#and every time he meets a force for “good”

[luveline]

Missing hotchner reader❤️❤️

hotch and spencer have to work together to look after you when things get really hard. fem, 3.3k

cw cptsd episodes and descrips of abuse

Adoption isn’t as permanent as people might think —they can give you back anytime they want. So when the oldest Hotchner started hitting you, it wasn’t that different to a previous placement, nobody was watching over you, and you were so afraid of losing your new brother that you didn’t say a word. 

You knew, reasonably, that if Aaron was to find out about how his father (your father) had been treating you, he’d report it to your caseworker or the police or somebody and you would be removed from the Hotchner household. And Aaron was the first person you’d ever met to care about you, really care, maybe even love, so you hid it all away and you told him that things were fine. You do it for years.  

You move out, you go to college. Aaron moves you into a nice apartment a few streets away from his own, and for a while, life is good. You meet his coworker, Spencer, and you get along. Spencer takes you on dates to cinemas and patisseries and he buys you cuddly plushies with hearts sewn into their hands at Valentine’s. By all accounts, things should be good. 

You can’t breathe, is the problem. Somebody has their hand raised to hit you again and you can’t do anything about it, you just have to take it, because you’re useless, because you deserve it, because you’re a drain on everything and everyone and you aren’t worth the trouble, you deserve the hit. You’re so sorry.

“I know,” someone murmurs quietly, a sensation on your shoulder. You wait for it to close around the back of your neck. “I know. It’s alright.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, barely, a breath of sound. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

But you did, you did, he was in a bad mood to begin with and you hit his glass of scotch right off the table, smashed glass and wasted drink and a bad mood made worse. He should’ve hit you by now. He’s waiting for you to sit up. He doesn’t like to hit the back of your head, but he will if you cower long enough.

“Honey,” the voice says, right by your ear, “I’m not going to hit you, do you hear me? I am never, ever going to hit you.” 

“I’m really sorry.” 

“I don’t care that you knocked the glass over. I don’t care at all.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Can you look at me? I promise,” —he emphasises until his voice burns— “I am not going to hit you.” 

Aaron sounds upset enough to force your gaze. You look at him through your lashes, ready to shut your eyes if this is a trick, but he has his hands flat in front of you and he’s completely still. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, so unlike himself, “I wouldn’t hit you over a glass. I wouldn’t hit you if you did it on purpose. I wouldn’t hit you if you smashed every piece of glassware in this apartment for fun.” 

He’s hit you for less. 

“Sweetheart,” he says again, waiting for a reaction you can’t give, “do you want me to go away?” 

It’s a good question. Do you want him to leave? Immediately, everything inside of you says No. He’s gonna hit you just like the last time you smashed his drink, out of the blue, ‘cos didn’t mean to doesn’t matter. But you don’t want Aaron to go. He’s the only person who’s ever loved you properly. 

“It’s okay, just hit me,” you say, staring at him, pleading with him not to even as you ask for it, “it’s my fault.” 

“Not gonna hit you,” he says, reaching for you now, even when you flinch, he holds you by the arms and he stares at you hard. 

“It’s okay,” you say. 

“It’s not okay. It won’t fix anything.” 

“I deserve it.” 

“No, you don’t.” Aaron rubs your arms in tandem, shaking his head, a trace of panic in his eyes you’d missed until now. 

It’s Aaron. Aaron’s never hit you. 

“You never deserve to have someone put their hands on you,” he says, practically murmurs, “I’m sorry I let that happen.”

“I lied to you.” 

“I know. I know you did, honey.” He shakes his head gently. “It’s not your fault.” 

“I hit the glass over,” you say, And he hit me so hard I couldn’t hear right for hours. You still remember the way it shocked you, because you’d started to expect it but you were still surprised he’d bother with such a hard hit, that he could get that angry about it.

“I thought it was just me,” he murmurs, sorry, clutching at you like he needs you to listen. “I never should’ve left you in that house, but I thought it was just me. It was only ever… me.” 

You already know —you’ve had this conversation before. He’s apologised already. 

He cups your cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re not angry with me?” 

“No. I’m never angry with you.” 

You come to yourself in fits. You’re kneeling on the floor not far from the table, the mess of glass, half still intact and cupping a few sips of scotch. Aaron’s kneeling right next to you, still in his suit, hasn’t been home long, you were waiting for him. You used your key because you didn’t want to be home alone. Today’s been a bad day. You’ve felt stringy and strange for hours and you knew seeing Aaron would set it right. That Aaron would make you feel better through force of will. 

And then you’d knocked his drink off the table and both of you had startled, and he’d said, “Wait, don’t, you’ll hurt yourself,” but all your brain heard was You. 

You. What could be said to mean more than that? 

“You’re not gonna hit me,” you whisper. 

“Never.” 

“Can you help me up?” you ask, half apart from yourself. Your head is back, but your legs won’t cooperate. 

“Where do you want to go? The kitchen?” he asks, leaning so you can wrap your arms behind his head. He lifts you up with some effort on his part, adjusting you, and leading you together to the kitchen to sit you at the island bar. “Sit tight. I’ll clean the glass, okay? It won’t take long.” 

You don’t want him to go, but you don’t wanna say no. 

Time away from him is good, in a way. It makes you remember who you actually are outside of the bad memory. It hammers home that this is Aaron’s apartment, your big brother, your number one supporter. There’s a picture of you and Jack right there on the fridge stuck by an alphabet magnet. Aaron’s never hit you before and it’s not going to change now, because he is nothing like his dad. 

He’s never really seen you act like this, though, and you aren’t excited for what he has to say next. He has a penchant for seeing you at your worst and building you back up again. It shouldn’t be his problem, but it is. 

He brushes the glass into a dustpan and unloads it into a bag, which he trashes. You watch him wet a paper towel and wipe it across the floor for the shavings. 

When he’s drying his hands on a towel, you summon the courage to apologise. “Aaron, I’m… I’m sorry. Sorry.” 

He closes his eyes. He doesn’t look much like the other Hotchner’s. He’s dark-haired like his mother, and he smiles with all kindness. You never saw anything so soft at home, not unless he was there to visit. It’s a wonder he ever bothered getting to know you, already living his life very much outside of the household, and shouldn’t he have moved on? If it were you, if there were another kid in the house right now, could you go back? Knowing how you were treated? 

“I love you,” he says. “You know that?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you think you could understand why I don’t want you to say sorry, or be sorry, because of that?” 

You smile weakly. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah? Because if Jack were in here today, and he had hit that drink over, you couldn’t have hit him. Could you?” 

“Of course not.” 

He’s mildly guilty for the example, you can tell, but it cements the sentiment in your mind and he can see that. “When you love someone, you don’t hit them. We just can’t do it.” 

“I just… just– you– I got all mixed up in my head.” 

“I know.” 

“Thought you were him,” you say tightly, quietly. 

“I know. Is that the first time you’ve had something like that happen? Like you weren’t sure where you were?” 

Your face crumples of its own accord, heat clogging your nose and throat and lining the backs of your eyes. “No… but it hasn’t been that many times…”

“The bad panic attack at work a few weeks ago, was that like this?” 

“No, that was just that I couldn’t breathe right. I– I had one with Spencer.”

Aaron frowns, but he speaks kindly, “When was that?” 

“A couple of days ago…” You stare at your hands.

“We don’t have to talk about it. But I need to make sure you’re okay.” 

“He told me to tell you, but it– I thought he’d break up with me, after, but he hasn’t, so I’ve just been waiting.” 

“Honey, I don’t think this is the sort of thing that could make Spencer break up with you. He cares too much.” 

“You don’t understand, I– I begged him not to touch me, Aaron. I really scared him.” 

With Spencer, it was late. You asked him to stay the night on a limb, and you’d forgotten he was there sleeping beside you, met him in a dark hallway, where he asked what you were doing out of bed. It’s late. You shouldn’t be up. 

His hand had settled just behind your neck. He won’t touch you there anymore. 

“If there’s something you want to tell me–”

“I want it to go away,” you say. 

“It’s not going to be that easy.” He takes a big, deep breath. “You could’ve told me this was happening,” he promises. 

“I didn’t want you to know that I– lied so much. Sometimes I can’t believe I let him do it.” 

Your tone, quiet and calm and a juxtaposition to the ache in your chest, couldn’t hurt him worse. You're familiar with the pain on Aaron’s face, how it makes him do this sorry smile, how he tries hard not to give it away. “If anyone let him hurt you, it was me.” 

“What?” 

“I knew he was unkind to you. I knew he shouted. I didn’t try hard enough to get you away.” 

“Aaron–”

“If you’re going to blame someone, it has to be me.” 

It’s ridiculous. If you hadn’t had Aaron, you would’ve been completely miserable to the marrow of your bones. He’s the last person on earth you’d blame for the way you’re feeling now, so when a tear wells in your eyes, when it hits your cheek in a splash, you let him tut and wrap his arms behind you. 

“It’s my fault,” you insist, hiding your face in his shoulder. 

“No.” 

“It’s my fault, I hit the glass–”

“No, no, it’s not your fault.” 

“I’m really s–sorry.” 

“It’s gonna be okay, honey. Just breathe. Just take a deep breath for me. I promise you I’m not mad about the glass.” 

“Maybe you should be.” 

He holds your forehead to his chin, clutching you to him, reassuring and a little too tight. “I’m not mad at you.” 

You can’t make yourself believe him. 

—

Spencer isn’t expecting to get waylaid by Hotch at Rossi’s dinner party. He can’t think of what he did wrong. You’re happy with him, clingy lately, which he loves, and as smart and sweet as ever, and work is great. Spencer’s a good agent and a better profiler. 

Hotch looks so serious that he follows him in silence, squeezing his coke neck like a lifeline. 

“I want Y/N to be assessed for PTSD, and I need to know that you’re going to support her,” he says simply. 

Spencer searches the backyard for you. You’re laying down in the grass with Jack, Henry, and Penelope. It’s getting late, barely any sunshine left, but nobody’s wanted to ruin the fun and call it a night yet. You don’t fuss as Jack throws himself sideways across your chest. 

“Did something happen?” Spencer asks. 

“She had an… event. She told me about a similar incident with you the other night. That she panicked and got confused about who you were.” 

Spencer nods. “Yeah, I– yeah. I caught her by surprise.” 

“That’s the only time it’s happened?” 

“Yeah. She’s told me a little about it.” 

“About the episode?” 

“Everything. And it’s obvious?” He enthuses it with apology, worried he’ll offend Hotch if he says something too blatant, but desperate to be honest. “Most of the time she’s this– she’s amazing, she’s like this light, and then sometimes it’s like she thinks I don’t like her? Like I don’t want to be near her, or like she thinks I’m gonna hurt her.” 

Hotch lets his eyebrows rise a little. “Yeah.” 

“She cried so much that I didn’t know what to do.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about that part, she already told me you made her feel better,” Hotch says quietly. Neither of them mention what they know, how you’d begged Spencer to stay after the episode, how sorry you’d been, how desperate Spencer was to calm you down. “But if you can’t do it in the long run, you need to know now. I can’t start this with her and have you duck out halfway through. I know,” —Hotch gives him a fond smile, half-knocking the wind from him— “that you care about her, and I know it’s not my place to come to you on her behalf, but I’m going to do it anyhow, and you know why I am.” 

“What do you mean?” he says, though he knows. 

“I’m saying I think she’s going to get worse before she gets better. She’s not well right now.” 

“I know she isn’t.” 

“I trust you, Spencer. I care about you, too. But she’s going to be my priority, and if you can’t be there for her then it has to be done now... I’m worried she’s going to get really low.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says genuinely. Spencer’s not defensive, only urgent. “Hotch, I more than care about her.” 

Hotch nods. “Okay. Good, because I need your help. You have to vet these doctors for me, I have a preliminary list. I’ll send it to you.” 

“Wait, have you talked to her about this?” 

“I said we’d talk to a doctor. I promised I’d talk to you about it. She’s… I don’t know, she’s scared.” 

Spencer straightens up. You have nothing to be scared of with him, not his reaction, not his lack of support. He wishes Hotch had had more faith in him, but none of this is about him. Someone hurt you, and now you have to put yourself back together again. 

The kids have disappeared. Penelope’s climbing onto her feet and offering you a hand, but you stay laying down in the grass. 

“I really care about her,” Spencer says. 

Hotch clasps his shoulder. “Are you going, or am I?” 

“I’ll take this one, please.” 

“Sure.” 

Spencer trudges around the side of the yard, past the bench and the tables and the string lights on the patio to where you’re laying in the bluegrass, eyes nearly closed. “Is this seat taken?” he asks, nudging your hip with his shoe lightly. 

“No, sir.” 

Spencer sits down in the grass. He finds your wrist to hold. 

“You okay?” 

“Did Aaron talk to you about the doctor?” 

“Yeah, he did. You want to go?” 

“What do you think?” 

Spencer rubs your pulse. “I think it’s good. If you were having headaches, we’d go to the doctor.” 

“Headaches that make me not know who you are.” 

“Especially that kind.” 

You turn a bit and give him an amused smile. “Sorry I was too scared to say more about it.” 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Spencer brings a cautious hand to your cheek. He sees the flicker of hurt it brings —you don’t like that he’s careful how, but how can he not be, remembering the way he’d touched your neck and the wound it seemed to inflict in the dark— but he tries to caress it away. “I’m with you,” he says, “I care about you. I want to take care of you, as much or as little as you might need that from me.” 

Your eyes fall closed. “It might be nice.” 

“What would?” 

“To be taken care of by you.” 

“I’ll try my best.” 

You cover his hand with your own. JJ laughs across the yard, and Jack and Henry shout battle cries. Hotch says, “Jack! Not so rough, buddy!” and makes you laugh. 

“Did he intimidate you?” you ask. 

“No more than usual. He said I have to decide if I can do this with you.” 

You squirm and attempt to sit. If Spencer weren’t nervous about touching you, he’d force you back down. “He shouldn’t have.”

“No, he should. But I already decided.” Spencer finds your fingers, lacing them with his. “It wasn’t really a decision, actually. I want to do this with you, but only if that’s okay with you.” 

You nod slowly. “I already said it’d be nice if you took care of me,” you whisper, letting your face dip downward. 

He chances a kiss pressed to your temple. 

You laugh under your breath. “I know you didn’t sign up for this.” 

“Did you?” he asks, giving your back a rub like a wave. 

“It’s different. I knew what was happening to me.” 

“Angel, you didn’t have a choice,” he says, so quiet he’s surprised when you hear it. “I know you’re… What?” he asks, perturbed when you shake your head. 

“You and Aaron…” 

You never finish. Spencer can’t make you. He holds your shoulder until the tension under his hand unfurls, relaxing his touch when you decide to lay down in the grass again, quietly asking him to lay with you. 

“Be ready for Jack to use you like a trampoline,” you warn, taking his hand. 

He has a feeling Hotch will keep Jack away for a while. 

Spencer traces the back of your hand with his thumb, over and over. He’s sorry he didn’t know you five years ago, sorry you were alone, sorry someone put their hands on you. He’s sorry you learned to anticipate physical abuse in the wake of mistakes. He’s sorry he can’t take it away from you, ‘cos from the second you took his hand at that park a street from his apartment he’s been a goner, all you had to do was jump up on the lip of the fountain and trust him not to let you fall. He remembers how that felt, the zinging sparks travelling from the palm of your hand into his, the romanticism of two arms stretched apart and your slow circle. And when you fell in, you didn’t blame him, you just laughed and scrambled back out, squealing excitedly about your wet shoes. 

It’ll get better, he thinks. Even if it gets worse first. You’ll feel better soon. 

He turns his cheek into the grass and beckons you forward for a kunik kiss, nose pressed to yours, wanting to kiss you like he would if you were at home together, and knowing this is enough too. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“It’s getting cold.” 

Spencer agrees, but neither of you attempt to move. 

[stxrkiss]

☆⁠ ℳ𝓎 Skin † 𝔅egan 𝐭𝐨 𝕮𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖑

僕のものになったら、逃げられないよ。

# 𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 ℬ𝒶𝓉𝒷ℴ𝓎𝓈 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ☆

# 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 : 𝘏𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭.

# 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 : 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦, 𝘋𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘑𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘰𝘥𝘥, 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦 ☆

# 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝘌𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘈𝘨𝘦 𝘎𝘢𝘱, 𝘐𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘱-𝘚𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘖𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘒𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘕𝘰𝘯-𝘊𝘰𝘯/𝘋𝘶𝘣-𝘊𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘎𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘔𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘋𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘗𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘛𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘊𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘖𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳/𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥. 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘋𝘕𝘐 ⚠

# 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬 : 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⠀ ㅤ𔘓⠀ㅤׄㅤ⠀ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄⠀ㅤ˳ ⠀ㅤׄ𓊘 ᅟ

𝙏𝙒: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝘼𝙜𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙥, 𝙋𝙨𝙮𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙄𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝘿𝙪𝙗𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩, 𝙋𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙊𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨 ⚠

The dining room in Wayne Manor was a cathedral of candlelight, golden flames swaying in the still air, casting long shadows against the mahogany walls. The table was set for two, drowning in a sea of red—red roses, red candles, red wine swirling in delicate crystal glasses. A feast had been prepared, untouched, untouched just like you.

Bruce sat at the head of the table, his dark suit crisp, his presence swallowing the air itself. His eyes—deep, endless pools of something unreadable—never left you, drinking in the sight of you in the dress he had chosen. It was red, of course. Red, because it meant something to him. Red, because it reminded him of the first time he saw you—so small, so unaware, your laughter ringing through Gotham’s cold streets, untouched by the filth that corrupted everything.

