pull you on top of him but all he succeeds in doing is making you stubble closer to him.

You release your right hand from his cock, instead taking his hand in yours while your unoccupied hands resumes stimulating his member.

“I know you wanna be inside of me, pretty boy, but I gotta get you hard first.”

“But I am hard,” He argues in a pretty little whine, and now that he mentions it you realize that he is harder than he was when you’d pulled him from the tight confines of his pants.

“Your cock’s so gorgeous,” You murmur watching the way he twitches in your hand, “Think you’re hard enough now, yeah?”

He nods his head, squirming as he fights the urge to buck up into your hand.

Making sure that he’s comfortable, propped up against the pillow at the head of the bed you brush away the hair that’s fallen into his face as you straddle his lap, the shaft of his cock pressing against the warmth of your cunt.

Lifting yourself a few inches off his thighs your help guide his prick to your entrance, slowly sinking onto him you allow yourself to take your time accepting each and every inch of him inside of you.

Reg’s eyes are glued to your pussy as he watches himself disappear inside of you, all the way down to his base. His eye brows furrow from the overwhelming pleasure that swims through his veins, sinking deep into his every nerve at the bliss of being completely surrounded by your warm pussy.

Pleasure shoots up your spine at the sensation of slowly becoming full, once you’ve finally taken every inch of him inside you you throw your head back, mouth dropped open as the breath is stolen from your lungs. It feels so good to be so full with him you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Good boy,” You say breathlessly, rubbing your arms up and down his flexing arms, fists furled with the sheets between them as he too adapts to the sensation that comes with being inside of you.

“You ready for me to move?” You ask once you finally become used to the full feeling.

Desperate nods answered your question, it takes you a minute to find your rhythm but soon you’re grinding his hips against his, lifting yourself slightly off his cock before grinding back down onto him.

Your movements are slower than usual when you fuck Reg, but after the terror he’d gone through in the past weeks you’re deliberate in your gentle movements.

As your hands grip the muscles of his arms you hear him take a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, landing on his face, your movements stalling before you realize that you’re clutching the newly marked skin on his left forearm.

“Oh baby I’m so sorry,” You apologize, loosening your grip on him as your lips frace the dark lines of the ink against his skin.

Seeing that mark on anyone else would’ve made you recoil, have ice shooting through your veins as fear petrified you. While you would’ve preferred never to see that symbol of hate tattooed into Regulus’ skin it didn’t evoke its usual reaction from you. The only fear you have is fear of the future, fear of what lies in wait for the two of you beyond the walls of Hogwarts, but it doesn't matter right now. All that matters is comforting your boy, all you think about as you press your lips to his mark.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear sobs break through Regulus’ lips, quickly you abandon the stain of ink , moving to cradle his head so that your tits are right in his line of vision.

“I thought you were going to hate me,” He cries into your chest, tears wet the soft skin of your tits.

“No baby, I’ll never hate you, not ever.”

You feel the wet warmth of his mouth brush against your right nipple, gazing down you see his tongue lazily circling the pebbled flesh and you’re reminded just how cold the room actually is but pressed up against Regulus it feels like your entire body is on fire.

“You wanna suck on my titty Reggie?”

He responds with a weak nod and quickly you’re easing your nipple into his mouth, helping him find the correct angle all the while stuttering your hips against his.

“You fill me up so good Reg,” Your praise, fingers tangling in the dark mess of curls.

At your praise he begins lifting his hips in times with your thrusts, helping you as you fuck youself on top of him, wanting so desperately to make you feel as good as you make him.

“There we go, that’s a god boy.”

“M’getting close,” His words are muffled by the soft flesh of your tit stuffed into his mouth.

You too are nearing your orgasm as your clit brushes against the hard bone  of his pelvis pulling a sharp whimper from you. To better grant Regulus access to your breast you’ve settled on rolling your hips in circles, ceasing the up and down movement from earlier so as to not disturb him.

A familiar tightness is brewing in your belly as Regulus’ hands run up and down your back before gripping the globes of your butt, maintaining as much physical contact as possible.

“Go ahead bubba, go ahead and cum. Fill me up pretty boy, want your cum. Need your cum. Godric I love you,” You ramble, seizing his lips again, needing them against yours as you feel him cum inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mutters as your cunt grips around him with the tell tale signs of your quickly approaching orgasm.

“Y’gonna cum with me baby?” You ask as you press your lips to his forehead, his mouth having once more found the plush of your breast.

“Yes,” He nods, “Please.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you, wave after wave of pleasure racing through your veins as you ride out your orgasm, continuing to move your hips as you simultaneously help Reg through his. Stars flash behind your closed eyelids as the pleasure building up finally releases, sending you into euphoria so intense it seems to cloud your every sense.

The second he felt your cunt squeeze around his cock it tipped him over the edge and as he lost himself in pleasure, rope after rope of cum releasing inside of you, he tried his best to match the movement of his hips to yours.

You flutter your eyes open as the warmth of his cum floods your pussy as you come down from the height of your orgasm, letting yourself collapse so that your chest is pressed up against his.

With your chests pressed so close together you notice the exact moment that your breathing syncs, feeling as Regulus’ arms wrap around your bare torso keeping you close to his body.

“How are you feeling?” You murmur against the ivory skin of his chest, keeping your voice hushed.

“Better. A little happy.”

Glancing up you catch the smallest smirk slink across his lips as he stares up at the vaulted ceiling.

“Happy?”

“You make me happy,” His eyes flicker to yours as he pulls you closer to him causing his softening prick to slip out of your tight hole. You both hiss as the cool air hits his cock and the cum he’d emptied into you begins flowing out yout pussy.

Regrettably you push yourself off of him, pulling his sweater over your head before waddling into the connecting bathroom, being ever so conscious about the sticky white mess between your legs as you wet a washcloth using warm water from the sink before applying it to the insides of your thighs. Ginger touches hastily cleaning up the excess cum before rinsing the wash cloth to take it to Reg.

“Hey pretty boy,” You coo upon reentering the room to find him in the same position you’d left him in, “You ready for me to clean you up?”

“You look so beautiful in my clothes (Y/N/N),” He responds instead of answering your question, pushing himself onto his elbows so that he can watch you, his black sweater enveloping you all the way to your lower thighs.

“And you’re just beautiful,” You smile, sitting next to him on the mattress. You aren’t lying, he looks absolutely gorgeous leaning back, mop of dark hair in tangled tresses, grey eyes glossed over, abs sheening with sweat as are his equally toned thighs. Merlin bless the poor bastard who invented Quidditch.

Dragging up his muscled legs your eyes settle on his softening member, just as pretty as the rest of him.

With care you make quick work of cleaning the cum off his cock, resting your hand on his thigh when he tries to squirm away from your over stimulating touch.