He had been watching for so long.

Waiting.

“Come,” he murmured, his voice a gentle command.

You hesitated. Not because you wanted to disobey—there was no such thing as disobedience anymore. But because you knew, deep in your bones, that every step closer to him was another step away from yourself.

Bruce’s smile was patient. Always patient. He reached for you, taking your hand in his own, warm and steady, the grip unyielding as he guided you to the chair beside him. His touch had always been gentle, deceptively so, the way a hunter might cradle a bird with broken wings.

“You haven’t touched your wine,” he noted, swirling his own glass. The liquid stained the crystal, thick as blood. “Do you not trust me?”

A test. Every conversation with him was a test, and you had learned not to fail them.

You forced yourself to lift the glass, the rim cool against your lips as you took a small sip. The taste was rich, heavy, clinging to your tongue. He watched you, his smile deepening just enough to make your stomach twist.

“Good girl,” he praised.

It made your skin crawl.

You used to fight. Once, you used to scream at him, claw at the walls, threaten to run. But Bruce had a way of unraveling you, of peeling you apart thread by thread, until you were something small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.

"Tonight is special," he said, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "Do you remember why?"

You swallowed.

His fingers found your chin, tilting your face to meet his. The way he touched you was always so careful, as if you were made of something fragile. And in a way, you were. He had made sure of that.

"I saw you for the first time on this day," he murmured. "You were just a little thing, weren’t you?" His thumb traced your bottom lip, his voice thick with nostalgia. "So lovely. So perfect. Gotham hadn’t tainted you yet."

Your stomach clenched. You wanted to pull away, but you didn’t. He wouldn’t let you.

"I was patient," Bruce continued, his tone reverent, almost dreamy. "I let you live your life. Let you believe you had freedom. But you never really did, did you?"

His grip on your chin tightened just enough to make your pulse quicken.

"I watched you grow," he whispered. "Watched you laugh, cry, learn, make mistakes. Watched the world try to sink its teeth into you." His other hand came up, fingers weaving into your hair, holding you there. "But I never let it. I kept you safe. Even when you didn’t know."

The room felt smaller, the air thick, suffocating.

"You used to be so stubborn," he mused, thumb tracing slow circles against your jaw. "You used to scream at me, tell me I was a monster." His lips quirked into something like amusement. "You really believed you could run. That you could escape me."

You felt cold, even with the heat of his hands against your skin.

"But you learned, didn't you?" His voice dipped, soft, almost soothing. "You understand now. There is no world without me. No life beyond this."

His hands slid lower, wrapping around your wrists, his touch never harsh, never violent—but unmovable.

"You belong to me," Bruce said, his breath warm against your cheek. "You always have. I just had to wait."

Wait for you to stop fighting.

Wait for you to realize there was never another choice.

His lips pressed against your temple, lingering, inhaling. His voice was barely a whisper now, a dark promise woven into the air between you.

"And now," he murmured, "you're ready."

A shiver ran down your spine.

Ready for what, you didn’t dare ask.

But the look in his eyes told you.

Bruce had waited long enough.

And there was no one left to save you.

⠀ ㅤ𔘓⠀ㅤׄㅤ⠀ 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍⠀ㅤ˳ ⠀ㅤׄ𓊘 ᅟ

𝙏𝙒: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥-𝙎𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙊𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙆𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙮, 𝙋𝙨𝙮𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙄𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙉𝙤𝙣-𝘾𝙤𝙣/𝘿𝙪𝙗-𝘾𝙤𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨, 𝘿𝙚𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙂𝙖𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ⚠

You don’t know how long it’s been.

Time has lost its meaning in the walls of this place—no windows, no clocks, no sky to mark the passing of days. Only the dim, golden glow of the chandelier above you, flickering against the deep red wallpaper, the heavy furniture that once felt luxurious but now feels like a tomb.

You sit on the bed, the silk sheets pooling around you, and touch your stomach.

Round. Heavy. Real.

A sharp exhale leaves your lips, and before you realize it, a single tear slips down your cheek. You don’t wipe it away. There’s no point. They always come back.

The door creaks open.

Your heart clenches as his footsteps approach—calm, unhurried, as if he’s returning home after a long day.

Dick smiles as he steps into the candlelit bedroom, his blue eyes warm, bright, devoted. It would almost be comforting if you didn’t know what lay beneath—what lurked in the depths of that gaze.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, babe.”

A sob catches in your throat.

Valentine’s Day.

Your mind struggles to grasp it. It can’t be. It can’t be.

Last time, when he told you it was Valentine’s, you had only just arrived. You still had hope then. You still believed your father would find you. That this nightmare would end.

But now…

Your fingers tighten against your belly. The child inside moves, shifting, stretching, alive.

“Why are you crying?” Dick asks softly, stepping forward.

You flinch when he kneels before you, his hands finding your stomach, caressing the swell with reverence. His touch is gentle, his voice dripping with honeyed adoration. But there’s something in his eyes—something unhinged, something broken.

You hate that part of him.

He presses his forehead against your belly, exhaling a slow, content sigh. “She’s growing beautifully.”

She.

You don’t even know if it’s a girl. You don’t even know if he’s telling the truth.

Dick tilts his head up, eyes locking onto yours. His smile softens, as if he pities you, as if he understands something you don’t.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” he murmurs. “You still think someone’s coming for you.”

Your throat tightens.

“I—” Your voice cracks, hoarse from disuse. You don’t remember the last time you spoke.

Dick reaches up, cupping your cheek, wiping the wetness away with his thumb. “Oh, baby. It’s been a year.”

Your breath stops.

Your ears ring.

The room spins, and suddenly you feel like you’re drowning, suffocating in the reality of it. A year.

A year since he stole you away. A year since you last saw your father. A year since Bruce—

Your lips tremble. “You’re lying.”

Dick chuckles, the sound lighthearted, as if you just said something adorable.

“I knew you’d say that,” he murmurs. He leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead, and lingers there. Too long. Too intimate. Too wrong.

“You always do this, sweetheart. Every time you hear how much time has passed, you go through the same cycle.”

You shake your head. “No, no—”

“Denial,” he whispers, his hand sliding into your hair, cradling your head like you’re something precious, something fragile. “Then panic.”

Your breathing quickens.

“Then you’ll beg me again.”

He pulls back slightly, watching you with those soft, loving, deranged eyes.

“Go on,” he urges gently. “Beg me.”

A sob escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please let me go. Please, Dick—”

His smile doesn’t waver.

He shifts, climbing onto the bed, pulling you into his arms as if comforting a distressed lover rather than a prisoner carrying his child.

His hands stroke your back, slow, soothing. Mocking.

“You know I can’t do that,” he murmurs. “I love you too much.”

You shake, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. “Please… my dad—”

Dick exhales, almost disappointed. “Bruce is dead.”

Your body seizes.

“No,” you whisper. “No, he’s not—”

“He is,” Dick insists, his voice unwavering. “He died not long after I took you. I thought about telling you, but… I knew it would break you.”

A shaky breath leaves his lips as he presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“So I waited,” he continues, his voice laced with something syrupy, sinister. “I waited for you to move on. For you to accept that I’m all you have.”

Your stomach lurches.

Dick sighs, his fingers trailing down your spine. “But you’re still fighting me.”

His grip tightens.

“But that’s okay.”

His lips graze your ear, his breath warm, his voice an eerie whisper of devotion.

“You’ll come around. You always do.”

A fresh wave of tears spills down your cheeks.

Because deep down, you know he’s right.

⠀ ㅤ𔘓⠀ㅤׄㅤ⠀ 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃⠀ㅤ˳ ⠀ㅤׄ𓊘 ᅟ

𝙏𝙒: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙆𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙂𝙤𝙧𝙚, 𝙈𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝘿𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙮, 𝙋𝙨𝙮𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙋𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙏𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚, 𝙉𝙤𝙣-𝘾𝙤𝙣/𝘿𝙪𝙗-𝘾𝙤𝙣 𝙀𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙄𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚 𝙋𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ⚠

The flowers sit in a crystal vase on the bedside table, their petals a deep, velvety red—almost as red as the blood staining the sheets beneath you. The air is thick with sweetness, a mix of perfume and something darker, something metallic, something that never quite leaves no matter how much he tries to clean it up.

Jason hums softly as he dips a cloth into a bowl of warm water, wringing it out before pressing it gently to your skin.

You don’t react.

You don’t do much of anything anymore.

His touch glides over your body, slow and careful, cleaning away the remnants of the night before—the sweat, the tears, the dried blood that still lingers around the edges of the old wounds.

Where your arms used to be.

Where your legs used to be.

Jason is meticulous, making sure every inch of you is cared for. You are fragile now, more than ever. But that’s okay.

He prefers you this way.

“See, baby?” he murmurs, his voice low, almost affectionate. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

The rag slides down the remnants of your thigh, over the bandaged stumps where your legs used to be. There’s a strange sort of tenderness in the way he touches you—as if he didn’t put you in this state himself.

You don’t respond. You haven’t spoken in…

You don’t know.

There is no time here. No windows, no clocks. Just Jason.

Always Jason.

You are entirely his now. There is no escape, no running, no fighting.

Not anymore.

Jason tilts his head, watching your face carefully. His green eyes soften when he notices the blankness in yours.

“Still not talking?” he muses. His lips twitch, almost as if he finds it amusing.

He leans down, pressing a slow kiss to your forehead. It lingers.

“That’s okay,” he murmurs against your skin. “I don’t mind. I like you quiet.”

His hand cups your cheek, thumb tracing over the sharp curve of your cheekbone. You’ve grown thinner, weaker, your body unable to sustain itself the way it used to. But he feeds you.

He does everything for you now.

He lifts you from the bed with ease, cradling you in his arms as if you weigh nothing.

The world shifts as he carries you, your head lolling against his chest. His heartbeat is steady, solid, grounding you in a reality you don’t want to exist in.

The bathroom is warm, steam curling in the air, the scent of roses thick and cloying. The water in the tub is already drawn—he always prepares everything in advance.

Jason lowers you in carefully, letting the warmth envelop you.

You don’t react when he takes the cloth again, running it over your body, cleaning you like you’re something delicate, something precious.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, fingers brushing along your collarbone. “Even now.”

Even now. Even after everything he’s done.

Jason washes your hair next, his fingers massaging your scalp, his nails lightly scratching against the skin in a way that almost feels soothing. Almost.

You don’t fight when he rinses you, when he lifts you out and wraps you in a thick, soft towel. You can’t.

There is no point in fighting anymore.

Jason carries you back to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed. The sheets have been changed—fresh, crisp, smelling of lavender and something undeniably him.

He dresses you himself, pulling a soft, lacy white dress over your head. It’s delicate, flowy, beautiful—something meant for a bride.

Jason smiles as he smooths the fabric over your body.

“Perfect,” he murmurs.

You stare at the ceiling, unblinking.

He presses another kiss to your temple before stepping away, returning with a tray of food. You know what’s coming.

He feeds you slowly, carefully, whispering soft praises when you swallow.

“Good girl.”

“Such an angel.”

“You’re doing so well for me.”

When he’s done, he sets the tray aside and pulls you onto his lap, cradling you like a doll. His fingers trace idle patterns along your arm, his touch warm, lingering.

“Do you know what today is?” he asks, resting his chin atop your head.

You don’t answer.

His grip tightens, just barely. A warning.

Jason sighs. “It’s Valentine’s Day, baby.”

His arms wrap around you fully, pulling you impossibly close.

“Our first one together.”

You close your eyes.

He presses a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder, his lips brushing against the exposed skin.

“I love you,” he murmurs, voice low, reverent. “More than anything.”

His hands slide down, gripping your waist, holding you in place.

“I know you don’t believe that yet,” he continues, “but you will.”

Jason smiles against your skin.

“You don’t have a choice.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, silent, endless.

Jason kisses them away, his lips soft, tender.

“Shh,” he soothes, rocking you gently.

“You’re mine now, baby.”

“You always will be.”

⠀ ㅤ𔘓⠀ㅤׄㅤ⠀ 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄⠀ㅤ˳ ⠀ㅤׄ𓊘 ᅟ

𝙏𝙒: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙂𝙤𝙧𝙚, 𝘾𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙗𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙢, 𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙈𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙊𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 ⚠

Candlelight flickered, making the polished wood of the dining table gleam, casting shifting shadows against the red-stained floor. Soft music played from an old record player, a love song from another time, slow and mournful. The air was thick—warm with the scent of caramelized skin, the faint perfume of blood, the lingering remnants of life that still clung to the walls.

At the head of the table, you sat.

Your hands, your delicate hands, had been placed in your lap, folded as if in prayer, your nails still perfect, painted the shade of red he liked best. Your body—what remained of it—was dressed beautifully, wrapped in silk, your throat adorned with pearls. Your eyes were closed, lashes resting against cold skin, your lips parted slightly as if you might still whisper his name.

Damian sat across from you, his gloved fingers tapping idly against the mahogany surface, his green eyes gleaming in the dim light. He was watching you, as he always did, as he always would.

His plate was full.

Your legs—roasted to perfection—rested on a silver platter beside the fine china, the skin golden, the meat tender, glistening beneath the flickering light. He had been careful, had prepared you with the kind of precision only he was capable of, the same way he had handled a blade all his life—with love.

And this, this was love.

Damian took the knife and sliced through the meat, slow, methodical. The blade cut effortlessly, revealing the soft pink of the flesh beneath, the juices pooling as he lifted a piece onto his fork. He turned it over once, twice, admiring the texture, the way the candlelight made it shine.

Then, he ate.

The first bite was slow, measured, his eyes half-lidded as he let the taste settle on his tongue. The seasoning had been chosen carefully, meant to enhance, never to overpower. You were perfect. Of course, you were.

He swallowed, a slow exhale leaving him as he set the fork down. His fingers brushed over his mouth, dabbing away the faint trace of blood left behind. Then, he looked at you again, tilting his head slightly, a shadow of a smile forming at the corner of his lips.

“You always did say you belonged to me,” he murmured. His voice was quiet, reverent. “Now you never have to leave.”

Damian reached across the table, his fingers ghosting over your cheek, cold and smooth beneath his touch. You had been so stubborn, so resistant. Even as he tried to make you understand. Even as he whispered in your ear, again and again, that you were meant to be his.

It didn’t matter now.

You weren’t leaving. Not ever.

His hand drifted lower, fingertips pressing lightly against your collarbone, trailing over the silk fabric that covered the places where his blade had carved you apart. He had been careful—so, so careful. He had bathed you, dressed you, brushed your hair until it shone. You deserved that.

Damian took another bite, his jaw tightening slightly as the flavors settled on his tongue. There was something primal in it, something that made his pulse quicken, something that burned in the deepest part of him. This was more than just love.

This was devotion.

Possession.

He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing the last bite before wiping his mouth clean. Then, slowly, he stood. The chair scraped against the floor, but you didn’t move, didn’t stir. You never would again.

Damian stepped closer, rounding the table, stopping just beside you. He crouched, reaching out to cup your cheek, tilting your face toward him.

“You’re beautiful, beloved,” he whispered.

The words were soft, affectionate.

He leaned in, pressing his lips against your cold, unmoving mouth. The kiss was slow, deliberate, lingering far longer than it should have. His breath shuddered against your skin, his gloved fingers tightening just slightly where they held you.

His.

Forever.

When he pulled back, his eyes remained locked onto your face, searching, memorizing. He didn’t want to forget, not a single moment, not a single detail.

Damian exhaled slowly, his hand sliding away from your cheek, falling to his side. He straightened, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, smoothing out the fabric of his suit. Then, with one final glance at your still, perfect form, he spoke.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

© stxrkiss ☆ don't copy, translate or use my works here or any other websites.

[sinkuna]

Nanami Kento, who secretly likes when the word "daddy" leaves your lips- who absolutely breaks when you whimper it a second time. His body always going from cool to boiling, his jaw clenching tightly when he feels his hips shudder in their movements. "Again." he pleads- commands as his veiny hands crush your windpipe, but never hard enough to where you can’t babble that special word again.

Nanami Kento, who’s whole body jerks when you clean the mess of your combined releases with teasing kitten-licks, paying special attention to that sensitive spot just under his cockhead. His usually composed face twists in sweet agony, "Fuck…" he hisses through clenched teeth when you take just the tip between your lips, sucking gently to get those last pearly drops. "T-Too sensitive- dear-ah.." his fingers twisting painfully in your hair, fighting the urge to yank you off as pleasure begins to border on sweet torture, "feels… too gh-good." Who loves drinking in the sight of his perfect wife cleaning him so thoroughly. 

Nanami Kento, who if trying to breed you, makes sure every single drop of his precious seed is shoved back into your well fucked hole. Gripping your hips with bruising force when he sees his cum trickling down your thigh. Immediately pushing back inside with a filthy squelch, his swollen cockhead stirring his previous hot load deeper into your womb, making sure every drop stays locked inside where it belongs. "Good girls keep daddy’s cum nice and deep." he whispers in your ear, because damn does that pet name make his cock ache for more.

Nanami Kento, who’s cock throbs painfully against his suit pants when finding you displayed on his desk wearing nothing but that crystal garter belt he bought you. Who stalks towards you, methodically removing his tie while memorizing the lines of your body as if he's about to sketch them, "I can't decide if I should punish you for sitting on my papers, or reward you for being so beautiful. What do you think I should do to you?"