“I know baby, I know but I gotta get you all nice and clean for me.”

“Hurts,” He mumbles in a pathetic pout.

“I know it does pretty baby but look,” You say, pulling the cloth from his skin, “All done already.” Pressing a kiss to his temple you go to stand but you’re quickly pulled back down to the mattress by cold hands wrapped around the warm folds of your waist.

“Don’t go,” He mumbles into your hair as he keeps you tucked into his side.

“Just gotta go put the washcloth back Reggie,” You explain trying to slip from his hold but he’s not having it and just tugs you back against the hard planes of his chest.

“No,” He says simply before reaching over to the bed side table where he’d set his wand, mumbling a quick banishing spell the rag flew from your hand before flying into the bathroom.

Resting your head against his strong shoulder you yank a blanket from the end of the bed up to throw it around your bodies, nestled close together.

“You said you were happy Reg.”

“Mhm,” He responds with a noncommittal hum.

“What else are you feeling, love?”

You hear him take a deep inhale, as his own answer seemed to overwhelm him, “I don’t know. I’m scared, I’m really scared but not so much now that I know that you don’t hate me.”

You nod against his chest, you can only imagine how petrifying that thought must’ve been for him and you can’t deny the tug you feel in your chest at the idea of Regulus ever thinking you would hate him.

“I’m still terrified but I think I’m gonna be okay.”

“I know you’re gonna be okay Regulus, you are capable and strong and smart and the bravest boy I have ever met,” You can feel the blush radiating off of him at your words.

“Thank you (Y/N/N),” He mumbles bashfully into your hair once more.

You were telling the truth, if there was one thing that you know for certain its that Regulus is just as resilient as he has proven to be and if Walburga, or anyone else for that matter thought he was going to take this lying down. If they thought you were going to take this lying down, they have another thing coming. There is no doubt in your mind that Regulus will fight for what he knows to be true and if there was ever a point that he would have obeyed his mother’s every command without question that time was long past.

Reg isn’t to be underestimated. He’s just as every bit courageous as he’s proved to be over and over again. To underestimate him is to dig your own grave; and unlike Walburga you aren’t ready to count him out quite yet. On the contrary actually, your boy wasn’t about to take this lying down and even if it meant total self destruction, the two of you are about to raise hell.

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[hpimaginesandblurbs]

hear me out: Harry x fem!reader x Cedric…

Like Harry let’s it slip he has a little crush on cedric and you mention the possibility of a threesome and they’re totally down (watching Cedric fuck Harry … omfg)

pairing(s): reader x harry potter x cedric diggory

word count: 1.7k

warning(s): 18+, mmf, threesome, anal sex, oral (female receiving)

“So, I have a surprise for you,” you told Harry as you slowly approached your bedroom.

You could feel the nerves fluttering in your chest as you looked up at him. What if he hated the idea? What if he was embarrassed? What if he never forgave you?

But you knew your boyfriend well and you could only hope that he gave you the reaction you anticipated when you formed this little plan. It was no secret that Harry was bisexual, and a few weeks ago he had finally spilled that he had always harbored a small crush on one of your best friends, Cedric Diggory, all throughout school and into adulthood. You couldn’t deny that Cedric was handsome, so you had called in a small favor. That favor was currently waiting for the two of you behind the door.

When Harry gave you a nudge to continue, you took a deep breath and pressed on.

“Remember a few weeks ago when you told me you had a crush on Cedric? And that you’d like to have him in bed?” You asked, having no other way to broach the subject.

“Yeah?” Harry replied, still clearly confused as to why you were both still standing outside of your bedroom door having this conversation.

“Well, and you can totally say no if you want, but I told him and he would also very much like that. He’s in there right now. I can tell him to go home if you don’t want to though,” you half explained, half rambled.

Throughout the entire spiel, Harry grew redder and redder. You weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or arousal until he looked at you. His green eyes were already dark with lust at the thought.

“You’re serious?” He asked, still a bit baffled that this was actually happening.

“Very. Now would you like to go inside, or…?” You trailed off, purposefully leaving it open ended so Harry had an out if he wanted to.

But no, your brave little Gryffindor immediately opened the door and strode inside. You followed a step behind him, anticipation swirling in your gut at what was about to happen. You stumbled upon the two most important men in your life seemingly having a conversation with just their eyes, assessing each other openly.

It didn’t take long until Cedric stood up from the bed and crashed his lips onto Harry’s, the pair of them moaning at the contact as you watched on. You had never considered yourself a voyeur, but watching the pair of them locked together like that, their hands roaming the others body, was making you incredibly wet.

When they finally broke apart, Cedric looked at Harry for a long moment before asking, “Has anyone ever fucked you, Harry?”

Despite the blush forming on his cheeks, Harry shot you a quick glance before answering. “Not by another man.”

Upon receiving that answer, Cedric shot you a satisfactory look that went directly towards your clit. “I see,” he said slowly, holding your gaze before turning back to Harry. “Would you like me to?” He asked, his hands never once leaving Harry’s fit build.

“Y-yes,” Harry stuttered out, and you could see him growing harder in his trousers by the second.

“Strip and get on the bed for me, alright?”

When Harry gave a shaky nod and got to work, Cedric made his way over to you.

“He’s delightfully responsive. You didn’t tell me that,” Cedric said, just low enough that Harry would have to strain to hear from where he was across the room.

“Figured I’d give you a nice surprise to make this worth your while,” you grinned at him, the both of you casting predatory glances at Harry as he continued to strip.

“This is more than worth it, trust me,” Cedric mused, his gaze slowly turning back to you. “And where would you like to be in all of this?”

“I’ve been content to watch, but I wouldn’t oppose whatever you have in mind,” you replied coyly, already knowing your best friend had a plan brewing.

“Well then, you should strip too,” he said with a wink before walking back over to Harry who was lying on his stomach on the bed.

You stripped dutifully, your core aching as you watched Cedric tease your boyfriend as he got him into the position he wanted him - on his knees with his arse perched deliciously in the air, completely exposed to both of your gazes.

“Fuck, he’s beautiful,” Cedric said to you, but his eyes didn’t leave Harry’s body once.

You watched as Harry started to squirm, unsure what to do when so openly exposed like this. You rarely left your boyfriend guessing in the bedroom, so you jumped into his rescue.

“Don’t ignore him, Ced,” you chided playfully, but by the way Cedric immediately put his hands on Harry’s waist, you knew he knew you were serious.

Once you were just as bare as your boyfriend, you climbed on the bed in front of him. You spread your legs so they were bracketing his body, exposing your dripping cunt to both men in the process. They let out twin groans as they watched you, Harry’s cock twitching between his legs.