Nanami Kento, who cradles you against his battle-worn heart, strong arms creating a sanctuary in those moments between midnight and dawn. When the world holds its breath and time stands still, Nanami finally feels like he is allowed to rest. "I love you," his calloused fingers tracing poetry into your skin, each touch gentler than the last. 

Nanami Kento, who creates the perfect sanctuary of peace on lazy Sunday afternoons, his broad chest becoming your favorite pillow while you both lay intertwined on the couch. The same fearsome and respected grade 1 sorcerer who melts away, leaving just a man who is utterly thankful to be in your presence. "You... make me feel so...at ease..." he mumbles to himself, almost too quiet for you to hear, his hand slowly making its way up your body and coming to rest on your head, fingers stroking your hair as before drifting off to a blissful nap.

Nanami Kento, who keeps a photo of you wearing nothing but his blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up past your elbows, flour dusting your cheeks like constellations. The sun's rays through the kitchen window had caught you perfectly, highlighting the pure joy in your smile as you proudly displayed the milk bread you'd spent all day perfecting just for him. He finds himself staring at it during long meetings, a secret smile playing at his lips as he wonders if you're wearing nothing but that dress shirt now, baking his favorites. 

[that-random-fangirl]

Part 4 - Three Bats Walk Into a Food Court (And Also a Person)

~~~~~✨~~~~~

Jason’s brother was a dick. Without a doubt, 100%, an asshole. Said brother had insisted on meeting up for Sibling Bonding Jaybird! No, this was not ‘sibling bonding’, this was the result of the asshole losing a bet with Steph, having to go shopping with her as forfeit – and dragging Jason into the nightmare under false pretences.

“Dick.” Jason spat from the backseat, meaning it in every sense.

“Yes Lil’ Wing?” The Dick-in-question responded from the driver’s seat as he pulled into a parking space at the mall.

“Richard.” 

Richard (Dick) Grayson gasped in horror. “No! You can’t full name me I’m older than you!”

Steph snorted in the passenger seat. “It’s your legal name, not your full name, dumbass.”

“Then you can’t legal-name me! I’ll tell Alfred!” 

Jason raised an eyebrow, reaching into his jacket pocket for his wallet. “Oh really? You’ll tell Alfred?” 

“Yes.” 

Steph watched the exchange eagerly, hitting record on her phone to capture whatever followed. “Oh this’ll be good.”

Jason produced a card from his wallet and presented it to Dick. “There you go.”

“I told you writing ‘I do what I want’ on a card doesn’t count as any kind of permit. I’m a cop, I’m not gonna fall for that.” He scoffed, before adding in a mutter. “Again.”

“Nothing of the sort, Dickolas – look at the card.” Jason insisted.

“What? This one? Fine.” Dick sighed, before beginning to read in a mocking tone. “Master Jason has every right and my permission to legal-name Master Rich—” He trailed off. “What the fuck? Alfred is in on this?!”

“It was his idea, actually.” Steph commented. “Something about how someone has to do it when he’s not available.”

“Why the fuck does Jason have it?!”

“I was nominated.” Jason shrugged.

“That doesn’t answer my question?!”

“Well,” Steph started, beginning to count them off on her fingers, “Damian is the baby, so you’d never take it seriously. Duke was busy with finals at the time. Cass didn’t want it. I’m apparently not ‘mature’ enough, or something. Tim can barely take care of himself and keeps forgetting to sleep so it couldn’t be him. Babs already has authority over you and Bruce wasn’t involved.”

“Plus we don’t listen to the Old Man anyway.” Jason added.

Dick stared at them, mouth hanging open. “What qualified Jason?!”

“Well he did start his own very successful business.” Steph mused.

“He became a Crime Lord!”

“His Business has many departments, and he handles all of them without resorting to over-caffeination and sleep deprivation.”

“He’s literally a vigilante.”

“We’re all vigilantes, get with the program. He was the best one for the job.” Steph replied, climbing out of the car and tapping away on her phone, probably sending the video to the Bat-siblings group chat.

“But I’m the oldest.” Dick whined, making his way around the front of the car to stand with Steph.

“Precisely why you need someone to legal-name you, can’t have you getting too cocky now, can we?” Steph teased, looking up from her phone and pinching at one of Dick’s cheeks.

“No we cannot.” Jason agreed. “I’m in the front on the way back, by the way, I can’t believe you stuffed me in the backseat.” He shut the door with perhaps a touch more force than was necessary, just to see his brother’s face scrunch up in displeasure.

“Please don’t slam the door. I like this car.”

“Oops.” Jason deadpanned.

Steph chose that moment to interrupt. “Not my fault you’re gigantic, I was there first.” She flicked her hair off her shoulder. “I didn’t choose the Passenger Princess life, it chose me.”

“Well, next time you can ‘passenger princess’ in the back, your highness.” Jason bowed mockingly. “Then you can stretch out across the backseat.”

“Solid point – I call backsies when we’re done here!”

“You cannot stretch out on the backseat while I’m driving that’s illegal.”

Jason and Steph stared at Dick for a moment, then – realising he was serious – tried and failed to stifle their laughter. 

“Wow.” Steph gasped, smacking Jason’s shoulder in her amusement. “That’s hilarious, holy crap.”

“Yeah, alright Dickhead, sure.” Jason snorted.

“I’m serious.” 

“Jeez if you’re that worried, I’ll drive.” Jason shrugged. “Can’t have the ‘passenger princess’ not playing passenger.”

Dick pressed his fingers together and into his chin. “I just said I like this car, you are not driving it.”

“You know I’m the best driver out of the clan, excluding Alfred, of course.” Jason protested.

“You drive like you have nothing to live for.” Dick pointed out, immediately regretting his words.

“Well yeah, I died.”

“Oh my God.” Dick threw his hands in the air, spinning on his heel and marching towards the entrance to the mall. “Nope, you are not driving my car. Let’s go get this done before you people drive me to the dark timeline.”

Steph and Jason trailed after him, sniggering.

Eventually, with only one instance of Jason ramming Dick into a concrete planter in the parking lot, the trio made it into the mall. Steph had stowed her phone and set off at a truly impressive – if you didn’t know she was a vigilante who leapt from rooftops after hours – pace for the other side of the complex.

“Steph! Slow down!” Dick begged, hopelessly.

“Dick! Hurry up!” Steph responded.

“Why are you going all the way to the other side of the mall? Don’t you wanna look here?” Dick blurted, confused.

“Dicky-boy, why don’t you know how to shop?” Steph halted in her march, facing them to shake her head. “The answer is so obvious!”

“No it’s not?!” Came Dick’s desperate reply.

Jason sighed, deciding to help his idiot older brother. “We’re starting further so we finish closer, dumbass.”

“Ohhh.” 

“Yes, ‘ohhh’, fuckin’ idiot.”

Steph smirked, spinning back on her heel and setting off again with a flick of her hair over her shoulder. Her minions associates following close behind.

Truthfully, this situation was Danny’s fault, He hadn’t been looking where he was going and now, he was drenched in several hot drinks and covered in three different kinds of fries. In his defence, he was running on probably 20 minutes of sleep and still injured – with all that on top of literally being half dead – it’s fair to say he was a little out of it.

“Well, that’s not ideal.” Danny muttered. 

That didn’t quite cover it, but it was better than the expletives that had filled the air following his collision with a tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed man carrying a tray of food court fare. The tray of food that was now all over Danny and the man himself.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry are you okay?!” The man exclaimed.

“Are these chilli cheese fries? I’d ask if you recommend them but I’m guessing you haven’t tried them.” Danny asked, only to be met with silence. “Okay, wrong crowd, it’s fine – don’t worry.”

“Uh, you sure, kid? You’re covered in – well – a whole lotta stuff.” A blonde woman in a purple sweatshirt pointed out.

“I’m not a kid,” Danny grunted, “and I’ve been covered in worse things.”

“When and how?” Some jock-looking dude with a white streak in his black hair – weird fashion statement but go off, I guess – asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Um, people like you aren’t exactly ‘besties’ with people like me?” Danny stated, gesturing to – well – all of the guy in question before doing the same to himself. “I end up in lockers and trashcans because I fit?”

“What do you mean ‘people like you?” The guy asked, somewhere between insulted and concerned.

“Uh, jocks? What did you think I meant?”

“You – hah – you think Jason is a jock?!” The guy who Danny bumped into in the first place laughed from the floor where he’d landed post-collision.

“Uh,” Danny started, “I did, though it looks like I was wrong? Sorry, man.”

“It’s fine, kid.” Jason responded, raising an eyebrow with half a smile, daring him to say anything.

“I probably deserved that.” Danny laughed. “Sorry about your lunch, I guess?”

“It’s fine.” The girl assured. “Dick ran into you.”

“I’m sure he’s not a dick!” Danny insisted.

She laughed out loud with Jason while the other guy just smiled.

“She’s not calling me names, don’t worry.” His smile grew. Apparently, he was trying not to laugh, he offered a hand to shake. “My name is Richard, but I go by Dick. The girl about to fall over is Steph, and the guy is Jason.”

“Oh, okay then.” Danny replied, attempting to avoid mentioning that high school must have sucked for this guy. 

He decided the ‘Dick’ name must be a Gotham thing, as that Duke guy from the library had a brother was also apparently called that. He shook Dick’s hand, before suddenly recalling that he hadn’t introduced himself. 

“Oh, right, I’m Danny.”

“Nice to meet you, Danny – let us help you clean yourself up.”

“Oh no it’s fine don’t worry!” Danny tried. “I can sort myself out later!”

“Nope, I just picked up a couple spare sweaters – I have a lot of siblings and they like to steal them – so you and Dick will go change while Steph and I order some more lunch and let one of the workers know about the mess.” Jason insisted, handing Dick his bag before adding; “You like fries, Danny?”

“Yeah? Wait what?”

“Great! Thanks Jay!” Dick called, accepting the bag and grabbing Danny’s hand, half-dragging and half-guiding the boy to the nearest restroom.

Outside the cubicles, Dick handed Danny a sweater.

“Here you go! Blue for you and red for me!”

“Why?”

“Well, blue matches your eyes and red is Jason’s favourite colour, so as his brother I like to wear it to remind him I’m secretly his favourite.” Dick laughed.

“I meant, why are you being so nice to me?” Danny asked, staring into the man’s eyes, “I ran into you, spilled your lunch everywhere and yet you guys are giving me a sweater and apparently buying me lunch? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Why shouldn’t I help you out? It wasn’t your fault, just bad luck.” Dick asked.

“Hah, I seem to get a lot of that.” Danny mumbled, before speaking up, “You don’t even know me.”

 “Why should that stop me from helping you out if I can?” He paused a moment, noticing the lines of distrust etched into Danny’s expression, “ Maybe you remind me of my brother.”

“Jason?”

“Yeah,” Dick nodded.

“How? He’s, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, huge – I’m average-sized at best and compared to that guy I’m a shrimp.”

“He wasn’t always linebacker-sized,” Dick snorted, “He used to be smaller than you – scrappy too.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, I guess there’s a little more to it than that,” Dick pondered, “We didn’t get along all that well when we were younger, I still regret that. We missed a lot of time together that I wish I could get back.”

“That’s, um, deep?” Danny shifted foot-to-foot, “Thanks – I think?”

“No worries – happy to help!” Dick beamed.

Danny accepted the sweater awkwardly, not sure how to deal with the information that this random dude had just dropped in his lap. He shook it off, heading into the cubicle to change.

Dick watched for half a second, suddenly hit by a wave of emotion. He shook his head, clinging onto the look in Danny’s eyes as a distraction – the same look that was etched into everything Jason did as a child, and reared it’s head even now, at times. The desperation, the mistrust, and worst of all – the way he seemed to accept it as inevitable, like it wasn’t a surprise. Dick didn’t mention that he heard Danny’s comment about having a lot of bad luck. He didn’t mention that the kid looked tired, too thin – he didn’t mention how bony he felt when they collided.

If he texted Jason to get an extra serving or two of fries, that was between him and his Little Wing. If Jason had a few milkshakes along with the fries waiting for them – Dick’s favourite flavour, too – that was simply a coincidence. Steph said nothing, and Danny had no way of knowing.

By the end of lunch, Danny had weaselled Jason’s address out of him, so he could return the sweater once he’d washed it (the kid insisted, though Jason wouldn’t have minded if he never saw the sweater again). Danny wasn’t as subtle as he hoped, but it was hard to get anything by bat-trained vigilantes, and Jason shared the information easily – hopeful that the kid would come if he was ever in any trouble too.

The group bid their goodbyes, Danny heading out on his own, the others returning to their shopping. Soon enough, distracted with their lives and heroics, the vigilantes forgot about the boy with icy eyes, who watched with distrust. A week later, Jason received a package in the mailbox, inside of which was the sweater, some candy and a green post-it note:

‘Thanks for the sweater, and the fries – see you around.

– Danny’

The traces of Lazarus water on the note were only discovered when the other message appeared, weeks later.

‘When her Knights have been called, and arrive on the scene,

Release him, only together can you all win.

If the True shall be bold, you’ll learn where he’s been,

When all is as it should be, the city bells will ring.

– CW’

“Do you ever think Batman gets sad?” Young Danny asks his father as he gets tucked into bed one night.

“I don’t think so, son.” Jack responds, kissing Danny’s head.

Ten years later, as Danny is nearly bleeding to death in Batman’s arms after being found in an alley, he finally understands. Batman can get sad, but he can also be very, very angry at the same time.

[gdinthehouseee]

Valentine's: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: a steamy valentine's date with ji-yong in his penthouse

word count: 6397

tags: fluff, mature (for spice? steam? there's no actual smut)

ao3 link

It was finally Valentine’s day. You had spent the night back at your own place, something you haven’t done in probably months ever since you started dating Ji-yong—practically already moved in together at his place instead. Last night, he told you he wanted this day to be special, so you figured you would go home for the night in order to put some real effort into your look tonight. Naturally, this morning, you spent hours making sure everything was perfect: everything from your outfit to the gift you bought him. At least it was easier to hide that. 

Finally, the sun had set and it was time for the real fun to begin.

The scent of something rich and savory fills the air as you step into Ji-yong’s penthouse, the warm lighting casting soft shadows across the sleek interior. Your eyes immediately land on him—standing by the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up, a soft smile playing on his lips as he stirs a pot on the stove.

“You’re just in time, aein.” He says smoothly, glancing over his shoulder to give you a once-over. His gaze lingers a little longer than necessary. “Did you dress up just for me?”

You scoff, setting your bag down. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one who looks like you’re about to seduce someone.”

“Maybe I am.”

Before you can fire back, he closes the distance between you and reaches for your hand, guiding it to his chest dramatically. “Feel that? My heart’s racing already. You really do have that effect on me.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You roll your eyes, but your expression betrays you as you keep your hand over his heart.

“You know you love it,” he teases, tugging you closer until you’re nearly flush against him. “Now, if you’ll behave and keep me company, I might even let you taste what I’m cooking.”

He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief and flickering towards your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Or, you could just taste me instead. Your choice.”

“Ji,” you whined. “What’s gotten into you?”

Thankfully, your bashful smile let him know that you were both enjoying his boldness. No matter how much you rolled your eyes or tried to act unaffected, the soft curve of your lips gave you away every time. Ji-yong lived for that—watching the way your defenses crumbled under his charm, the way your gaze flickered between playful defiance and quiet surrender. It was a game he loved playing, pushing just enough to make you flustered, but never too much to overwhelm you. And judging by the warmth creeping up your cheeks, he was winning.

“Am I not allowed to flirt with my girl?” He jokingly pouted, one hand remained over your hand on his chest while his other hand found its home at your waist. 

“Of course you are.” 

“That’s what I thought,” he said before pressing a quick peck to your lips. “C’mon, let my cooking impress you instead.” 

The countertop is lined with ingredients, a simmering pot sending out a rich, mouthwatering aroma. You watch as he moves effortlessly around the kitchen, confident in every step. He grabs a spoon, dips it into the sauce, and turns to you with that signature smirk still plastered on his face. “Here. Taste.”

You lean in slightly, expecting him to hold out the spoon properly, but instead, he lifts it higher—forcing you to tilt your head back as he guides it between your lips. The warmth of the sauce spreads across your tongue, but all you can focus on is the way Ji-yong’s gaze drops to your lips, his smirk deepening.

“Good?” He asks, his voice lower now.

You swallow, trying not to show how flustered you suddenly feel. “Yeah. It’s really good.”

He hums in satisfaction, but instead of stepping back, he raises a finger and swipes it across the corner of your lips. “You had a little something…” He brings his finger to his own lips and licks it off, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time. “Can’t waste it.”

You scoff, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he muses, tilting his head, “you’re still here.” He leans in just a fraction closer, his voice dropping. “Does that mean you like it when I tease you, jagiya?”

You roll your eyes and turn toward the counter, forcing yourself to focus on something—anything—other than the way he’s looking at you. “You clearly need supervision, so I’m helping.”

“Helping? That’s cute.”

“I know how to cook, you know.”

“Sure you do,” he teases, stepping behind you so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. Before you can respond, his hands slide over yours, effortlessly guiding them to the knife on the counter. “Let me see, then.”

Your fingers tighten slightly on the handle, heat radiating from his body behind you. “Ji-yong.”

“Hm?” He rests his chin on your shoulder, completely unfazed. “I’m just helping, right?”

You exhale sharply, trying to ignore the way his voice drips with amusement. “I don’t need you hovering over me.”

He hums as if considering your words, then suddenly reaches around you, grabbing an ingredient from the counter—brushing against you just enough to send a jolt up your spine. “Ah, my bad,” he murmurs, lips dangerously close to your ear. “Didn’t mean to get in your way.”

You whip around, intending to glare at him properly, but the moment you do, he lifts a small piece of fruit to your lips. “Open up, aein.”

“What—”

“Shh.” He taps the fruit against your bottom lip, a lazy smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Be good and try it.”

Despite your attempt to act like you were annoyed with him, you open your mouth, and he places it on your tongue, his fingers lingering a little too long. His eyes flicker down, watching the way your lips close around it.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he murmurs, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You chew slowly, refusing to let him see just how much he’s getting to you. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

He grins. “Of course I am.” He picks up another piece, twirling it between his fingers. “The question is… are you?”

You swallow, willing yourself not to fall into his trap. Instead, you decide to turn the tables. Two can play this game. With a slow, deliberate movement, you step closer, reaching past him to grab a piece of fruit for yourself. He watches, amused, as you bring it to your lips—but instead of eating it right away, you pause. You roll the fruit lightly between your fingers, letting your lips hover just above it, pretending to inspect it. “Hmm,” you hum thoughtfully, glancing at him through your lashes. “I don’t know… do you think I should try it, Ji-yong?”