Without a second thought, you ran your fingers through Harry’s hair until you had a handful and tugged his face towards your core, an obvious demand. He shot you a grin before diving towards you, his tongue readily running up your slit and teasing your clit.

“Go slow. I don’t want to cum until you do,” you told him, your hand leisurely running through his hair as he slowed his pace.

Once Cedric knew the both of you were situated, he made quick work of opening Harry up for him with his fingers. Every moan that spilled out of Harry vibrated through your core, making you dripping wet by the time Cedric took his cock out. Harry’s shiver of anticipation when he felt Cedric at his entrance was unmistakable, and you knew none of you would last long once Cedric started to fuck him.

“Do you want him to fuck you or are you happy with his mouth?” Cedric asked, his voice an octave lower since the last time he spoke, every move he made now driven by lust.

“He’s doing wonders with his mouth,” you said, stroking Harry’s again. “Besides, I think the both of us at once would be too much for him this time.”

Harry was so wrapped up in pleasuring you and shamelessly rocking his arse back against Cedric that he missed your subtle hint that this would not be the only time Cedric would make an appearance in your bedroom. But your best friend looked at you with a twinkle in his eye as he started pushing into Harry that he liked your idea just fine.

You watched as Cedric took Harry. Your boyfriend had to pull away from you for a moment as he adjusted, moans and whimpers spilling out of his mouth as Cedric worked every inch of himself inside of Harry’s tight hole. When you looked down at him, he looked the most fucked out he had ever been and then some, his whole body high strung as Cedric started rolling his hips in slow increments.

“Better not leave the lady waiting,” Cedric said as he bent down to talk lowly in Harry’s ear, shooting you a wink over his shoulder.

Once Harry got his mouth back on you, his movements were not what you had expected. In the heat of the moment you had anticipated him to be sloppy, slow, subdued. You had not anticipated him to be purposefully breaking you apart piece by piece as you watched him get beautifully fucked by your best friend.

The pair of them moved in perfect harmony as you all climbed closer and closer to the edge, a cacophony of moans engulfing the room.

“Fuck, I can feel how close you are, Harry,” Cedric moaned, his pace only growing harder and harder as time went on. “Cum for us.”

You watched as your boyfriend shook and collapsed after one, two, three more steady thrusts from Cedric before meeting his release, rope after rope of cum falling onto the bed as Cedric fucked him through it. Despite Harry’s now unsteady tongue, you fell over the edge just watching him, your own series of moans falling from your lips as you stared transfixed at the sight before you. Cedric came with a groan, buried deep inside of Harry as he released. Harry shuddered at the feeling, blissed out beyond belief between your two bodies.

You settled yourself on the bed as you watched them recover. Cedric was first, and he easily moved Harry up the bed and into your arms, Harry’s head laid on your chest. Hesitantly, Cedric laid down on the other side of Harry and curled his body around your boyfriends, the three of you content to lay in silence for the time being.

“How was that?” You finally asked, breaking the silence with your direct question to Harry. You had been stroking his hair and face, soothing him and waiting for his breathing to even out in the aftermath of his climax.

Harry pulled back slightly to look at you and you were almost ready to go again just at the sight of him. His skin was still flushed and everything about him screamed ‘fucked out’.

“It was incredible,” he said softly, almost hesitantly.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” You asked with a small smile, already knowing exactly what he wanted.

“Well, I just,” he paused and slowly turned his head to look at Cedric. “Are you staying tonight?”

“Would you like me to?”

“Please,” Harry answered, his cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink at how desperate he was being.

But both you and Cedric gave him a fond smile and snuggled closer towards him. Harry responded with his own smile, and finally content in between your bodies, his breathing started to deepen as he drifted off to sleep. Over his head, you and Cedric shared a meaningful glace, one full of promise and anticipation for future nights spent just like this.

[sugarylawliet]

May I pretty please have a nsfw Light x Fem!Reader fic where Light is horny af and tries to seduce the reader but since it’s so rare to see Light needy like that, the reader decides to use this and pretends like she’s busy etc. and drives Light crazy af which leads to angry Dom!Light sex ;)

WHEW i got outta breath just reading this req-

warnings: nsfw/smut, dom! light, degradation with slight praise, this one has more plot than usual i think

taglist: @ygm1slt

"Y/N, do you mind?"

You glanced up from the dozens of tan manilla folders you held in your hand, spread out like a hand of playing cards, each one filled with documents upon documents about the legend you and your coworkers were chasing. The stacks of papers felt like the scribblings of a child in your hand; useless to you, because you knew who Kira was already. Hidden in plain sight, he was the man who had just called your name from the front of the room where he sat, beckoning for you to come near.

You let out a long sigh under your breath, slowly placing the papers onto the desk you stood in front of. You and Light were not dating, no, in fact you could barely stand to be in the same room as the man. His aura was suffocating, despite the large and sprawling rooms of the headquarters building, you could always pinpoint just where Light was; you could feel his arrogant energy wafting off of him, making it clear who the superior one was in the room. It was asphyxiating, and his words were even worse. Everytime he called you to come closer to him, your heart skipped a beat- and though you were sure it was from disgust, you never denied any of his requests. Your love-hate relationship with him only made your interactions more intoxicating. You weren’t gonna deny yourself the excitement.

Your footsteps echo through the almost empty room as you walked towards Light, the only other people at the task force at the moment being L, Matsuda, and Soichiro, all of whom were working together on the right side of the room, their focus on L’s computer.

“What is it?” You ask as you approach Light, stopping next to him.

“I’d like to know your thoughts on this, a second opinion would be helpful.” He gestures towards his computer screen, which was packed with data you could barely read. As you attempt to decipher the text, Light places his hand on your upper thigh, gripping it horizontally. You hold back a gasp, trying not to draw attention to yourself. Light stares at you, your eyes unwavering from the screen in front of you.

“Umm, well, it’s....”

Light’s hand slides up your thigh, his fingers inching up your skirt and brushing the fabric of your panties. He moves his fingers slightly with the slowness of a lover brushing their thumb up and down your hand as you hold theirs. Your breath stutters as you found yourself craving a harder touch from the man you thought you hated.

You break your gaze from the computer screen and glance at Light- his eyebrows were turned downwards, and the image gave you an idea. You grab Light’s hand, peeling it from your leg and dropping it into his lap. “Actually, Light. I’m kind of busy with these documents right now, sorry.” You smile, walking away and returning to your spot at the other table.

You sort through the papers, your mind off of Light before you feel the vibration of your phone from the table. You check to make sure L wasn’t looking before checking your phone, opening the message notification.

Light Y.

brat.

You glance over your shoulder before typing a quick response.

                                                                                                                        Y/N

                            i’m sure i don’t know what you mean.

You place down your phone screen-first on the table and turn your ringer off, not bothering to see whatever quip Light would respond with. You catch him rolling his eyes out of the corner of your view before returning to his work. He places a hand over his mouth and throws one of his legs over the other, crossing them. You smirk to yourself.

This was a back and forth you and Light Yagami often shared ever since you joined the Japanese Task Force. Light, the esteemed man he is, never places doubt in his ability not only to seduce women, but to get what he wants, whatever that may be; in this case, it was you. You, on the other hand, prided yourself on being strong- a stubborn person with an unwavering will, someone who could out-work and out-show the men who thought they were better than you. Often you forgot the end goals of your little adventures to prove yourself better than, getting caught up in the chase of it all. You and Light’s relationship was a quite hectic blend of both of your guys’ stubborn behavioral habits, and neither of you would settle for losing.

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

“Light-kun, it’s getting quite late. You two aren’t tired?” L asks, glancing at you and Light, as the three of you were the only ones remaining in the main area of task force headquarters. Everyone else had either gone home or gone to their designated rooms in the building.

“No, There’s a lot of work to be done so I’m fine with sacrificing a little sleep.” Light glances at you briefly. You knew he was expecting to be left alone with you, but you decide to push the envelope a little further. You refused to give into him; at this point, your ego and desire to not lose rivaled his.

“Actually, Ryuzaki, you’re right. I’m gonna head to bed.” You wave goodnight to the men, sending Light an innocent smile as you walk upstairs to your room. 

You made yourself comfortable in your bed, as surprisingly Light had taken several hours to come upstairs- he didn’t want to chase after you, you assumed. Though, you could see how desperate he was through his facade.

Eventually, though, the door to your room opens with a creek, as Light steps his way inside and locks it behind him.

“Oh, hi Light. Do you need something?”

“Don’t play stupid.” Light runs his fingers through his caramel hair, frustrated. He walks over to where you sat on the edge of the bed, taking your jaw in his tight grip and forcing you to look at him.

“What was that all about, huh?” He places his hand on your leg, sliding further and further upwards as he speaks. “Teasing me as if you have the right. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? I don’t appreciate the bratty behavior.” His fingers return to the position they were earlier, softly brushing up and down over your clothed heat. You bite your lip, holding back a moan; you weren’t going to give into him this easily. No, this was a competition for pride, and you were determined to win.

“Actually, Light,” You push his hands away from you, standing up, “I’ve had quite a long day. I’m gonna go get some rest, maybe you should too?” You remark before leaving, shutting the door behind you and finding another room to sleep in. You were going to win.

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

“Are you guys coming with?”

You stand in the main hub of task force headquarters near Light, as L was on a seperate floor working and the rest of the task force was getting ready to leave for lunch.

“No, sorry, I wanna finish this work as soon as possible. But Matsuda, do you mind bringing Y/N and I something back?”

You whip your head towards him with a sour look as he volunteered you to stay with him- alone.

“Sure, text me what you want!” Matsuda exclaims cheerfully before leaving with the other detectives. 

The loud slam of the door echoing through the large half-vacant room did not draw your attention away from your work, as you were determined to remain focused.

“You know, Y/N,” Light stands up from his chair, approaching you from behind where you sat. You take in a breath, preparing yourself for the antics he was about to pull.

“You never did apologize to me.” He places his long slender hands on your shoulders from behind, slowly rubbing up and down.

“Apologize? What do I need to apologize for?”

“For being a fucking brat.”

Light abruptly grabs the sides of the chair and spins you around to face him, his nose almost poking yours and his hot breath tickling your face, flushing your cheeks red. You take the opportunity of your close proximity to lock eyes with him, slightly shaking your head no, your confidence unbreaking. 

With haste, Light knots a finger in your hair and roughly pulls you towards the nearest table, shoving you chest-first into it. He smacks your ass, earning a yelp from you. “How hard is it to follow fucking instructions? God, is your ego that big?”

He creeps his hand up your legs, dipping under your skirt and pulling your panties down to pool around your ankles. He runs his fingers up your slit, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Just give into me...”

You shake your head as best you can with Light still gripping the roots of your hair and whine out a small “Nuh-uh.”

He dips two fingers inside you, curling his fingers upwords and making a beckoning motion inside of you. Quickly, he pulls his digits out, extending his hand to force you to suck on them. “Hmm, taste all that? It sure looks like you want to give into me...”

You pitifully whine around his fingers, pushing your backside to press against the bulge forming in his pants, asking for more.

“See? I knew you were needy for me.” He removes his fingers from your mouth and slips them back into your cunt, pumping in and out at a steady pace before adding a third finger. You pathetically squirm under his methodical movements; he was too good at this. You try to bite back your moans to save your confidence, but soon fail as Light scissors his fingers inside of you.

“Mm, I love the sounds you make, you sound like such a slut.”

Light increases his pace and depth, curling his fingers against your walls until his fingers were no longer visible. His manipulation of your senses drew your orgasam out quicker than you expected, causing you to clench against his digits. Light, sensing this, promptly removes his fingers from you, causing you to whine.

“Light...”

“What, you think I’m gonna let you finish?” He chuckles leaning down to speak in your ear, “Just say you’re sorry, Y/N. It’s not that hard, really.”

“I have nothing to apologize for.” You pant. 

He smacks your backside again, the hand-print stinging with the frustration building up inside the man. “Don’t talk back to me, brat. You know, you’re really being difficult and I don’t appreciate it. Maybe I should just leave you here...” He removes his grip from you and begins to walk away, and you’ve never felt more alone without your arch enemy.

“No, Light...” You bite your lip as you call him, the swing to your ego panging your chest.

“Hm, what’s that?”

“Light...” You look away, feeling embarrassment bubble inside your stomach.

“You only get what you beg for, Y/N. I can’t hear you...” He walks closer to you, a smirk forming on his lips as he backs you against the table, “C’mon, pet. Beg for me to fuck you, I know you want to.” He places a soft touch on your clit, rubbing it slowly in circles.

Against everything you’ve been fighting for this whole time, against your pride, your body was aching and obeyed, “Light, Kira, I need you so badly, please, please just fuck me already.”

“Hm, I don’t know. Are you sorry?”

“Yes, yes, I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” His tone grows more stern.

“For being a brat, for teasing you, for not listening to you, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, just please, touch me....”

Light hums in appreciation as he unbuckles his belt, tossing it on the floor and pulling himself out of his tan pants, “Mm, that’s Kira’s good girl, I knew you’d come around.” He pumps himself a few times, sliding the head of his cock up and down your slit, pushing slightly in every now and again just to evoke a mewl from you.

A slew of “please”s and begging whines spilled from your lips like a desperate prayer as Light continued his torturous teasing.

“You’re nothing but Kira’s pet, right?”

You nod rapidly.

“And you’d do anything for me? You’re mine, mine to use how I please and dispose of? Mine to use as a fucktoy?”