His smirk falters just slightly—his eyes flicker to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. You don’t give him a chance to recover. Slowly, so excruciatingly slowly, you bring the fruit to your mouth and take a bite, your lips just barely brushing your fingers. Your tongue flicks out to catch the sweetness, and you swear you hear Jiyong’s breath hitch.

You let out a small, pleased hum as you chew, tilting your head. “Mmm. You were right. It’s good.”

His smirk is still there, but his jaw tenses slightly. “Glad you approve.”

You take another bite, even slower this time, then reach up with your thumb to wipe the juice lingering at the corner of your lips. His eyes track the movement immediately. For the final blow, you bring your thumb to your lips—just like he did earlier—and suck the sweetness away, holding eye contact the entire time.

Ji-yong stills. You see it—the exact moment the teasing backfires on him. His smirk wavers, his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, you even heard the way his breath hitched. For once, he doesn’t have a witty comeback.

Satisfied, you tilt your head. “Something wrong?”

Jiyong exhales, slow and measured, before abruptly closing the distance between you.

“Oh, aein,” he murmurs, tilting your chin up with just two fingers. His gaze is dangerously dark now, heated in a way that makes your stomach flip. “You really wanna play this game with me?”

You blink innocently. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He chuckles, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. His hand doesn’t drop from your chin—instead, his thumb brushes along your jawline, slow and teasing.

“You’re cute,” he murmurs, his lips so close you can feel his breath. “But you should know better than to tease me, princess.”

Before you can react, his other hand suddenly slides down, gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your breath catches, and he grins, fully aware of what he’s doing to you.

“Now,” he says, voice nothing but smooth velvet, “let’s see how long you can keep up, hmm?”

Oh. You��re in trouble.

His grip on your waist tightens, holding you exactly where he wants you. His smirk is still there, but there’s something darker behind it now—something that makes your pulse skyrocket. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish this game he started. Not that either of you want to stop playing.

“You’ve been getting bold,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your hip. “Teasing me like that. Acting all innocent when we both know you’re not.”

You refuse to back down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, keeping your voice steady despite the way your heart is slamming against your ribs.

Ji-yong lets out a low, knowing hum. “No?”

Before you can react, he shifts, caging you in completely—his arm sliding around your lower back, his other hand pressing flat against the counter beside you. He leans in, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“Then why,” he murmurs, voice rich with amusement, “do you look like you’re about to melt?”

You inhale sharply, trying to keep your composure. But it’s impossible when his presence is so overwhelming—the scent of him, the heat of his body, the way his lips are hovering over your skin, never quite touching, but making you ache for it anyway.

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze, challenging him right back. “If anyone’s about to melt, it’s you,” you whisper.

Ji-yong exhales sharply through his nose—a laugh, but barely. His grip tightens, his body pressing into yours just enough to make you shiver.

“Oh?” He muses, tilting his head. “That so?”

His hand on your waist slides lower, fingers grazing over the curve of your hip—slow, deliberate, teasing. He’s watching you, studying the way your breath catches, how your fingers clutch at the counter behind you.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you is gone.

His lips brush against your jaw, featherlight, before ghosting down your neck. It’s barely a touch, but it’s enough to make your stomach tighten. However, he can’t help himself as he begins to kiss your jawline. Slow and soft pecks trailing down your jaw and your neck, until he reaches your collarbone.

“Still think I’m the one melting?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice so dangerously low it sends a shiver down your spine.

Your fingers instinctively grip his shirt, as if holding onto something solid will keep you from completely losing yourself in him. Of course, he notices, and he grins against your neck.

“You’re already falling apart for me.”

Your head is spinning, your breath uneven, but how could it not be? Ji-yong is right there, pressing against you like he has no intention of letting go—and God, he looks unfairly good doing it.

The dim lighting casts soft shadows over his sharp features, highlighting the mischief in his eyes, the slight smirk tugging at his lips, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead like he was made to look this effortlessly perfect. His jaw is so sharp it could cut, his skin so frustratingly smooth it’s unfair, and then—those lips. Lips that are so close to yours now, parted just slightly, so warm against your skin as he teases you without even trying. His scent—clean, expensive, intoxicating—wraps around you like a slow-burning haze, making it impossible to think of anything but him. And then there’s his hands—warm, and so damn sure of themselves, holding you in place, fingers pressing just hard enough to make your stomach tighten. His confidence, the way he looks at you like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, has you completely undone before he even touches you properly. How is it fair that someone can look this good and know exactly how to use it? And worse—how are you supposed to survive it?

And then—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP!

A loud, obnoxious timer shatters the moment.

For a second, neither of you react—both frozen, caught in the tension that had been building like a slow-burning fire.

Then, he exhales sharply, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he lets out a deep, frustrated groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters, his grip on your waist flexing like he’s resisting the urge to just ignore it altogether.

You, on the other hand, are biting back a grin. “Ji-yong,” you say, feigning innocence, “I think something’s burning.”

His fingers tighten just slightly before he finally pulls back, shooting a glare toward the kitchen timer like it personally offended him.

“I hate that thing,” he deadpans, jaw clenching as he forces himself to step away from you.

You laugh, still breathless, but can’t help the way your lips curve in satisfaction. “You were the one who insisted on cooking.”

His eyes darken again instantly, and suddenly, you realize teasing him right now might be dangerous. He lets out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders back like he’s trying to shake off the tension that had just settled so thickly between you. His jaw is still tight, and you don’t miss the way his fingers flex before he finally forces himself to step away.

“You’re lucky I care about feeding you,” he mutters, tossing a glance your way as he checks on the food.

You cross your arms, watching the way his back muscles shift under his shirt as he moves around the kitchen. It’s almost unfair—even when he’s frustrated, he looks good enough to ruin you.

“I don’t know,” you muse, leaning against the counter. “Seemed like you cared about something else a lot more just now.”

Ji-yong pauses. For a moment, he just stands there, hands braced against the counter, before he slowly—so slowly—turns to face you again.

“Oh?” His voice is deceptively light, but his gaze? Dangerous. “Are you saying you’d rather skip dinner?”

“Didn’t say that.”

He hums, his eyes still too intense as he starts plating the food. “Good,” he murmurs, sliding a plate in front of you before leaning in just slightly. “Because you’re gonna need the energy later.”

Your stomach flips, and you hate how easily he turns the tables back on you. He grins, knowing exactly what he’s doing, before grabbing his own plate and nodding toward the dining table. “C’mon, aein. Let’s eat.”

You exhale, trying to calm the warmth in your cheeks, before following him.

He lights a few candles, their soft glow casting warm flickers of light across the sleek tabletop. The ambient dimness makes the setting feel far too intimate, like something straight out of a private five-star restaurant. He places the plates down with precision, adjusting them like an artist perfecting his masterpiece. A bottle of expensive wine appears next, because of course he has that on hand, followed by two glasses that catch the light just right. He even adds a small vase with a single rose—a dramatic touch, but so undeniably him. When he finally steps back, admiring his work, he catches you staring and smirks. “What?” he teases, tilting his head. “Didn’t think I’d put in the effort?”

Your gaze flickers back to Ji-yong, who’s watching you with that infuriatingly smug expression, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“I just…” You trail off, lips parting slightly as you glance at the setup again. “I wasn’t expecting all this.”

He leans casually against the chair, his smirk only growing. “You wound me, aein,” he sighs dramatically. “Do you really think I’d invite you over for dinner and not make it perfect?”

“Perfect, huh?”

He shrugs, stepping closer—too close. “Well,” he murmurs, eyes glinting as he reaches for the wine, “it’ll be perfect once you sit down and let me pour you a drink.”

You finally sink into your chair, still feeling a little dazed from how effortlessly Jiyong managed to make this dinner feel so special. He pours you a glass of wine first, his fingers steady and graceful, before taking his own seat across from you. For a moment, there’s a comfortable silence. The soft glow of the candles flickers between you, casting shadows over his sharp features. He watches you as you take the first bite, eyes filled with genuine curiosity.

“Well?” He asks, resting his chin on his palm, waiting for your reaction.

You pretend to consider, chewing slowly as if deep in thought.

His eyes narrow. “Don’t even—”

Before he can finish, you let out a dramatic sigh, setting your fork down. “I guess it’s okay…”

Ji-yong scoffs, rolling his eyes, but there’s amusement flickering behind them. “You’re such a brat,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Give me that.”

Before you can stop him, he reaches across the table with his own fork, stealing a bite from your plate. His expression shifts almost immediately—satisfaction mixed with pure smugness.

“Yeah,” he hums, chewing slowly. “Tastes like perfection. Just like I thought.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “You really know how to fish for compliments, huh?”

He tilts his head, a lazy grin forming. “I don’t need to fish for them. I already know I’m amazing.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

But as you glance around the table—the candles flickering, the way he watches you between bites, the small, intimate details he put into everything—you realize something: he didn’t have to do all this. When it comes to showing his love for you, Ji-yong loves extravagance, sure, but this dinner? This was different. This wasn’t for show. This wasn’t for anyone else. This was for you.

Your heart softens, and without thinking, you murmur, “Thank you, Ji.”

He pauses mid-bite, blinking at you like he wasn’t expecting that. “For what?”

You shrug, nudging a piece of food around your plate. “For this. For making it special.”

His smirk falters for just a second before something warmer takes its place. He leans back in his chair, watching you closely, his teasing tone now laced with something softer.

“Of course, aein,” he murmurs, lips quivering. “You deserve it.”

And just like that, your heart is completely gone.

Dinner continues at a slow, unhurried pace, both of you enjoying the food and each other’s company. The teasing ebbs into easy conversation, laughter spilling effortlessly between bites, and for a while, it’s just… nice. Comfortable. Like the world outside doesn’t exist. He watches you fondly as you take another bite, his elbow resting on the table, chin propped up on his hand. He’s been staring at you like that for a while now—like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“What?” you ask, lips twitching as you meet his gaze.

“Nothing,” he says, swirling his wine glass lazily. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“How cute you look when you’re enjoying your food.”

A flush creeps up your neck before you can stop it. “Oh my god, Jiyong—”

He grins, setting his glass down. “What? It’s true.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table as his voice drops just slightly, just enough to make your stomach flip. “You make the smallest happy noises when you like something. It’s adorable.”

Your mouth opens—ready to argue, ready to defend yourself—but then you realize you can’t even deny it. He must’ve been paying such close attention to notice that. And that realization? It makes your heart ache in the best way.

You clear your throat, playing with the stem of your glass just to avoid looking directly at him. “You notice too much.”

Jiyong exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I just notice you.”

The words settle between you, gentle but weighted, sinking in like warmth spreading through your chest. There’s no teasing in his voice this time. Just honesty. That’s more dangerous than any flirtation. For a moment, you just look at him—this man who could have anyone, who could be anywhere, but right now, he’s here. With you. Watching you like you’re the only thing worth paying attention to.

“…You’re not so bad yourself, you know,” you finally murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He starts grinning as if he had just won something. “Oh, I know.”

“Unbelievable.” You groan, tossing a napkin at him.

But even as you shake your head, you can’t stop the softness creeping into your smile. By the time dinner winds down, you feel light, warm, and completely at ease. The teasing has softened into something quieter, something closer, as you sit across from Jiyong in the glow of candlelight, your empty plates long forgotten.

Ji-yong finishes the last sip of his wine, then sets his glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Not bad for a home-cooked meal, right?”

You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “Mmm… I guess you can keep your title as a decent chef.”

He scoffs, clearly unimpressed by your lack of enthusiasm. “Decent?” He stands, making his way over to you, his smirk lazy but his eyes holding something softer. “Jagiya, you practically moaned over that food.”

Your jaw drops. “I did not—”

He laughs, reaching out to take your hand. “Come on,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, quieter. “I have something else planned.”

Before you can ask what, he tugs you up from your seat, guiding you toward the spacious living area. The city skyline stretches out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a breathtaking backdrop to the moment. But it’s not what captures your attention. It’s the way he holds your hand so naturally, like he was always meant to.

“What are we doing?” You ask, looking up at him.

“Dancing.”

He reaches for a remote and clicks a button. Within seconds, soft, slow music fills the space, blending seamlessly into the ambience of the night.

Your breath catches slightly. “You planned this?”

Ji-yong’s fingers thread through yours, his other hand settling lightly at your waist. His touch is warm, steady—so sure of itself, like he’s been waiting for this.

“I told you,” he murmurs, leading you into an easy sway. “I wanted tonight to be perfect.”

Your heart stumbles, warmth spreading through your chest like honey. How does he do this? How does he make you melt with just a few words?

“You’re so dramatic,” you tease, but your voice is softer now, barely above a whisper.

He grins, pulling you just a little closer. “And you love it.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t deny it because right now, wrapped up in his arms, your bodies moving in slow rhythm beneath the dim glow of the penthouse lights, you can’t remember a time when you felt this safe. And when Jiyong’s hand slides up your back, his touch gentle but grounding, you know—you don’t want this night to end.

His grip on your hand tightens just slightly before he lifts it, guiding you into a slow, effortless twirl. You let yourself spin under his touch, the motion making the hem of your outfit shift slightly, your hair catching the light just right. For that brief moment, everything feels weightless—dreamlike. But when you turn back to face him, you catch the way he’s looking at you. His gaze roams over you slowly, deliberately, like he has every intention of memorizing you. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, his dark eyes drinking in every single detail as if seeing you for the first time.

Warmth rushes to your face as you clear your throat, shifting slightly under his stare. “What?” you ask, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected.

He tilts his head, amusement flickering in his expression as he tugs you closer again, resuming your slow sway. His voice drops, low and utterly sincere.

“You’re beautiful.”

Your breath catches. Not cute. Not pretty. Beautiful. And the way he says it—so effortlessly, like it’s just a fact—makes your heart stumble.

“Getting shy, are we?”

You groan, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “You are so—”

“Charming? Handsome? Completely smitten with you?”

You huff, looking away, but that only makes him grin wider. And then, in a move that’s entirely unfair, he leans in, his lips brushing just beneath your ear as he murmurs, “Don’t look away. I meant it.”

Your stomach flips.

Oh, he’s serious. So serious.

He pulls back just enough to look at you again, his expression warm, unreadable, and maybe even a little too tender. His hand lifts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a touch so gentle it nearly undoes you.

"You should hear it more often," he muses, voice low and honeyed.

Your lips part, but no words come out—because how are you supposed to respond when he says things like that?

He watches your reaction, his teasing smile softening. His arms tighten around you as he spins you playfully again, stealing another lingering glance before pulling you back into him. His gaze is nothing short of adoring.

The soft melody still lingers in the air, but you stop moving first.

Ji-yong’s brow lifts as you take a step back, though his grip on your waist tightens, like he’s not ready to let you go. His lips curl. “What, done with me already?”

You grin, tilting your head. “Maybe.”

His smirk falters. Just slightly. You take advantage of the moment, slipping from his hold to retrieve something from where you’d hidden it earlier. You don’t miss the way his eyes follow you.

“Relax, I’m not leaving,” you tease, casting him a glance over your shoulder. “I just have something for you.”

When you turn back, holding a small, neatly wrapped box, Jiyong looks genuinely surprised. His gaze flickers between the gift and your face, and for once, he seems… speechless.

“You got me something?” He finally asks, like the idea never occurred to him.

You smirk, stepping closer. Close enough that he has no choice but to focus on you.

“Of course,” you murmur, trailing a finger down the front of his shirt, just to see his reaction. “What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t?”

Jiyong inhales, but his smirk returns—a little slower this time. “That’s what I normally say.”

“Not anymore.” You grin, pressing the box into his hands. “Now, open it.”

He watches you for a second longer, like he’s trying to figure out what game you’re playing. Then, finally, he pulls at the ribbon and lifts the lid.

The moment he sees what’s inside, his smirk fades.

The bracelet inside is sleek, but there’s a personal touch—a custom engraving on the inside. Jiyong’s thumb drags over it, his eyes lingering.

“You really know me, huh?” His voice is softer now.

“Obviously.”

His gaze snaps back to yours immediately. This time, there’s something different—an intensity that wasn’t there a second ago. For the first time tonight, you feel like you have him cornered. Slowly, you reach for his wrist, lifting it between both of yours. “Here,” you murmur. “Let me put it on for you.”

His fingers twitch slightly when your fingertips brush against his skin. You don’t rush. Instead, you take your time. He exhales slowly as you fasten the clasp, his usual teasing nowhere to be found. His gaze stays locked on your face, but there’s a flicker of something else. Something like anticipation. Restraint.

“You’re quiet.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Am I?”

“Mmhmm.” You run your fingers over his wrist deliberately, letting your touch linger. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

His jaw tenses. Oh, this is fun.

You let your fingers trace the bracelet just a little longer than necessary, then glance up at him through your lashes. You can see it now—the tiniest hint of pink dusting his ears. He knows what you’re doing. And he can’t stop it. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his voice coming out a little rougher than before. “You’re playing with fire, aein.”

You smile innocently. “I have no idea what you mean.”

His gaze darkens—and just like that, the shift happens. His fingers catch your wrist mid-movement, grip firm but careful. His smirk is back, a little lazier now, a little more dangerous. “You think you can tease me?” he murmurs, tilting his head. His thumb brushes against your pulse point, slow and deliberate. “That’s cute.”