You nod again without question.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear.” Light rewards you, finally pushing himself inside of you after what felt like an eternity. He rocks his hips to meet yours as he stretches your walls out, the moans from both of you mixing in the echoey room.

“God, Y/N, you feel so good. All this time I’ve waited...”

“Fuck, Kira,” You cry, wrapping your legs around Light’s waist, pulling him as close as possible. Your fingers curl into the hard, cold desk beneath you in an attempt to grapple with the amount of stimulation you were receiving.

His forehead came to rest on yours as he pounded into you relentlessly, “God, you’re such a good little slut for me Y/N, yeah? Nothing but a dirty fucking slut for my cock, fuck you take me so well.”

“Light, I’m gonna cum...” Your loud moans were hiccuped by the rhythm of Light rocking into you.

“Cum for me Y/N, cum all over my cock like the slut you are, make a mess so everyone knows how good I make you feel, how you’re mine and only mine to use for my pleasure.”

The harsh words that tickled your face encouraged your on-coming orgasam as you soon came around Light. He continued to thrust into you until he threw his head back with a groan, cumming inside of you.

Light pulled himself out and tucked himself back into his pants, tidying up his appearance with still labored breath. “Don’t even bother to clean up,” He head tired at the sticky liquid that was leaking down your legs and dampening the table beneath you, “Everyone knows you’re just a slut anyways, might as well let them know you’re my slut.” He winks before leaving the main room, walking off into a seperate hallway presumably to collect himself.

You stood up from the table, still panting. The fight was over, you had lost. Lost. Lost to the man who always seemed to win despite being plagued by misfortune. You huff, pulling your clothes back on and allowing the sting of losing your pride battle with Light Yagami to overpower the pain you felt in your lower half.

[satinsumu]

favour. || oikawa t.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: MINORS DNI, f!reader, explicit sex, oral sex, fingering, virginity loss, dirty talk, creampie

summary: your friend, the good samaritan oikawa, does you a favour by taking your virginity—a little too willingly.

a/n: written in one sitting on a whim and did not proofread lol please i loooove the first time trope

oikawa stares at you in disbelief, his warm, chocolate eyes wide and fixated on you.

“what?” you sigh, starting to regret casually mentioning that you’d never actually slept with anyone before. “why is that such a surprise to you? is it really such a bad thing?”

“no,” he quickly says, regathering his composure. “you’re just so cute, i’d expect a line of guys waiting to get at you.”

“they are,” you laugh teasingly, the sound causing his heart to flutter. “doesn’t mean i’d want to fuck them though—didn’t you tell me not to settle?”

“of course!” oikawa exclaims, a look of what appears to be slight relief washing across his face. “but you never got curious? just tried it even once?”

“it’s kind of scary,” you admit nonchalantly, never keeping secrets from your friend. “men are scary, honestly. you never know if they’re just gonna hit it and quit it.”

“yeah, your first time should definitely be with someone who cares about you,” he nods, throat feeling oddly dry.

you sigh in a way that says, i’ll-never-find-someone-like-that-so-why-even-bother?

oikawa licks his lips, and contemplates his next question.

“you always have me,” he chirps, a sickening sweet smile plastered across his face. “if you want your first time to be good, guaranteed.”

you want to smack him and tell him to stop joking, but the way your heart skips a beat tells you that this might just be all you ever wanted. and with the way he’s eagerly waiting your response, hiding behind the charming grin you know so well, you get a feeling that this could be something more than just a little favour he’s offering to do.

and that’s how you ended up in his room just one night later, the prettiest (but not overdone) lingerie set under your skirt and your hoodie as oikawa locks his door—not that he needs to.

he makes his way over to the side of his king-sized bed as you take a seat on the mattress, him towering over you with a casual smile on his face.

though, it feels like there’s something else to it. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think the great oikawa tooru, breaker of hearts, was nervous.

“so!” he chirps, clapping his hands together as his eyes linger on your thighs pressed against the blankets for a second too long. “is there anything off-limits?”

“uh,” you think for a moment, interlocking your fingers. “no anal.”

“no problem,” he hums with a nod. “anything else?”

“not really,” you say, fidgeting in place. this is so weird. “i guess i’ll just tell you if something comes up.”

“okay,” he agrees, unzipping his jacket as he tosses it onto the chair beside his desk. “one more thing—are you on the pill?”

“yeah?” you answer, tilting your head at him, the gears in your mind turning just a bit more slowly than his.

“cool. just wondering,” oikawa chuckles, eyes glimmering at you.

and with that, he closes the remaining space between your faces, locking his lips with yours and taking you by surprise. your eyes flutter shut instinctively, although you gasp into his mouth at the gesture.

oikawa takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between your teeth, swirling it around your own before biting your lower lip gently. 

you pull away briefly, short of breath at the unexpected kiss, eyes displaying a mixture of shock and confusion, though not unhappiness.

“kissing is important,” oikawa shrugs, face glowing with a bit too much content. 

he pulls you in by the nape of the neck once more, kissing you gently, but passionately. you slowly release the tension in your furrowed brows as you wrap an arm around his neck, unable to get enough of his minty breath, and the way he sucks at your tongue.

his hand slowly travels down from your cheek to the bottom of your hoodie, tugging at it once to gesture for you to let him take it off. you break the kiss for another moment as he hauls the article of clothing over your head, his eyebrow raising at the sight of you wearing nothing but a bra underneath.

“what’s the point in wearing a shirt if i’m just gonna take it off anyway?” you mumble, cheeks feeling hot under his gaze.

“you look pretty,” he beams at you.

you’re so flustered by his compliment—you two are just “friends,” after all—that you don’t notice the tent forming in his grey sweatpants.

before you can say anything in response, oikawa is crashing his lips against yours once more, this time with fervor, hunger, and desire. you struggle to keep up with the pace he’s set, occasionally panting in between kisses as he slips a hand into the cup of your bra.

you gasp at the contact, his hand slightly cold against your warm skin while he just smiles sweetly at you, gently pushing you down against his mattress by the shoulders. he leans back down to lock his lips with yours while still kneading your breast with one hand, the other pressed against the headboard above you. you don’t even noticed that he’s unclasped your bra and tossed it aside.

the area between your thighs begins to feel slightly warmer than before as you rub your legs together, taken aback by the sensation. oikawa pulls away from you for a second to take his shirt off, and you feel your heart lodge itself in your throat at the sight of his torso; his tan, muscular build is really something straight out of a magazine (literally).