Your breath hitches—not because of his words, but because of the way he says them. He steps closer.

“I should give you something too,” he muses. His grip doesn’t loosen. “Something to match.”

Your brows furrow, but before you can even question it, he releases you and disappears into the other room.

And when he returns, dangling from his fingertips, is a delicate necklace.

The necklace swings in Jiyong’s hand, glinting with the soft lighting as he holds it just out of reach. There’s a predatory look in his eyes, the glimmer of amusement dancing across his features as he teases you.

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, your voice playful but filled with challenge. “You really think I’m just going to beg for this?”

His smile widens, his gaze darkening slightly. “I don’t think you will. I know you will.” His voice drops an octave, dripping with confidence as he steps closer.

You refuse to back down, crossing your arms, determination flooding your veins. “I’m not begging.”

“Oh, but you will,” he murmurs, stepping closer. There’s a dangerous edge to his voice now, though the smile never fades. “You’ll ask. In your own way.”

You scoff, but there’s a flutter in your chest, excitement mixing with the heat he’s radiating. “You’re not getting ‘nice’ from me.”

The corner of his mouth tilts upward, a silent challenge flickering in his gaze. “We’ll see about that.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into his chest in one swift motion, your back hitting him hard as he spins you around. You gasp, slightly disoriented, but you’re quickly steadied by his hands on your waist. You try to steady yourself, trying to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. “I’m not begging.”

Ji-yong’s lips brush against your ear, his voice low. “You don’t have to beg, but you do need to ask. Nicely.”

He’s testing you, pushing your limits with every word. The coolness of the necklace rests in his hand, so close you can practically taste it. But he doesn’t make a move to put it on you just yet. Instead, he slides the necklace slowly between his fingers, watching you with that quiet intensity. His lips graze your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You’re fighting to maintain control, to keep your composure, but it’s hard with the way he’s acting.

“You know, princess,” he whispers softly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

You try to focus, but his hands slide down your arms, slow, deliberate, every touch purposeful. He leans in, his lips just barely grazing the back of your neck as he savors the moment, lingering for far longer than necessary.

“I’m not begging,” you murmur, but the words are shaky now, losing their strength.

He laughs, soft and rich, a sound full of dark amusement. He moves back slightly, and for a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you two. You try to take a deep breath, but he takes his time, the necklace still dangling loosely from his fingers. Every second feels like an eternity as he looks you over—taking you in, analyzing you.

“Say please,” he demands suddenly, his voice cool and commanding, forcing you to look at him. You try to hold your ground, but the way he’s looking at you—like he’s already won—makes it impossible. His eyes flash darkly as he leans in again, his lips grazing your skin with a lingering kiss along your neck. The warmth of his breath makes your pulse quicken. The tension between you two only grows thicker, more suffocating, until you can’t keep your composure anymore. You shiver slightly, trying to breathe through the moment.

Finally, unable to stand the pressure any longer, you whisper it: “Please, Ji-yong.”

The second the word leaves your lips, his hand moves, quick and sure, as he slides the necklace around your neck. The cool metal is the only thing that cools the fire spreading through your veins. But even after he places the necklace carefully around your throat, his fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary. He adjusts the chain slowly, his fingertips grazing your skin with each touch, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

The way he looks at you now—the satisfaction in his gaze—is almost enough to make you forget everything else.

“Good.” He looks down at you, eyes dark with desire, lips curling just enough to show the power he’s taken from you. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

As he waits for your response, his eyes still locked on yours, you can’t help but smile, your fingers gently brushing over the delicate chain of the necklace he just put on you. The way the soft sparkle catches the light makes you pause, admiring how it fits perfectly around your neck, just like it was made for you.

You tilt your head slightly, your fingers lightly grazing the pendant as you gaze up at him. "You know," you start, your voice soft and filled with admiration, "I can’t stop looking at it."

He watches you, clearly intrigued. "Yeah? You like it?" His voice carries a hint of pride, but there’s something vulnerable in his eyes, too. It’s like he’s hoping you truly appreciate it.

You smile, your fingers gently tracing the necklace, and your eyes lift to meet his. "I love it," you say, your voice warm, sincere. "You really know how to pick the perfect gift."

Ji-yong's gaze softens, his earlier teasing gone as he watches you with a fond expression. "I’m glad," he murmurs, stepping a little closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. "It’s all for you, princess."

For a moment, you both just stand there, the sweet sincerity of the moment filling the space between you. The tension from before fades away, replaced by something softer, more intimate. You catch his eyes again, a small smile on your lips, feeling the weight of the gift and the gesture behind it settle in. You then continue to gaze at the necklace, your fingers tracing its smooth, delicate pendant as you let out a soft sigh. The way it catches the light only seems to make it more beautiful, but it’s not just the gift that’s leaving you speechless—it’s the gesture, the care behind it, and the way Ji-yong’s eyes are locked onto you, full of affection.

"It’s perfect," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as you lift your gaze to meet his. You’re so focused on the warmth in his eyes, the way he’s watching you, that it’s almost like everything else disappears for a moment.

He steps closer, his hand gently brushing against your cheek as he leans in to kiss you softly. It’s tender, almost too gentle for the electric tension building between you. You can feel the heat of his body pressing into yours, and when he pulls back, his voice is low, almost growling with desire.

"You’re perfect," he murmurs, his lips hovering just above yours. "But I need you now."

Ji-yong doesn’t give you a moment to breathe. As soon as his words sink in, he’s on you again, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that sets your skin ablaze. His hands move with purpose, gripping your waist, pulling you against him until there’s nothing left between you but heat. His kiss is demanding, his tongue sweeping past your lips as he takes everything you’re willing to give—and more.

A soft gasp escapes you as he presses you back against the nearest wall, his body molding to yours, his hands roaming your curves like he can’t stand a single inch of space between you. One hand cups your jaw, angling your face so he can deepen the kiss, while the other slides down, gripping your hip before tugging your thigh up against his. The sheer need in the way he holds you, in the way his fingers dig in just enough to make you gasp, sets your pulse racing.

His kisses grow more urgent, more desperate, as though he’s trying to drown himself in you. He pulls away for just a second, his breath warm against your lips, his eyes dark and full of heat as they flicker over your face. Then he’s back again, kissing you harder, deeper, as if he never wants to stop. His fingers tangle into your hair, tugging just enough to send a sharp thrill down your spine, and the sound you make has him groaning against your mouth.

"You're driving me crazy," he murmurs between kisses, his voice low and rough. "Do you even realize what you do to me?"

“I could say the same about you,” you whisper back, no longer being able to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. You try to squeeze your thighs together for some sort of friction, and he notices. Of course he does.

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah—”

“Good. Because I’m craving something much sweeter.”

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @petersasteri

[maybanksprincess]

secrets n' promises

warnings: cheating (dont do that), fwb-ish, kissing, p in v sex, hickies, pussy slapping, neck biting, dom!jj obviously

pairings: fwb!jj maybank x fem!reader

lia's note — okay so i randomly got the idea to make this fic at like 4am, so this is random! i need to stop staying up so late! :(

he ruts into you agonizingly slow. its almost torturous the way he's rolling his hips at an angle to hit that sweet spot inside of you he knows all to well.

you knew better. you have a boyfriend, and he should be the one fucking you into ecstasy like this, but no. its JJ maybank, it always has been. he has control over your body and he knows it. you can just tell with every confident roll of his hips.

you cant help but let out defeated whimpers, leaning up on your elbows to watch his cock slide in and out of you. he brings his thumb down to rub on your clit, his other hand holding rested beside your head to hold himself up.

"that feels good, doesn't it sweetheart?" he coos, applying more pressure to your swollen and sensitive bud, a cocky smirk plastered on his handsome face.

"yes," you moan out, laying flat on your back again, looking into his dark blue eyes that meet yours.

in one swift movement, he grabs your cheeks with one hand, pulling your face towards his. "yes what?" he stills his thrusts inside of you, waiting for your answer.

"y-yes daddy." you squeak, nervous but also aroused under his possessive gaze.

"thats my good girl," he says, pressing a kiss to your neck, his lips featherlight against your skin as he starts to rut into your sore cunt again, your breasts bouncing with every rough movement.

you start to turn to mush beneath him, your eyes fluttering shut from the immense pleasure he was causing, your legs turning to putty as they shake weakly for the umpteenth time tonight.

this doesn't go unnoticed by him, in fact he eats that shit up. he was the one making you feel this good; he was the one making your legs shake from sensitivity. not your lame ass boyfriend.

his featherlight kisses turn from soft to more firm and demanding. then to small nips and bites, leaving dark red bruises on your neck to show who you belong to. him.

"this pussy is mine, y'know that don't you mama?" he asks, already knowing your answer. you'd always agree no matter what it was, because it was him.

"its yours." you whimper, tears starting to brim in your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. they were tears of pure ecstasy. you felt like you were in heaven, you could feel his cock hitting your cervix with every deep thrust, his tip brushing against it just enough to make your eyes roll.

he can feel his head spinning with lust. he could feel you clenching around him, squeezing him so tight to the point it almost hurts. but its a good kind of pain, he likes it, and never wants it to stop.

he moves his head up from your neck to your lips, claiming your mouth in a possessive kiss, sliding his tongue inside your mouth with force.

"mine, all fucking mine." he chants, his hand comes down to your pussy, giving it a firm slap, earning a loud moan from your throat, causing your pussy to flutter around him.

"say it baby," he grunts, "say you're never letting that fucking prick around this pussy again." he says, pulling away from the kiss to breathe, his thrusts becoming rougher and more intense, all of the gentleness from before gone.

"never ever again," you cant help but throw your head back, giving him easy access to your neck once more. "this is s' much better." your chest heaves with pleasure, your orgasm ready to rip through at any moment.

"give it to me baby, let me feel it." he groans, "let me feel you milk my cock, sweetheart." he buries his face in your neck again, putting his teeth and tongue hard to work, biting and nipping at your supple flesh.

without another word, your orgasm washes through you, your legs shaking and your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. the only thing you can focus on is the intense pleasure going on, not thinking about anything else other than JJ.

he finishes not long after you, pulling out to shoot thick ropes of his cum onto your stomach and thighs, lathering them with his seed. he takes a moment to admire his work, a dazed smirk forming onto his face.

before he can say anything, your phone buzzes repeatedly, the moment interrupted. damn, you should really silence that thing.

you grab your phone to check who'd be texting this late, checking your notifications to find 15 calls and 7 texts from your boyfriend. you had totally forgotten about you guys' plans.

instead you were at jj's house getting your brains fucked out. what were you supposed to tell him?

your thoughts were interrupted by him calling again, his contact name covering the screen.

you let out a surprised noise when jj suddenly manhandles you onto your stomach, hands behind your back, you could already sense what he was about to do. you were nervous but turned on at the same time.

"answer it," he says bluntly, "I want this loser to hear how good im fucking my girl."

lia's note — once again, this was written at 4am, please naur hate !! tyyy 😚 this lowkey sucks but i need to post so here you guys go !

[writeriguess]

Having a super hard time right now so could you do a single dad kirishma or bakugo or shinsou and they’re struggling trying to juggle parenthood and being a pro then they meet y/n she’s new to their agency and she just so happens to catch their eye, just a simple receptionist but she has so many ideas. They’re so busy that they don’t even get the chance to actually meet her until one day she comes up to their office with an idea for a daycare in the agency since she’s getting so many call outs about people who don’t have child care. She offers to run/teach the daycare as well since she was a teacher back in the states before she moved and it turns out this is the key to their own problems and they slowly fall in love with her.

author's note: Hey, I just wanted to clarify something. I’ve noticed that “comfort fics” sometimes get published quickly after being requested, which might give the impression that I prioritize them. However, that’s not the case—every fic is written and published in the order it was requested.

If you requested this piece, you might have noticed that I didn’t publish it immediately after seeing it. Please know that I don’t rush requests out of order. The only time I made an exception was for an emergency request, but I now realize that was a mistake, as some people overlooked my author’s note explaining it was a one-time thing. I’m sorry for any confusion, and I appreciate your patience!

Safe in Your Hands

The constant buzzing of his phone was a persistent, grating reminder that life didn’t slow down for anyone. Not even for Katsuki Bakugo.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples as he read yet another text from the daycare. His son, Ryo, had caught a cold and needed to be picked up early—again. He wasn’t mad at the kid, never at him, but the frustration of trying to juggle being a top pro hero and a single father was wearing him thin.

His office was a mess of paperwork, mission reports, and unfinished emails. He was barely keeping his head above water, and his agency, while thriving, was in dire need of some structure. Or a miracle.

That’s when a soft knock at his door pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Come in,” he grumbled, expecting another stack of files or another meeting he didn’t have time for.

Instead, you stepped in.

“Good afternoon, Dynamight-san.”

He barely looked up at first, recognizing you as the new receptionist. You’d been here a couple of months, always polite, always handling things smoothly. He’d noticed, even if he never had the time to actually speak to you. You were a quiet force in the chaos, managing things from behind the front desk with a calm confidence.

“I, uh, hope I’m not interrupting,” you said, shifting slightly but holding your ground. “I have an idea I wanted to run by you.”

His gaze flickered up then, curiosity outweighing his exhaustion. “What kinda idea?”

You stepped forward, placing a neatly written proposal on his desk. “I’ve been getting a lot of call-outs from employees who are struggling with childcare. And I’ve noticed you’ve had to step out unexpectedly for similar reasons. I was a teacher back in the States before moving here, and I was thinking… what if we had an in-agency daycare?”

He blinked, stunned into silence for the first time in what felt like months.

“I’d be willing to help set it up, even run it,” you continued, your voice steady. “It’d give the staff some peace of mind, knowing their kids are safe while they work. And it might make things easier for you, too.”

He stared at you for a long moment, your words sinking in. No one had ever suggested something like this before. No one had ever looked at the chaos of his life and offered a solution so simple yet perfect.

“Tch,” he finally scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re serious about this?”

You nodded. “Completely.”

And just like that, something in his chest loosened.

Maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t doing this alone anymore.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Once Bakugo approved the daycare idea, you got straight to work. There were meetings to hold, rooms to convert, supplies to order, and staff to hire. Despite the long hours, you found yourself energized by the project. The employees were thrilled with the idea, and as word spread through the agency, more and more heroes began stopping by to offer assistance.

Bakugo was still a little wary, though. He wasn’t the type to trust easily, but he couldn’t deny that things were starting to feel a little less overwhelming.

One evening, as you were reviewing the final details before the daycare’s official opening, Bakugo showed up at the converted space. You looked up from your clipboard, surprised to see him standing in the doorway with Ryo in his arms. The little boy, looking sleepy and snuggled into his father’s shoulder, blinked at you drowsily.

“Figured we should do a test run,” Bakugo muttered, stepping inside. “See how the brat likes it.”

You smiled warmly. “Of course. Come on in.”

Setting Ryo down gently, Bakugo watched as the toddler hesitantly explored the room. His tiny hands ran over the soft mats, and he eyed the shelves of toys with curiosity. Slowly, he toddled toward a plush All Might figure, giving it an experimental squeeze.

You crouched down next to him. “You like that one, Ryo?”

The boy looked up at you, then at his father, before nodding shyly.

Bakugo exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Looks like it’s a hit.”

You grinned. “I think so.”

For the first time since you’d met him, you saw the tension in Bakugo’s shoulders ease slightly. Maybe this really was the answer to the problem he hadn’t been able to solve alone.

As the weeks went by, the daycare became an integral part of the agency. Parents were relieved, the kids were happy, and Bakugo—though he’d never say it outright—was grateful beyond words.

You and Bakugo started seeing more of each other, too. At first, it was just in passing—quick meetings to discuss logistics, brief encounters when he dropped Ryo off. But then, it turned into coffee breaks, conversations that stretched a little longer each day, small moments of laughter that neither of you had expected.

One evening, after a particularly long shift, Bakugo stopped by your office. You looked up, surprised to see him lingering in the doorway.

“Hey,” he said gruffly.

“Hey,” you replied, setting your pen down. “Everything okay?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah. Just… wanted to say thanks. For everything.”

A warm feeling spread through your chest. “You don’t have to thank me, Bakugo. I’m happy to help.”

His gaze softened, just a little. “Still. You’ve made shit easier for me. And for Ryo.”

You smiled. “Well, I’m glad. He’s a great kid.”

A rare smirk tugged at his lips. “Yeah, he is.”

Silence settled between you, comfortable and warm. And in that moment, you both knew—this was just the beginning.

As months passed, your presence in Bakugo’s life became more than just professional. He found himself looking forward to seeing you every day, whether it was during a hectic morning drop-off or a quiet evening chat after work. Ryo adored you, always running to you with excitement when he saw you at the daycare.

One night, after a late shift, you were locking up when Bakugo showed up with Ryo asleep in his arms. He was exhausted, but there was something softer in his expression than usual.

“Wanna grab a late dinner?” he asked, almost shyly.

You blinked in surprise before smiling. “I’d love to.”

And just like that, everything changed. The weight on Bakugo’s shoulders didn’t feel so heavy anymore. Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t carrying it alone.

[cherriegyuu]

whispers of desire | c.sc | part one

pairing: incubus seungcheol x f!reader  genre: smut, angst, fluff - minors do not interact word count: 7.3k summary: when you cut a deal with the demon king, the man who shows up to help is nothing like you imagined warnings: mentions of god, demons and religion, infertility, infidelity, knives, breeding kink, masturbation, creampie, dirty talking ish, begging, multiple orgarms, unprotected sex, piv, forced orgasm. jeonghan (idk, he deserves a warning too)

a/n: and finally after i don't even know how many months, i finished part one. i really want to thank @ssinboo who not only helped me brainstorm this, but who motivated me into picking it up again. @joonsytip and @nothoughtsjustfic who read it over and promised me that it was good. thank you so much to all three of you, this one would have never left my wips if not for you. i truly hope you enjoy this and if you do please leave comment, i would love to know you thoughts about it! it's 17 minutes past midnight, but i'm going to count this as a valentine's day special

You looked once again at the waiting room—the light gray walls, the black furniture, the small splashes of color here and there. It was mostly modern and imponent but dark. You felt out of place in your bright yellow sweater and almost white pants. You looked like an egg, but when you realized what you had done, it was too late. You were already in the Uber, getting the most incredulous look from the driver. 

The watch on your wrist seemed to mock you. You arrived too early for your appointment, too nervous to stay any longer in your apartment, too queasy to go to the nearby cafe and waste some time. 

You had been sitting on that extremely comfortable couch for 10 minutes, the pretty receptionist giving you suspicious looks followed by insincere smiles. You were so close to just getting up and walking out the door.

It had been a stupid idea. A desperate attempt at one last resort to reaching your dream. The one thing you wanted in life since you were sixteen. But it was, indeed, stupid. How was it possible that a man without a last name, who obviously wasn’t a doctor, could help you get pregnant? Even if he happened to have a magic dick, which you doubted, there was still no chance of you getting pregnant. The problem wasn’t on the sperm donor, it was in you. 

For years, you tried getting pregnant. During the first year you and your husband, now ex-husband, tried in the most natural way: fucked every chance you got, at the most random places, tracking your cycles every month. You knew that for some people getting pregnant took a little more time, so at first, you didn’t think much of it. You managed to convince yourself that the reason why you weren’t getting pregnant was because you had just gotten off birth control and sometimes — most times — the hormones messed up a little too much with the body.

After a year, something felt strange, and little red signs started to go off in your head. It wasn’t natural to take that long, at least according to everyone you knew, so you set a meeting with the doctor and did all the tests in the book. When the results came back and showed that you were infertile it was like the world came crashing down.

In life, many of your plans failed and many of your dreams were taken from you, however being a mother was one that you always carried with you. It was a dream that was yours, truly yours and you didn’t need anyone to make it happen for you. Of course, you couldn’t make a baby on your own, but in the end, it was always your choice. If you didn’t have a husband, you could go to a sperm bank and just choose someone.

Along with your dream, your marriage was also one that didn’t last long. After the initial shock of not being able to have a baby slowly started to pass and the fog that clouded your mind started to lift, you started to think of other ways you could become a mother.  Adoption seemed like a natural path. Your husband, however, didn’t agree with the idea, which led to many fights and eventually a divorce.

The idea of adoption didn't leave you, so you sought out ways to adopt on your own. While the adoption process in itself was excruciatingly difficult as a married person, by yourself was nearly impossible. You went to many people and asked for advice on how to proceed, how to present yourself, what to say and do in front of the social workers. All of them said the same thing “the chances of you getting approved for adoption are very low”.

Every day that went by, with each breath you took, you felt as if the dream of being a mother escaped you, like sand slipping through your fingers.

One day, like many others, you were searching for ways to adopt as a single parent when you came across a forum post talking about an unnamed man who could get anyone to do anything, even things that seemed impossible. You had snorted at the post and almost closed the tap when the word pregnancy seemed to flash in front of your eyes, like a moth drawn to a flame. After you saw it, there was no way you could have closed the tab and moved on to something different. 

You read post after post, comment, after comment, about all of these women who had gotten pregnant after losing all hope. All of them mentioned the same name, Jeonghan. There was no last name. On the very last post was a phone number.

There wasn't enough time to question yourself or your actions, the next thing you knew you had the phone pressed to your ear, setting up a meeting for later that day.

The fact that you were able to set an appointment on such short notice should have made alarms ring in your head. But the alarms only went off while you sat in the waiting room. 

You suddenly stood up and walked to the pretty secretary who was hiding behind the computer.

“Sorry, hi” you waited until she looked at you, and the same polite smile greeted you “Something came up, I need to leave… I'm really sorry”

As the words left your lips the door on the other side of the waiting room opened. A man with a kind smile and hair long enough to cover his forehead greeted you. Despite his smile being inviting, his eyes told an entirely different story. 

“Please, come in”

The little alarms inside your mind suddenly turned silent and the need to flee turned into the desire to follow him inside that office. 

You turned to look at the receptionist, who in return offered you an encouraging nod and smile.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I had some files that needed attention”

The man, who you could assume was Jeonghan, pulled a chair for you to sit on. He only let go of the chair once you were seated.

“It's okay”

His office was very similar in style to the waiting room, except for the leather chair and the industrial-looking desk. There was no computer, no bookshelf, no degree attached to the wall, just some creepy paintings that looked maybe a little too dark and tenebrous to an office. His desk was also empty of any files, phones, and pens. It was hard to believe that he was going over some files when there was nothing to look at.

“How can I help you today?”

For a second his eyes turned dark, entirely black, before going back to the dark brown color. Eyes of a snake, the words flashed in front of you. Your hold on the straps of your purse tightened until your knuckles turned to white.

It was a mistake going there.

It took an enormous amount of strength to push your body into a standing position.

“I'm sorry, I can't stay” you managed to force the words out, doing your best to smile and sound apologetic “Something came up”

Jeonghan leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand.

“Now, we know that's a lie” there was humor in his voice “You came here for a baby, so do us both a favor and sit down”

It was like your will to leave the room was suppressed by a hand pushing you down back on the chair. That same hand seemed to be holding you in place.

“See? That wasn't so hard”

The back of your neck started to grow cold, your hands sweaty. Your heartbeat with the force of a horse. His eyes turned into snake eyes once again. You felt your entire body grow cold. This time he flashed his eyes for a little more than a second.

“If you promise to be good, I'll stop holding you down” he raised his eyebrows at you, his tone almost bored now “Okay?”

It was a strange sight, a man who was around your age — or at least you thought so –, with soft features to have such eyes. Strange didn't even start to describe it, terrifying was a more precise word, and yet, you weren't scared. 

Perhaps you were at first, after all your initial reaction had been to escape, but while sitting there looking at him you were just curious.

“If you can stop with the eyes,” you used your index and middle finger to point at your own eyes “sure, we'll talk”

Jeonghan pouted but complied. In a millisecond the snake eyes were gone at the same time the pressure on your shoulders subsided. 

“You don't know how to have fun, do you?”

You didn’t bother to answer, you knew that no matter what you said those words wouldn’t make any difference to him and you were sure that your definition of fun was entirely different from his.

“So, a child. That's what you want, your deepest desire?” Jeonghan raised a hand to stop you from talking as if he changed his mind “Of course it is, you don’t have to say it”

It was the way he said it that made a shiver run through your spine. You shouldn’t have gone there. You should have asked someone else to go with you, though who could have been that person was unknown to you.

“Did you bait me into coming here?”

“Well, yeah” he laughed “I'm sure you saved that forum but if you go back there won't be much to see. Let's be realistic here and say that what you want, can be done”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. It wasn't a reaction to what he had said, it was to what you had believed. 

“You were so pathetically desperate that it was so easy getting to you” Jeonghan taunted you “Just one word, one post on a random website was enough to get you here and so fast too! Was it a couple of hours ago?”

Biting your bottom lip was the only possible way to keep your mouth shut, to keep the very much not polite fuck you in the silence of your mind. You tried to get up again, not really willing to sit there and be mocked, but as soon as you made the slightest movement you felt that hand again on your shoulder holding you down, this time much more forceful than the previous one.

“You said that we were going to talk, so, let’s talk”

“I want to go,” you said between your teeth “now”

Jeonghan tilted his head to the side, his snake eyes making an appearance again.

“Silly girl, you should have listed to your grandma when she warned you about what your wishes could bring” a sickening smile made its way to his face, paired with his eyes made your stomach drop all the way down to your toes “Now you can only leave when I saw so”

A sudden memory crossed your mind, one from your childhood. Of you sitting in your grandma’s lap when you couldn’t be older than seven. She said don’t wish for impossible things, you never know who or what could be listening. Your grandma was catholic, always with her rosary in her hand, or wrapper around her wrist or on her neck.

It became painfully obvious who Jeonghan was. From the snake eyes, the smile, how graceful he looked.

“Shit” the curse was almost silent.

He smiled once again, his eyes back to normal. It was all the confirmation you needed from him.

Nights had become a lonely part of the day, not that they were eventful before the divorce but at least you weren't always by yourself. 

Somehow you had allowed yourself to become one of those people who are only friends with their husband's friends so when the divorce happened it was obvious that most Of them — in this case, all of them — stayed with your ex-husband. You also hadn't really helped the situation when you closed yourself off. It had become too much, finding out that you were infertile, a possible affair from your husband, and the inevitable divorce. It was only natural for you to isolate yourself.

It seemed though that not many people seemed to understand it. Your so-called friends, who you cried with when the results came back, seemed to think that crying over was ridiculous, that one week was more than enough to move on from the entire thing, it's not like you don't have a life outside of this dream. 

And while all of that was true, it was much easier saying it than doing it. You felt as if you were spiraling down with nothing to hold onto, without anyone by your side. 

So, nights by yourself, with a bottle of wine and some takeout had become your new normal.

You were in the kitchen when you heard a faint knock on the door. Since visitors were few and you weren't expecting anyone, you assumed that it was on your neighbor. Someone probably knocking with a little more strength than necessary. It wasn't unusual. Your neighbor had loud and often drunk friends you had gotten used to their shenanigans during the three years you lived there.

All you did was keep doing the dishes, swaying your body from side to side with the music you had been playing in the background as you tried your best to forget that entire week and how you had willingly walked into a pile of shit but had no idea of how to get out of it.

The sound of the door opening made you close the faucet. A look at the clock above the door told you that there was no way for your neighbors to be back yet, not when you had heard them leave less than an hour before. You didn’t know why you thought that it could have been them. There was no doubt that the opened door was in your apartment.

You took a knife from the holder, wrapping your hand tightly around the handle. Your hand was still wet from doing the dishes so you held onto the knife as strongly as you could, until your knuckles turned white.

The one good thing about old apartments is that there were certain places that cracked and you knew exactly where those were, so you also knew how to avoid them. Whoever was in your apartment didn’t.

A small part of your brain hoped that it was your ex-husband. If it was, the worst thing that would happen was for you to look like an idiot in front of him, for the millionth time since you met him. Looking stupid was much much better than having to deal with an intruder or a murderer.

You took one last breath before pushing your bedroom door fully open.

“Don’t you dare throw that knife at me”

A man in a purple suit stood in the center of your room. His hair was bright red, pushed back. He looked like he had come out of one of those comic books your brother read as a child. He had your wedding album in his hand. He went through the pages, a pout in his lips and he scanned all the pictures, assessing what he was seeing.

“It’s not polite to hold a knife at your guest,” he said matter of factly.

“Who the fuck are you?” your grip on the handle tightened as if such a thing was even possible to begin with.

He turned the photo album to you, showing you a picture of yourself alone, smiling after throwing the bouquet at your wedding. It was a spontaneous picture, a true smile. That woman in the picture was an entirely different person. Looking at her it was hard to believe that you had been her at some point in time.

“You looked happier here” he pointed out, turning the album back to himself, still pouting “I don’t think she’d hold a knife at a guest”

“Who are you?” you demanded again, your voice louder, desperate.

The man rolled his eyes at you, finally closing the book and throwing it on your bed.

“Think about it, we both know you’re smart” he lightly raised his eyebrows at you “A little over a week ago you had a weird… dream? That’s what you made yourself think, wasn’t it?”

For a moment it was hard to pull air inside your lungs.

You thought that you had gone crazy. You clearly remembered getting out of the apartment, of going downtown in an Uber, of the waiting room, of talking to Jeonghan. But you didn’t remember walking out of the building or how you got home. You just… somehow found yourself back in your bed, in your pajamas in the middle of the night. The clock marked 3:33 AM.

“That was Jeonghan’s fault so I won’t hold it over your head too much. He likes to play tricks like that”

He sat on your bed, arms stretched back, thighs parted. A cocky smile on his lips and you could swear that your legs melted a little when you noticed that he had nothing under the suit jacket.

“Who are you?” you asked again, this time your voice wasn’t as loud or as demanding.

The man raised his eyebrows again and you could swear that it did something to you, tickling a place you didn’t know it needed to be tickled. He moved his chin lightly as if pointing to the knife. You sighed and put the knife down, holding it closer to your body. But that wasn't enough for the man, he pointed at the dresser. You rolled your eyes but did as asked. You didn't dare to get closer to him though. You simply crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against it. 

"I'm Seungcheol," the man said, only when he was sure that there was no chance of you stabbing him "Choi Seungcheol"

"I didn't know demons had last names"

His pout was still in place, as he seemed to be thinking of what to say next.

"We're civil enough, though me coming in without your permission might not be the best proof of character" he was quick to add when you opened your mouth to object. 

It didn't matter how much you tried, nothing came to mind when you thought about your conversation with Jeonghan. All of it was a big blank. You remembered getting there, him scaring you, the realization of who he was but nothing after that.

“The word you’re looking for is demon king,” he said. 

His eyes seemed to assess you, each and every movement you made. Seungcheol’s eyes never left you, not even for a second. When you moved to the chair on the opposite side of the room he followed you, adjusting his own body he would be seated directly in front of you. 

If your memory served you right, which at that point you had no idea, Jeonghan seemed to know what you were thinking. You were inclined to think that he couldn’t actually read your thoughts because according to Seungcheol, again if you could take his words for anything, demons too were civil and would just be way too invasive, but he was awfully good at knowing exactly what you were thinking. But then again, Jeonghan seemed to know way too much in the first meeting. Were the files he was looking at something like your life’s history? Where you were born, about your parents, your first boyfriend, your college crush, your husband, and everything that happened after?

You did your best not to focus too much on the demon king thing. If you did, your mind would take you somewhere else entirely and you weren’t sure if you could go there at that moment. Actually, you were sure you shouldn’t, especially because if you did the man in front of you, or a demon, would probably laugh. And being laughed at wasn’t something you were ready for at the moment.

“Okay,” you said slowly, exhaling all the air in your lungs all at once “Jeonghan is the demon king”

Seungcheol nodded, a small smile on his lips as he was proud of a child who had just given a correct answer. 

“That makes you…?”

“An incubus”

You closed your eyes for a second, folding your legs in front of you. Incubus… the demon who would sleep with women in their sleep and get them pregnant, and these women birthed demon-like children. 

Fantastic.

“So, magic dick,” you said, half not believing what you were saying, on how easily it seemed for you to understand it all “Great” 

That seemed to pull out an honest laugh out of Seungcheol, to the point a dimple made its way into his cheek. You couldn't help but smile along with him. 

“Something along those lines, yes”

He stood up, his eyes no longer filled with laughter and amusement. They had turned darker, hungry even. At that very second you felt like a prey under his eyes. You bit your bottom lip and he got closer to you, his eyes focused on your lips as he moved deliberately slowly to get to you. It seemed that your room was much, much, bigger than it actually was, almost like there was an entire runaway between him and you. 

You stood up as well, though that was probably a bad idea, considering how wobbly your legs felt. 

Seungcheol smiled, not in the cute and almost condescending way of before, but in a way that was much darker and held so many promises at the same time. He took your hand, pulled you towards the center of the room, walking backward.

“So, this is it? No flirting, no nice words, no dinner. Just straight-up sex” 

You hoped that your tone was light, teasing. Though there was nothing light about the way you were feeling. The few inches of your skin that were under his touch felt like were on fire. 

It had been a long time since you were with anyone, your husband was the last one a year and a half before. That wasn't to say that you hadn't found any sort of pleasure, but it had always been by yourself.

You couldn't help but wonder if part of the heat on your skin came from the lack of contact or if it was because of him. Something told you that it was a mix of both. 

“Well, you had dinner before I even got here and I thought you holding a knife was flirting”

Seungcheol circled you. The hand that held Yours suddenly pressed on your stomach, holding you against his firm chest. He pressed his nose to the crook of your neck. Giving him more access to your skin felt almost natural.

You felt his lips on the back of your neck. It started as a chaste kiss, followed by the burn of his teeth sinking into your skin and then soothed by his tongue flat over the space he had just bitten. 