“like what you see?” he smirks teasingly as you look away, but he uses one hand to turn your head back towards him. “eyes on me, baby.”

it’s in that moment you feel like you’re finally seeing the oikawa tooru that everyone else sees: the charismatic, experienced lady magnet that you’ve never even given the time of day.

a breath escapes you at the intimacy, but returns to your lungs in gasps once oikawa leans in to tower over you, his broad shoulders casting a shadow above your head. he begins trailing kisses down from your lips to your jawline, to your neck and your chest, then to each breast as he takes one of your nipples gently between his teeth.

“o-oika—” you stutter, squirming at the sensitivity, but he doesn’t stop.

“call me tooru when we’re in bed,” he enunicates, swirling his wet tongue around the bud. he can’t help but smirk at how cute you look, all hot and bothered underneath him.

the sensation of his saliva against the tip of your skin makes your heart pound, and it’s almost hard to focus on which breast feels better when he’s kneading the other one with his large, strong hands. 

you find yourself running your fingers through his hair as your eyes squeeze shut, the softness of his head oddly comforting as he continues to nip at your skin.

but the comfort doesn’t last for long.

you feel his lips leave your chest as they begin to travel further and further down, the trail of kisses left along your belly indicating exactly where he’s going. he hikes your skirt up to your waist with a flick of his wrist, marveling at the matching underwear you’re wearing beneath it.

“wow, just for me?” he coos, licking his lips. “i’m honoured.”

you wrack your brain for some sort of witty remark to wipe the shit-eating grin  off his face, but he plunges his hand between your thighs and draws a long, slow line against the thin cloth over your cunt before you can say anything.

“o-oikawa!” you cry, flinging your head against his pillow at the shock he just sent through your body. it was sudden, but... pleasurable.

“i told you,” he murmurs, gazing at you with dark eyes. “call me tooru.”

his last sentence comes out like a threat once you feel his finger slide up and down your underwear faster, the contact against your folds driving you crazy. you feel the fabric grow slightly damp as it gets wetter with every teasing stroke of his hand, and you know he can feel it too.

“feel good, princess?” he chuckles, unable to tear his eyes off of your flustered face while you give him small nods, too embarrassed to look at him. he pushes the middle section of your panties to the side with ease and slides a finger into you slowly, your arousal making it smooth for him to do so.

“so diiiirty,” he hums at the way your breath hitches, and the way his digits squelch against your juices. “and all i’ve done is put a finger in you.”

“f-feels good, tooru,” you breathe, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. oikawa feels himself get much harder at your reassurance, pride swelling up in his chest.

he hasn’t even fucked you properly yet.

“it better,” he grins cheekily. he slips another finger into you, moving in and out with languid motions so you can feel every bit of him as he curls his fingers upwards. 

you gasp at the way he seems to hit a spot inside you that feels a bit different than before, but whine once you feel him pull his fingers out.

“what’re you—ah!”

before you can finish your question, oikawa’s ducked his head between your legs, licking your juices up from your folds. he pulls the panties off of you before spreading your legs wide open and holding your thighs down firmly, the hem of your skirt resting gently against his head as he eats you out.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you pant, seeing stars in your eyes. you can’t believe oikawa tooru has his tongue in your cunt, licking up and down, teasing your clit like his life depends on it.

your hands grip the sheets in fistfuls as you stare at the ceiling, biting your bottom lip so hard you think it might bleed.

oikawa takes the small bud between your folds with his mouth and sucks, before dragging his tongue around it and licking your arousal off of your skin.

“mm,” he breathes into you, his voice muffled from below. “taste so... good...”

your juices are flowing onto his face as he laps it up relentlessly, his tongue sending spasms of pleasure through your body. a coil begins to build itself in your core, and you think you’re going to snap if he keeps going at this rate.

but the next second, the contact is gone.

“w-wait,” you whine, seeing oikawa get up from the edge of the bed.

oikawa doesn’t even bother hiding his amusement.

“don’t worry, i’ll let you cum tonight,” he reassures you, pulling down his sweatpants and revealing the huge bulge in his boxers. “just not with my mouth—not this time.”

your eyes widen at his size as he drags his remaining undergarments off, his cock springing out from beneath.

it looks big. and hard. 

like it’s swollen, and intimidating. you’re not sure if the veins along the side or the overall size make you more uneasy.

although oikawa seems to get a nice little ego boost from expression as he chuckles, “it’ll fit.”

you’re reminded of how he immediately deprived you of pleasure just now, and pout at him.

“just hurry uuuuup.”

“didn’t take you for an impatient one,” he laughs, leaning over you as he plants one hand beside your head, and gives his aching member a few good pumps with the other. “are you ready?”

you give him a small nod, biting your lower lip as he presses the tip of his cock against your folds. you feel a little tingle from the contact as you wrap your arms around his neck, perhaps out of desire for some comfort.

he slowly slides himself into you, pausing to let you adjust to his size as you hold your breath, before bottoming out and stretching you wide open. you squeeze your eyes shut at the foreign sensation, though it’s not unpleasant.

“doing okay?” he murmurs in your ear, to which you give him a small nod, still practically hugging him to your body. “i’m gonna start moving.”

you feel the sides of his cock drag along your walls inch by inch as he slowly pulls out of you, until the throbbing tip is just barely in between your folds. then, without warning, he thrusts himself deep inside you.

“ah!” you cry out, clinging onto him for dear life, but never telling him to stop. it feels good being clenched around him, your bodies so close together and fitting within each other like puzzle pieces. 

“fuck,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “you’re so damn tight.”

he slides himself out of you again and repeats the action, slowly gathering more speed until he’s really fucking you at a set tempo. 

you feel his hips snap against yours as he pulls himself in and out of you at a rapid pace, the mild discomfort slowly turning into pleasure.

“t-o-o-ru,” you gasp, your words split up with each of his thrusts into your body as you dig your nails into his skin.

“right here, baby,” he grunts, rutting into you with continuous force. “that feel good?”

“y-yeah,” you pant in his ear as he grips the headboard tightly, not giving a damn if the neighbours can hear the wood knocking against their wall. “f-feels so, ngh! good!”

“you’re so fucking tight,” he mutters, pulling out and slamming his throbbing cock back inside you, watching your body move back and forth on the bed with every one of his motions. “and you take my cock so well.”

he slides himself out of you briefly as you blink at the loss of contact, barely able to process what’s happening before he flips your body over.

“get on all fours,” he orders, with surprising authority—and need.

“i thought i said no anal,” you remark, though already getting into the position he wanted.

“relax,” oikawa smiles at you, tracing a finger slowly down your spine and onto your ass cheek, giving it a squeeze that sends tingles through your body.

your body twitches once you feel him rub the head of his cock against your folds, still wet from your arousal. he inserts himself back into your aching cunt that was tired of clenching around nothing, a new wave of pleasure washing over you.

“a-ah...” you moan, tossing your head back at the new sensation. you back yourself into him as you feel oikawa put both of his large hands on your body,  gripping your waist.

and once he starts to move, you know it won’t be long before you cum.

he’s thrusting himself into you mercilessly now, his cock so deep inside of your wet cunt that you feel like he’s literally rearranging your guts. 

“that’s it, baby,” he grunts with each snap of his hips. “doing so good.”

the pleasure is overwhelming as he hits a spot inside you that you didn’t even know could feel this way.

“tooru!” you cry, tears brimming your eyes at how hard he’s slamming his dick inside you, overcome with how fucking good it feels. “d-don’t stop.”

“i won’t until you cum,” he growls in your ear, leaning over so his chest is pressed against your sweaty back. “you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”

you nod furiously as you bite your lip, small dribbles of saliva leaking out of your mouth at how good he’s fucking you. god, you look so angelic, wearing nothing but a tiny skirt, ass perked up just for him while he rails you into tomorrow.

“g-gonna cum,” you whimper at the same familiar coil building in your core from earlier as oikawa thrusts faster and faster, your tits bouncing back and forth as they hang above the mattress.

“cum for me, princess,” oikawa grates, barely holding onto his own orgasm with how tight you are around him. “taking my cock so well, letting me fuck you so good.”

“tooru-ah! tooru!” your cries of his name fill the room with the lewd slapping sounds of his balls against your ass, the unbelievable speed he’s ramming into you at on the cusp of desperation.

“let me see you fucking cum,” he curses, moving one hand between your thighs to play with your sensitive clit. the pleasure sears through your body as your vision grows slightly hazy from the stimulation. “cum on my cock, baby.”

“w-want you to cum inside,” you breathe, not sure of how much you can last longer. you don’t need to ask twice as he rubs fast circles with his slender fingers against your clit, cock still thrusting in and out of you with incomparable speed. “a-ah! t-tooru, i’m gonna c-cum!”

you feel the coil inside you snap as your walls clamp down against his cock, your juices flowing out of your cunt and down your thighs as oikawa continues grinding against you.

“f-fuck,” he curses, giving you one last, deep, hard thrust as you feel the tip of his cock touch your cervix, groaning as he chases his own orgasm right after yours. he’s still hugging you close to his body as you feel his warm seed spill inside you, the white fluids trickling onto the bed sheets in a mixture with your own.

you’re gasping, out of breath as oikawa pulls himself out of you, the two of you flopping onto the bed together. you lay in the quiet of each other’s pants, staring at the ceiling.

frankly, you’re still in a bit of disbelief over what just happened—you just let oikawa tooru, your friend, fuck you on his bed and take your virginity.

he made you cum. and made you beg for him—willingly.

“how’d it feel?” oikawa asks after a few seconds, breaking the silence with his familiar smile.

“good,” you admit with a giggle as oikawa turns his head to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“wanna go again?”

[hotwings0203]

now we need a part 4 with izuku and bakugo on what happens next to the poor reader 😩✋🏼

Aight imma do a two for one here so MASSIVE BET

Tw:noncon, gangbang

When your hand reaches the doorknob, you know something is off only half a millisecond before another large hand settles itself on your wrist and another one caressing your side.

You freeze immediately at the voices that croon and snarl to you.

“Open the door quietly and we don’t have to make this any more difficult than it’s already gonna be.”

“God, you smell so good. You still haven’t changed your shampoo even after all these weeks huh? I like it.”

Your hand starts to shake and your body starts to sweat as you wildly try to find a way out of this situation. The voices sound eerily familiar, with one being higher and the other more aggressive and raspy, but you don’t dare turn around to locate the faces.

One of them seems to be catching onto your hesitation, because your wrist is crushed underneath a hard grasp and you cry out softly as they growl.

“Open. This. Fucking. Door. Right now.”

It takes a good 15 more seconds to jimmy the lock open, and once you do all three of you go tumbling in.

You whip back around to see both men standing over you, merely watching you with crossed arms and equally perverse leers.

“D-deku? Bakugo? What’s going on?”

Deku practically bounces on the balls of his feet, itching with inappropriate anticipation for what’s to come.

“We wanted to play with you! Are you ready? You can’t fucking ignore me anymore!” His voice is cheery as always but it breaks when he curses, the strains in his vocal cords sticking out while he forces himself from holding back.

Bakugo steps forward.

“Didnt I tell you I was gonna come again for you, you teasing cunt? Didn’t I say to watch your back? Now look at you, sprawled on the floor like rapetoys should be.”

Both men start slowly uncrossing their arms and advance towards you.

“No-no please, why? I didn’t do anything to you! Deku, please!” You blubber as you scuttle backwards, their strides equally as long.

You continue evading them as they play around with you.

“Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words. ‘Deku, please.’ Although, I’d very much rather you moan it for me.” He has the audacity to blush, and then Bakugo interjects.

“You deserve this y’know, so don’t start crying now. We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.” He spreads his hands and his uncharacteristic grin stretches from ear to ear, his vermillion eyes flashing in the dim light of your dorm.

“Anyone whose stupid enough to not realize how this creep has been sniffin’ your panties for months-hell, maybe even years now should get raped. You’re so fucking stupid, you didn’t realize I was protecting you from him.”

“But now look at you. Alone, afraid, vulnerable…oh, and going to the bedroom. You really are an easy slut, huh?”

Deku’s eyes light up when he realizes you truly are unknowingly backing up into the bedroom, but you realize it too late.

It’s only after Bakugo’s words come out that you try to look for a detour for the lock-induced bathroom, but Deku has a different idea.

Out of pure excitement he laughs and sprints towards you, hands outreached to touch your pretty skin, mouth open with drool softly filling the tile below him and eyes bloodshot with lust.

He looks like a creature from hell, and in the pure terror of watching him come at you like that your plan to detour was thwarted and you mindlessly trip back over your feet onto the bed, scrambling as far away as you can from them to the headboard.

You look to your left and quickly seize your bedside lamp, raising it above your head.

“Domt come any closer you closer perv. God, I shouldve known you were fucked in the head. I kept trying to make excuses for you, I thought you were my friend-“ you break down in sobs as the green haired man continues looking at you like you’re a piece of meat, absentmindedly wiping his hand across his mouth.

“And you,” you point to Bakugo who bares his teeth and smirks madly, “I already knew you were the embodiment of hell, but I thought you had a limit of how low you could stoop. You didn’t protect me from shit, you forced your way inside of me day in and day out.”

“Well now that your useless little monologue is over, Deku, tie her legs to the posts. I swear Y/N, you’re making this way too easy for me. It’s almost boring, I already know what I’m gonna get.” He raises his eyebrows at you while he lets his minion do all the work for him, goosebumps racing up his arm at the sight of you screaming and fighting tooth and nail against your fate.