“Are you a vampire?” you hoped your voice sounded steady but even to your ears it was breathy, close to a moan. The thing… the man… had barely touched you and you were ready to just melt under him. 

Seungcheol’s chest vibrated against your back and he leaned into your neck once again, now biting the other side. 

“Never met one of those, but if you want, I can become one for the night”

It suddenly crossed your mind “would he do anything I ask?” but you didn’t have it in you to ask. More than that, you didn’t know what to ask. You wanted too much but at the same time, you weren't sure where to begin. 

Slowly, Seungcheol ran his hand down your body. You felt your core tighten at the proximity, wetness slowly damping your panties. You were in a haze, one you didn’t want to come out of. 

“Tell me what you want. Whatever you want, however, you want it. It’s all yours”

It was like he had somehow heard your thoughts. Was that also part of his abilities? Magic dick and mind reading? Seemed like good powers to have. 

He nuzzled your neck again, this time placing kisses all over your skin as he slid down the strap of your shirt and continued his discovery of your skin. But your shoulder was not the place you wanted to feel him the most, it was not the spot that was craving for attention. 

Seungcheol ran his nose over your shoulder, the curve of your neck, up to your ear. 

“Ah, not so sweet and innocent after all” the hot breath over your skin made your entire body flame up. 

Finally, he lowered his hand, going under the elastic band of your shorts. He roughly rubbed his palm over your covered clit as his other hand went up to your breast, tugging at the hard nipple.

“You’re this wet and we barely even started?” he nibbled on your ear “You were all brave with that knife but all you can think about now is my magic dick filling you over and over and over again. Right, sweetheart?”

He pushed your panties to the side, his finger finally rubbing over your sensitive clit. A whimper left your lips as he was exactly where you needed, but it was far from enough. 

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you”

He circulated your slit with two fingers. Once, twice, three times. 

“Please” you whispered. 

You felt his smile at the same time he pushed his fingers into you, your arousal more than enough to suck him in. You sucked in a moan as he picked up speed with his fingers, then another when his palm pressed over your clit adding another layer of pleasure. 

“Make that pretty noise for me again, sweetheart,” he asked, his voice low, though commanding “Let me hear you”

You tried your best to stay quiet, to not make any sound, and let the only sound in the room be the almost obnoxious noise of his fingers slipping in and out of you. But when Seungcheol found that one spot, that tiny piece of skin that made your mind almost go blank it was impossible to be silent. 

The sound coming out of you was pathetic, each new moan getting louder as you felt your abdomen cramp. The louder you got, the faster he moved his fingers. He didn’t stop pumping his fingers, didn’t stop pressing his palm on your clit, until the tide finally broke loose. 

You tried to shut your legs, suddenly the stimulation was too much at once, but Seungcheol was willing to let that happen. He kicked your feet apart, using his own knees to keep yours proudly open. 

Your orgasm hit you harder than ever before, your body convulsing in his grip, shaking as each new wave of pleasure hit you, somehow stronger than before. Seungcheol held you together until your body calmed down. A moan that could have been easily mistaken for a sob, came out of your lips, a light tremor in your legs, though you were certain that it was no longer visible. 

Seungcheol slowly guided your body towards the bed, both of his hands on your hips, steadying you. He sat you down on the bed and took a couple of steps back. He didn’t say anything as he opened the button on his suit and pulled it off his shoulder, tossing it aside on the chair to his left. 

He was teasing you, that much was obvious. Under normal circumstances you’d have looked away but as he unbuttoned his pants you couldn’t force yourself to look away. Your mind was in a trance by him, he had your undivided attention and he loved it. 

His movements were deliberately slow, a cocky grin making its way to his face as he noticed your eyes following the movements of his hands. 

The only piece of clothing covering Seungcheol was his underwear, though it did very little to disguise his erection. Your mouth watered at the sight, a nagging feeling on the back of your mind telling you to get down on your knees in front of him and take all of him into your mouth - or at least as much as it could fit anyway. 

Seungcheol laughed as he finally pushed the last piece of cotton off. You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning at the sight of him on full display. Every inch of his devilish body, in full glory, was mesmerizing. You felt you pussy clench around nothing as Seungcheol started to pump his dick. 

“We’ll have enough time to play later tonight,” he moved closer to you, standing in between your legs, his cock was close to you face that you simply inch forward and have him like you wanted, he had different ideas though “but right now I want to know what it feels like to be buried deep inside that sweet, sweet, pussy”

You reached down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. It was only when you reached for the elastic band of your shorts that you felt the embarrassment creeping up every inch of your body. 

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t hide yourself from me”

He lightly pushed you onto the bed, his knee pressing against your center and he scooped you up on the bed. He grabbed you by the hips and flipped you so that your face was pressed into the mattress. 

He pushed your shorts down, though not boring to take them off all the way down. Seungcheol straddled your legs and he teased your pussy with the tip of his cock. Running it over the slick entrance but never fully pushing it inside. 

You tried to change the position in a way to force him to just sink in but he was having none of that. He gripped your head by your hair, pulling it back until your ass up in the air, your back arched in a way that should be painful but somehow all it did was heighten your pleasure. 

“Beg” he whispered against your ear, his voice deliciously low.

“What?” you breathed out as he continued to tease you, your body moving along with his, a new whimper escaping every time he almost pushed inside. 

“I’m not going to make it that easy for you” he laughed “You wanna be fucked? I’ll fuck in ways you can’t even imagine. But you’re going to have to beg”

In any other situation, in any other moment of your life, you’d have felt embarrassed by his demand, to some extent would even have felt angry towards it. But right in that second, with the promise of what was to come, saying a few words sounded like a fair price to pray. 

“Please, please, Seungcheol” you begged, voice dripping with need and honey as you moved your hips wanting nothing more than to just be filled “just fuck me, fill me up. All of me is yours…” for the night.

He didn’t let you finish, pushing his cock into your throbbing pussy. There was no time to adjust. Seungcheol drove his dick into you again and again, each thrust harder than the previous one. He pulled your arms back, holding them against his chest with his own. 

Each sound that left your mouth was increasingly louder but you didn’t care in the slightest. Seungcheol’s grunts behind you, the slapping of his skin against yours every time he drove into you was intoxicating.

“Oh my god” you chanted over and over again

“No, no, not god” he laughed, biting the soft skin of your shoulder “He can't help you now”

He snaked a hand around your waist directly to your clit, massaging it in slow circles, in high contrast to his dick. The pressure was just perfect, his pace never faulting. 

An orgasm hit you yet again, without notice, this time not as hard as the first one, but still enough to have you shaking to the core. Seungcheol held you even tighter, his pace relentless as he searched for his own high. 

You felt his warm cum splurged into you, too much of it. 

Your body felt limp on the bed, all energy drained out of you, not a single drop left. You turned, looking at the ceiling, trying to steady your breathing, waiting for the tremors to pass when you felt Seungcheol his hand over your thigh. 

He pushed your shorts and panties all the way down, tossing them on the floor with a mute sound. He spread your legs and smiled proudly, seemingly happy with his work. It only lasted a second though, as a frown took over his features. 

“You’re wasting it, sweetheart” he tsked “We can’t have that, now can we?”

You felt his hand on your sensitive cunt and tried to flinch away but he didn't bulge. His finger grazed over your clit before he pushed them into you. You held his wrist, trying to push his hand away. 

“No, it’s too much” you shook your head, pleading “Please, I can’t, please”

He laughed at your words, pinning the hand that held his wrist over your head. Seungcheol kissed your breast, taking the nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and blowing on it a second later, all while he pumped his fingers in your pussy, pushing back inside all the cum that had dripped out. 

“You can” you bit your lower lip and tugged at it “and, most importantly, we both know you want it”

You could only shake your head as the pleasure became too much, almost unbearable. Almost. You felt yet another orgasm build up again, like your entire body was throbbing, closing itself tightly before it finally broke free.

Seungcheol swallowed your scream, kissing your lips, neck, and shoulders as your body spasmed. Your quiet whimpers were the only sound in the room. He only pulled his fingers out of you when you calmed down completely.

“That’s it” he kissed your cheek, letting go of your hands and using them to hold his head so he could look down at you “See, I told you you could it”

Out of the possible outcomes of the previous night waking up to a mop of red hair on the other side of the bed wasn’t one of them. You were certain that when you woke up you’d realize that the night had been a dream — the most real one you had ever had in your life but that was beside the point. 

Just for good measure, you pressed your index finger to the shoulder of the man. Warm and soft skin was under your finger.

Okay, not a dream then.

You turned on your back, facing the ceiling of your bedroom. The night played vividly in your mind. The way Seungcheol pressed the first kiss to the back of your neck and how that alone was enough to make you go crazy under his touch. Not only that, how you were so willing to completely let yourself go to him, how every time he whispered in your ear, chills ran down your entire body and you could feel him everywhere.

You couldn’t help but wonder if all of your emotions had been heightened because he was…. him. A demon. Or if you were just so touch-starved that the smallest caress was enough to drive you over the edge.

Most of all, you couldn’t look past all how you had been so incredibly reckless. A random man who looked like he had gotten out of some comic book suddenly showed up in your room — mind you without using the door — and you somehow, for whatever reason, thought that it was a good idea to have sex with him. And then, as if all of that wasn’t enough, you still fell asleep by his side like it was the most normal thing in the world like he was someone you could trust entirely.

You covered your eyes with your arm, a groan leaving your lips.

There was still the whole “deal with the demon king” part that you were yet to think about.

It seemed unfair that you couldn’t remember what you agreed on. You should have the chance to prepare for whatever was to come, didn’t you? The demon king, or Jeonghan, you weren’t sure how you should address him, was well… unfair.

“Are you usually this loud so early in the morning?”

Your entire body jumped on the bed and a scream died in your throat. For a couple of minutes, you had been so lost in your mind that you forgot that Seungcheol was by your side at all.

His voice in the early morning, just after waking up, was almost made out of honey, velvety, tingling in your ears. By your side, Seungcheol had turned to you, his eyes barely open, his full lips pulled almost in a pout, a few strands of hair covering his face. You had to grip the sheets closer to your body just so you could suppress the desire to move them aside.

Your eyes moved slightly down, to his half-exposed chest. Another flash of the night before crossed your mind, of him over you, the way the chain around his neck hung just over your nose, how you used it to pull him to you again.

“You look cute when you blush,” he said with a lazy smile on his lips. You felt your cheeks warm but didn’t think it was enough to cause any visible change. 

Seungcheol folded his arm, holding his head up. The sleepy smile he gave you was the most delicious thing you had ever seen, it was enough to take your breath away all over again. You were happy that you were still in bed, otherwise there was a chance that your legs might have given in under you.

“I didn’t think you’d stay” was all you said as you swung your feet out of the bed, looking for the pajamas that were lost somewhere on the floor.

It was on the other side of the room, how it had ended up there was beyond you. You gripped the sheet closer around your body but you were only able to move one step away from the bed before you felt it being pulled back.

“You know, I already saw everything there’s under those sheets” you didn’t turn to him but you could hear the smile in his voice “In fact, I did a lot more than just look at it”

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You were certain that if you forced the sheets out of his grip, Seungcheol would have let go of it but if he did such a thing then he would be the one exposed, and while you were sure that he had no problem with the idea, everything you screamed that if you saw him naked again there was no way that you would just have a redo of the night before.

Letting go of the sheets, you walked to the other side of the room, opening the dresser drawer and pulling out a clean pair of panties and bra.

“I’m going to shower and by the time I finish it I want you gone”

Seungcheol’s laughter still echoed through the apartment when you closed the bathroom door.

You had managed to keep yourself busy enough during the weekend that you had almost forgotten about Friday night. The keyword being almost. Usually, you would have come up with an excuse to not help your sister during the weekend. She was a wedding planner, a very good one at that — she had been the one to plan your wedding — and highly sought out so it was easier to find her working than being at home.

The reason why you always declined was that weddings, while they could be wildly different from one another, there were things that were the same, didn’t who was at the isle. Two people were promising each other eternal love.

When you saw those people, standing in front of each other, eyes filled with love and hope, you couldn’t help but think about Joshua. How you had once been in that exact spot, saying similar words, how you had been happy with him for so many years until all of it came crashing down on you. The only thing that love left behind were scars that were still all too fresh but hidden enough that no one would ever see them.

Still, working during the weekend with your sister was better than staying at home and thinking about all the stupid decisions you made and how much you’d love to make at least one of them once again. She was also kind enough to let you work on the setup and then later back in the kitchen. Maybe she had some sort of sixth sense that said that you need to get out of your mind. Her call was at the right moment.

Even so, there were moments when you were on your own, in the darkness of your bedroom, when Seungcheol’s perfume somehow still lingered in the air. There was no escape then. It was like a replay of that night played in your head again and again, and everytime it it did there was a new detail that you had somehow forgotten.

It was both a blessing and a curse.

You ran your hand over your face and hair, urging your mind to just stop and let yourself fall asleep. You had a meeting early in the morning and you needed your sleep, just so you could function like a semi-normal human being.

You were in the kitchen when you heard a sound in your bedroom. Your heart skipped a beat, hoping that maybe… just maybe… You shook your head in an attempt to come back to reality. The chance of seeing Seungcheol once again was below zero. You heard the sound again and this time your heart wasn’t the only thing doing a weird flip inside your chest, you also felt chills run down your skin.

The third time the sound came you felt as if you were under a cold shower when it was followed by the sound of laughter in the hallway that belonged to your neighbor. 

It was hard swallowing the expectation that had somehow found its way into you. You weren’t even sure why you were expecting something in the first place. After that night it was clear that there wasn’t going to be a second one. Not that there was any conversation on the matter, it just seemed like the most natural option. 

If things had gone according to plan, and if your mind was worthy of any trust, apparently it did, there was no real reason why you should ever see Seungcheol again. And yet, there you were wishing that he’d just show up again, and for what? 

You set the glass of water down, wishing you could have something strong – God knew that if you wanted to sleep you’d need some help – but not wanting to risk anything. Shutting down the lights in the kitchen and living room.

Before you even opened the door to your room you felt this shift in the air. You pushed it open, hard enough that it smashed against the wall. 

“You must really love your kitchen, the second time I show up here and the second time you're in the kitchen”

You closed your eyes for a second, basking in the sound of his voice, how it made chills erupt in your skin. 

“Second time you don’t use the door”

“I’ll be sure to remember that”

Seungcheol smiled, hands in his pocket. 

“You better”

Before you gave yourself a chance to think about it, you crossed the room in two strides and pulled him to you. Seungcheol smiled against your lips before he finally kissed you. 

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog and leave a comment, it really does mean the world to me and i would love to know your thoughts. thank you! 💕

you can read my other fics here ➝ masterlist

[stevesgother]

emmmm!!!!!!!! in honour of valentines day, I humbly and urgently request reader and steve getting ready for a date together, but steve can't keep his hands off of them 🤭 all the kissy touchy undressy pls! <3333333333333

CHLOE UGH i love this

anything for u my darling

18+ under the cut

You never needed to beg or plead for the bare minimum from your boyfriend like you had with lovers in the past.

Steve loved Valentine's Day. It was the one day a year where he could well and truly spoil you without you bashfully insisting that he 'really didn't have to'. If it were up to him, he'd bring you home a new gold pendant and a bouquet of a dozen red roses every night when he got home from work-- but he spared you for the fear of being "too much". He'd never had a partner that appreciated him so much as you did.

Standing in front of your shared bathroom's mirror, you were attempting to apply your lipstick. Your dinner reservation was in a mere thirty minutes, and your boyfriend was absolutely insatiable.

"Steve, I can't put this one when you're moving me," you groaned.

"Can't help it, baby-- you just look so damn good," his words are muffled as he shoves his face further into the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. You can feel his erection pressing incessantly into your backside as you bent slightly over the counter to get a closer look at your lips.

He'd been like this since the moment you put on that dress-- the dress that he bought for you to wear, no less. He'd presented it to you in a neatly wrapped gift box with a bow on top.

'We have a reservation at Enzo's for seven, picked you up something pretty to wear, too.'

He just hadn't anticipated you looking so fucking sexy in it. He thinks it might even be borderline obscene. Especially with that dainty little 'S' charm hanging in the valley between your breasts.

He was pressing hot, wet kisses to the vein that ran along the side of your neck; one he was well acquainted with.

"Baby, we're gonna be late,"

"I'll drive fast," he breathes.

"Steve--"

"I need you, honey, I'm not gonna be able to make it through dinner," he chuckles, his deft fingers move under the hem of your dress and he pulls at it before letting it snap back into place on your thighs, "jus' wanna take you right here over this counter."

You can't help the whimpery moan that his words elicit from you, and you know immediately that that's what breaks him.

His hand moves to cup your heat over the lace panties you had worn with the notion that he's be ripping them off of you later-- and despite how'd you been trying to play it cool, the wetness pooling there betrays you.

"So wet f'me, baby," his free hand grips you by the jaw and maneuvers you to face him. He kisses you with an urgency you don't have the privilege of experiencing very often. Steve's always been a fantastic kisser, but you love it when he kisses you like it's the last time he'll ever get to. It's passionate and deep; his tongue delving past your lips to dance with your own.