But at the end of the day, after all your curses and sobs and monologues, you’re no match for either of them, especially Deku, who cooes at you to scream louder while he caresses your face and uses nylon string to secure your wrists to the wooden posts. Your legs are also bound after Bakugo seizes them from kicking, and a gag is placed over your mouth by his hands.

He roughly taps the tape covering your trembling lips and smiles condescendingly down at you.

“You’re doing so well for us, rapemeat. Keep up the good work and try to spread those legs as much as you can.” He chuckles when you scream your lungs out, thrashing as he yanks your knees apart.

“Aw, Kacchan, can’t we take the gag off? I wanted to hear her in my ears,” he pouts and looks glumly at your writhing figure.

“No, how fucked in the head are you? Someones gonna come down if she’s hollering for the whole building to hear. And cut her clothes off, I’m getting impatient.”

It seems like Deku too was at his last fiber of self control as his hands shake equally as much as yours, except for an entirely different reason altogether, the opposite reason of yours in fact.

He fishes in his back pockets for something, and produces a glinting steel knife with a black handle.

You still immediately as his descends his hands to the top of your v-neck shirt, right above your collarbones. His eyes fog up as your satiny smooth skin comes in contact with the blade, the coldness of the steel sending shivers down your spine and making you sob harder.

“Kacchan…did you ever get a taste of her blood? How does she taste?” He lifts his head to look into your tear-streaked eyes, but he addresses his childhood friend.

Bakugo snorts. “Calm down Toga, don’t get too crazy yet. We’ll have some more fun later, right now my dick is about to explode. ‘Need a hole,” he mumbles at the end and finally clambers onto the bed right atop your legs.

You stay absolutely silent as pressure from the knife rips the thin strands of your clothes apart, and Deku takes careful care to ensure you at least have thin red lines running down your stomach if not for actual blood.

“Oh fuckkkk,just look at her. You look good enough to eat…” he looks at you and licks his lips, salivating when you whine and twist at your restraints.

“Yeah yeah, you do whatever the fuck you want. Just choose what you’re gonna stick it in and hurry up.”

The blond looks bored almost as the more eager one whips to the side to face him.

“You mean it Kacchan? I can pick?”

They speak as if you’re not alive, no feelings or humanity involved. All you can do is watch and yell into your makeshift gag as the blond waves him off.

“Go for it. It’s your first time satisfying that sick head of yours, ‘must get boring doing it from behind a screen all the time.”

His slowly turns to face you, a kind leer etched across his features, eyebrows slanted and hand coming up to pull your ripped clothes apart.

You struggle and spit muffled profanities out as he slowly drags the bridge of your bra down, eyes wide open as your nipples pop out and eventually both of your tits bounce out.

He hisses and takes his nails up your stomach to fondle your breast. You can tell Deku’s too excited, too inexperienced from the way he handles them like stress balls. You grunt as his mouth latches onto a pert nipple, suckling and looking up at you as if he were some kind of demonic baby.

Bakugo watches all this with a dark glint in his eyes, absentmindedly palming himself as he watches the show unfold in front of him.

It’s entertaining seeing all of the creep’s hormones spiral out of control from years of pent-up lust. He’s never seen the dork so fired up and hungry, he’s never seen him so brutal with a civilian before, the type of people he used to say he’d protect at all costs.

After he’s done playing with your sore tits, he wasted no time in yanking your sweats off. You don’t even trash around anymore, the only thing you’re capable of in this state of terror and shock is weak moans and little sobs, maybe a writhe or two here and there.

Your panties are also torn off and you howl when the elastic cuts into your skin within the process. Bakugo takes this last stripping as an indication for him to move now. He lifts himself up on his knees and moves around your head while Deku situates himself between your violently twitching legs.

“I’m gonna take the gag out now. If you scream or pull any funny business I’ll plug your pussy and your throat with this knife, got it?” He snatches the weapon from the bed and waves it dangerously close to your face.

You nod frantically and try to turn your head to the side, but he yanks you back into place and decides to have his own fun.

While Izuku hurriedly takes his own shorts off the hothead slowly takes the tape off your mouth, staring down at you with unblinking eyes. The knife which you’re so afraid of is traced around your own squeezed shut eyes, down your cheeks and around your lips.

But the horrified trance on which he keeps you in is broken when Izuku suddenly shoved his entire length inside your dry cavern.

Luckily Bakugo has enough foresight to slam a hand over your howling mouth before the entire building can be woken up, and he glares at the sheepish-looking man down the bed from him.

“Are you a fucking virgin? At least rub her clit or something so she doesn’t go hollering at every thrust you damn nerd!”

The man between your legs winces and rubs the back of his neck, chuckling nervously.

“Oops, sorry, got a little carried away there.”

He doesn’t pull out, he merely thrusts slower, trying to fit his fat dick inside your unwilling cunt.

A string of curses leaves your lips and you grimace as the pain becomes near blinding.

Bakugo looks down at you again, the knife forgotten.

“No teeth either.” Your breaths come out in little frantic pants when his bare cock springs out of his own pants.

He taps the leaking purple tip on your lips and you open hesitantly. There’s no point in resisting anymore, they’ve got you quite literally cornered.

“Wider, slut,” he snarls, and you do-but only because Deku’s paps get more aggressive, causing your mouth to fall open in a long whine.

The blond takes this opportunity to slam his length down your throat, groaning around when he sees your throat swell with his bulge.

You immediately start gagging and trying to pull at your restraints for air, his heavy balls rest right on top of your nose and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

You can barely hear him over Deku’s animalistic grunts and whines. He’s going way too fast, as if he’s possessed by your pussy. It numbs you, taking away some of the pain in a flip side.

But on the other end of your body, you’re desperate for air while a fuzzy ballsack paps against your nose and eyes.

Each sadistic stroke he puts inside of you widens your sore esophagus, bringing bile up sometimes and large amounts of saliva too.

He’s not as loud as Deku, but he’s equally as greedy with your holes.

Your body literally hovers up almost in midair as Bakugo thrusts in and lifts his hips up, taking your upper half along with it and Deku does the same unconsciously, trying to fuck up into your womb.

It’s an exact replica of a perverted spit roast, with both of them catching each other’s rhythm and slamming inside your holes at the same time.

Your clit is suddenly rubbed inexpertly to the point of overstimulation, and the incoming sob forced out of your throat warps into a pained scream.

The vibrations of your scream makes Bakugo cum suddenly with a hoarse groan. He doubled over your body and gnaws at your bouncing tits, licking and teething at them the same way his counterpart did.

The sight of copious amounts of cum being leaked out of your filled mouth propels the green-haired man to whimper and shove himself back in one more time, hitting your cervix and causing both his and your eyes to roll back.

He cums too, but both men keep their semi-hard cocks inside of your aching body.

You don’t know what’s worse, having both of them by your side or both of them inside.