At some point in the last minute or two he had pulled your underwear to the side; seemingly too impatient to take them all the way off. The tips of his index and middle fingers circle your puffy clit, causing a whine to slip past your lips.

He's trying to get you ready for him, always the gentleman, but you can tell he's extra needy tonight. You push the plush of you ass back against his hardness and he all but growls into your ear.

You hear the clinking of him hurriedly unbuckling his belt, and before you know it, the blushing red head if his cock is sliding through your wet folds collecting the wetness there.

"Oh--Steve," you drawl.

"I need you, baby-- is this okay?"

"Yes Steve, please,"

There's no easing into it like there usually is. All at once you feel the entirety of his length sheathed into you and it takes every ounce of strength in your body not to cry out at the sensation. He's taking your face in the hand that doesn't have a death grip on the fat of your hip and forcing you to face the mirror again.

"Want you to look at yourself while I fuck you, such a little slut f'me, huh?"

The hand on your face makes it's way around to grab a fist full of your hair, keeping your head up despite the urge to let your head fall. Your tits bounce with the force of his hips plowing into you, and you know you'll be sore in the morning.

"Touch yourself, baby-- I'm close,"

You do as you're told, moving your hand south to play with your bundle of nerves where your underwear's been hastily pushed to the side. The pressure of the head of Steve's cock hitting that spongey spot deep inside you combined with the added sensation on your clit has the knot in your lower belly tightening.

"Steve!" You cry out. The thought of your upstairs neighbors briefly crosses your mind, but not enough for you to quiet your chants of his name.

"You gonna come? I can feel you, baby, let go. I've got you," he wraps a toned arm around your waist to pull you flush to him. This was his favorite way to finish-- every inch of your body in contact with every inch of his. Steve may be the more domineering partner in your relationship, but he'll forever be a sap at heart. Especially for you.

"Gonna come-- Steve! Inside me please, want you to finish inside,"

"H-oh fuck-- baby--"

You feel him tense inside you seconds before you're flooded with the warmth of him filling you to the brim. Logically, you both know you're on birth control, but even the idea of Steve knocking you up makes him finish almost instantly. Every single time. It's like his kryptonite.

He rides out his high with a few more harsh thrusts before he's pulling out and moving your underwear back in place.

"Wait-- I need to clean up," you start but he interrupts as he's buckling his belt.

"You're gonna go to dinner like that, and then when we get home later, I'm gonna fuck it back into you. That sound good?"

You're left speechless at how casually he says it. Leave it to Steve to work you up like this, and then act like he didn't just rock your world.

"Uh huh," you respond, a little dumbly.

"Good." He smiles so earnestly it makes you melt a little, "Jesus, baby, your lipsticks a mess. Better fix it while I start the car, yeah?"

You laugh, swatting his chest, but he just bends at the waist to give you a smacking kiss to your sweaty cheek as if he isn't the sole reason you look so disheveled.

"Steven!"

"Love you!" He calls over his shoulder as he runs from you.

Maybe Valentine's Day wasn't so bad when you had him.

[muqingslover]

[ Caleb canonically doing MC's laundry has set something off in my brain so here I am. Also, happy Valentine's day ! here's a longer one as a treat from me ;) I've been posting kinda of non-stop haha ] if you saw me post this before no you didn't

This has happened before. In fact, it had happened a few too many times for his sanity's sake. Whenever Caleb offered to do your laundry to be helpful he always had to deal with the strain in his pants that he pretended wasn't there by covering his lap with a magazine and thinking about literally anything else besides that tantalizing piece of fabric. He's been a good man, or at least he's always tried to be one for you. But was it really his fault if the situation was presented to him with a quite literally adorable little red bow?

Still, he has an admiring amount of self-restraint and for days he told himself he should give them back to you. Every time you two met he kept waiting for the moment to return it, clutching the fabric in his pocket, but all he received were reasons not to. Or perhaps, he just saw what he wanted to see. That's how a week turned into months and then the tortuous years without contact that drove him to the brink of insanity. Fighting back the urge to find you again and do everything his mind has fantasized about countless times was one of the hardest battles he ever faced, and that was saying something.

"Fuck..." He exhaled shakily. His head hit the wall behind him and he spread his legs further on the chair of his private quarters, keeping a firm hand wrapped around the base of his cock. It started after he found the old pair of panties that he had so carefully stored away and now all his mind had to offer were twisted fantasies. Caleb was in biiig trouble— He had to leave in less than fifteen minutes for a meeting and there were security officers constantly passing by his door, but he was past the stage that a simple cold shower and mental math equations would make the issue go away. The images of how the fabric would've adorned your curves in all the right places were soon followed by the memories of how sometimes he'd get a sneak peek when you bent over in front of him and gods that was the sexiest thing he's ever seen.

His metallic hand clutched the delicate fabric tighter as he trapped the lace between his teeth to force down another low groan when his palm began moving up and down again and the faint smell of your soap made his mind feel fuzzy. He was so sensitive that it ached to be touched— He was sure if this was your hand he'd have come on the spot the second your fingers brushed against him. Hell, if you breathed a bit too closely to his cock he'd fall apart like the pathetic man he is and he can only picture how your beautiful face would look covered with his cum. Can you blame him though? He's never even considered doing this with anyone else, nor will he ever do that, and his busy military life didn't leave much space for his own...moments.

He released the lace from his teeth and pressed the red fabric against his swollen tip, accidentally letting out a strained moan that was a bit too loud as his eyes rolled back into his head. He decided to quickly shut himself up by pushing his dog tag into his mouth to bite down on the metal, otherwise everyone outside his room would know just what the colonel was doing. Caleb imagined that the wet line his precum had made was because of your arousal for him instead. The way it would seep through the thin fabric and mark your pussy for him in such a filthy way. The way he'd lick along the damp spot and enjoy each and every sound that he'd surely drag out of your throat while he had your thighs around his head.

His hips jerked as he thrusted himself into his hand, into your panties, into you. The room filled with his barely contained ragged breathing as he hoped your pussy would be as much of a slippery mess as his cock was right now when he pushed past your slit, stretching you open so good yet so agonizingly slow. His grasp around his length was tight when the friction of the thin fabric against his dripping cock sent him over the edge and he came so hard his body twitched non-stop. His dog tag slipped from his lips, dangling around his neck again as he slumped back against the chair after his strength left his body momentarily.

His eyes landed on the red panties that were now coated in his thick, white cum and Caleb raised his hand to bring the messy cloth to his lips. He pushed his tongue out and licked along right at the middle where your soaked cunt would be, tasting his own release and wishing it was yours. It was a shame he had gotten such a pretty and precious thing dirty but, not to worry, he's always been good at cleaning up.

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Team Building

Kwon Soonyoung x Reader

Word Count: 7,352

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff, some crack.

Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI!

Summary: When Y/N and her annoying coworker Soonyoung are forced to share a hotel room during a business trip, tensions are high.

Content Warnings: Mentioned alcohol but everybody is sober during the smut, unprotected sex, oral (f recieving), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, creampie, soft dom!Hoshi, fingering in the break room, situationship, angst with a happy ending, this man is an idiot I'm sorry. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know!

A/N: This fic is part of the Secret Cupid event hosted by the incredible @ddeonghwa-s! This particular fic was written for Bambi, aka @soongyeopsal. I hope you like it!

If y'all want to read the other fics that were written for this event, the masterlist can be found here!

Happy reading, and happy Valentine's Day!

Taglist: @xomakara, @notyourjaem, @heechwe, @shadowkoo

Fic is under the cut.

Kwon Soonyoung was the bane of your existence. He had his charming moments, sure, and he always performed well at work, but he was also arrogant, loud, and just plain rude, especially to you. Every conversation that the two of you had, even if you were only talking to him because you needed to get work done, left you even more irritated with him than you were before. His answers were brief, his tone was sarcastic, and his lack of interest was evident in every word. However, you figured that you could deal with an annoying coworker. After all, you loved your job, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to find something in your field that paid as well as your position at Carat Interactive.

As annoying as Soonyoung was, however, you also had to admit that he was incredibly attractive, despite his tendency to act like a douchebag whenever you had the displeasure of speaking to him. His eyes were a warm shade of brown that made you melt every time you looked into them, his smile gave you butterflies every time you saw it, and his lips looked so kissable. You almost wanted to put aside your hatred to find out just how good of a kisser he was. Almost.

If Soonyoung was being completely honest with himself, he wasn’t particularly fond of you either. He thought that you were far too pretentious and far too serious for your own good. Despite all of that, though, he still couldn’t help but think that you were absolutely beautiful. Every time he saw you in the office, he couldn’t help but stare, and he hated himself for it. That didn’t stop him from doing it, though.

One day, when your annoyance with Soonyoung was at an all-time high, Seungcheol, your boss, called a team meeting. It took longer than you wanted to admit for you to find the room, but eventually, you did. Then, when you walked through the door, the only empty seat in the boardroom was right next to Soonyoung, because of course it was. You really didn’t want to sit next to him, but your desire to avoid disrupting the meeting even more than you already had won out in the end. So, you quietly took a seat and prayed that Soonyoung would not speak to you. Of course, because the gods hated you, the moment he saw you, he asked, “You couldn’t find anywhere else to sit?”

“Look around. Do you see any other open spots?”

Seungcheol cleared his throat and asked, “(Y/N). Soonyoung. Is there a problem?”

“No, there isn’t,” you answered, “Apologies for the disruption.”

“Thank you. Now, onto the reason that I called this meeting,” Seungcheol began. “I’ve noticed several issues when it comes to cooperation and respect on this team. So, I have to ask. How are we going to get anything done if no one can work together?”

“Maybe if you didn’t hire pretentious idiots that don’t know what they’re doing, things would be easier,” Soonyoung muttered.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Soonyoung. With that attitude, we’re never going to get anything done. That’s why, as manager, I’ve decided to organize a team retreat. Hopefully, some team building exercises in a fun new location will help you all see the importance of working together.”

You wanted to complain, citing upcoming deadlines and your concerns about the nature of the “team building exercises” that Seungcheol mentioned, but you knew better than to argue with your boss, especially when he was angry.

“Does anyone have any questions?”

Seokmin was the first to speak up, asking, “Will we be paid for attending this retreat?”

“Yes,” Seungcheol answered.

“How long will the retreat last?” someone else asked.

“We’ll be gone for a week. Please make any arrangements that need to be made for pet care or childcare by Saturday, since we’re leaving next Sunday,” your boss replied. “Are there any other questions?” The room fell silent, so Seungcheol added, “Very well. If something comes up, and you do need to speak to me about the retreat, just come and find me in my office. This meeting is adjourned; thank you for your time.”

With the surprise meeting officially over, everyone left the room in hopes of finishing their assigned tasks before clocking out for the day. As you sat down at your desk, however, you heard an irritatingly familiar voice ask, “So, are you looking forward to the retreat?”

“Not even a little,” you replied, not even looking up from your work. “Are you?”

“Oh, totally,” Soonyoung said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “What could be better than being stuck with ‘Cheol and his ‘team building exercises’ for an entire week? It’s gonna be the highlight of my year.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little bit at Soonyoung’s comment before you said, “Oh, you’re so right. I can’t believe I didn’t even consider the excitement of spending a week locked in a room with our entire team doing trust falls and talking about our feelings!”

After a brief silence, Soonyoung said, “Damn, (Y/N), I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean, you never make jokes at work. I kind of thought you didn’t know how to make jokes at all.”

“Well, I do. I also know how to be serious when it’s necessary, like when I’m at work.”

“You really need to loosen up sometimes,” Soonyoung commented, his growing frustration evident in his voice.

“I do loosen up, just not here.”

Soonyoung huffed and walked away, seemingly bored of talking to you. You wanted to tell yourself that you didn’t care about his indifference, but you found that a small part of you was disappointed that he’d walked away. Sure, he drove you insane, but you also missed his little comments when he wasn’t around. However, you knew that if you told him that, you’d never hear the end of it. So, you kept your confusing feelings to yourself.

The rest of the week passed with only a few minor arguments with Soonyoung, and before you knew it, you were driving to the hotel where you were supposed to be staying for the retreat. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t dreading the retreat as much as you did when you first found out about it. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to be stuck in a hotel with your coworkers for an extended period of time in an unfamiliar area, but you still wanted to be optimistic. After all, you were getting paid to be there, which meant that you basically had a week off from your actual job while still bringing in money. Plus, a small part of you hoped to meet an attractive guy to hook up with in your free time.

Your optimism was snuffed out like a flame when you got to the hotel. Due to a scheduling error, despite both of your requests to the contrary, you would be sharing a room with Soonyoung. You tried to talk to Seungcheol about the error, but he told you that there was nothing that he could do. So, while you weren’t happy about it, you decided that you would try to make the best of a bad situation.

When you got to your room, you found Soonyoung sitting on one of the beds and scrolling on his phone. Without even looking up at you, he said, “Before you say anything, just know that I’m not happy about this either.”

“I wasn’t planning on saying anything,” you retorted. “I just wanted to sit in the room. Is that ok with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one that gets mad at me every time we talk.”

“No, I don’t. I just get tired of your pretentious fucking attitude.”

“I’m not pretentious; I just don’t screw around at work. You might wanna take some notes.”

“Why, so I can be the most boring person in the office? I’ll pass.”

“Fuck this, I’m going out.”

“Bye!”

After you left the room, you wandered around for what felt like hours before you found your friends Wonwoo and Mingyu at the hotel’s bar. When they saw you, they cheered and invited you over with smiles on their faces and drinks in their hands. Once Wonwoo noticed the look of irritation on your face, however, his smile was replaced with a look of concern as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sharing a room with Soonyoung,” you spat.

“Are you serious?” Mingyu asked. “I thought you specifically asked to share with anyone but him.”

“I did. Seungcheol said there was an error when the trip was booked, and there’s nothing he can do. Which means I have to deal with him for a week, with no breaks.”

“I mean, this is a break, isn’t it?” Wonwoo asked.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you replied.

As if on cue, you heard a voice behind you say, “Wonwoo! Mingyu! How are you guys?”

“Hi, Soonyoung!” Mingyu said, a mischievous smile forming on his face. “Wonwoo and I were just leaving to get some rest. (Y/N) just got here, though. You two should hang out!”

You gave Mingyu a death glare, and Soonyoung said, “That’s ok. I don’t think she wants to hang out with me.” If you didn’t know any better, you would have said that he sounded sad as he said it. That wouldn’t make any sense, though. Soonyoung hated you. Why would he be upset that you didn’t want to hang out with him?

You brushed off the thought and opened your mouth to speak, but before you could get the words out, Mingyu smiled again and said, “That’s not true! She’d love to spend some time with you. Isn’t that right, (Y/N)?”

In that moment, you felt like you couldn’t say no. So, you gritted your teeth and said, “That’s right. I don’t mind,” turning around to see Soonyoung’s face change from one of disappointment to one of what you could really only describe as excitement.

“Really? It’s ok if-”

“Really, Soonyoung,” you said, softening when you saw the change in his demeanor. “Why don’t you find us a spot to sit, and I’ll order some drinks.” He nodded and left to find a table, and you turned back to your friend and asked, “What the fuck was that?”

“Trust me, (Y/N),” Mingyu said. “I’ve known Soonyoung since high school. He’s an idiot, but he’s not an asshole. He just acts all weird with you because he likes you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Watch how he acts after we leave. Then, when the two of you inevitably get drunk and hook up tonight, you can fall asleep afterward with the satisfaction that I was right.”

You rolled your eyes and said, “Sure, whatever. Bye.”

Mingyu and Wonwoo left, and you decided to order some sodas for you and Soonyoung. After all, you didn’t know what kind of alcohol he liked, and you really didn’t want to get drunk around him.

When you got back to the table with two glasses of cola in hand, Soonyoung smiled and said, “Thanks!”

“No problem. I didn’t know what kind of drink you’d want, so I just got sodas.”

“That’s ok. I don’t drink much, so I don’t really know either,” he responded with a laugh.

“Fair enough.”

There was an awkward silence for a few minutes before Soonyoung asked, “So, how was the drive here?”

“It could have been better. There was so much more traffic than I’m used to,” you responded with a soft laugh.

“Oh my god, I know! I guess Seungcheol picked a busy weekend or something. Listen, I love the guy, but his timing sucks when it comes to planning company events.”

You laughed a bit at Soonyoung’s comment, and some of the awkwardness in the air seemed to dissipate. You also noticed that there was a faint blush on his cheeks, but you decided not to comment on it. After all, you didn’t want the awkwardness to come back.

When Soonyoung heard your laugh, he was certain that it was the most beautiful sound that he’d ever heard. Sure, he still thought that you were far too serious at work, but actually interacting with you outside of the office made him start to reconsider the way he felt about you. He realized that he liked you a lot, and for a brief moment, he thought about asking you to continue the party in your room. He decided against it, however, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or come on too strongly.

As the night went on, you found yourself really enjoying Soonyoung’s company. He was one of the funniest people you’d talked to in a long time, he actually paid attention when you spoke, and he didn’t make a single rude comment the entire time you sat with him, still drinking sodas because neither of you wanted alcohol. You started to wonder what was different, since you’d been alone with him before, but you decided not to think about it too much. After all, there were far more interesting things to think about.

Whether it was the desperation that came from the dry spell you’d found yourself in for the past several months, the way Soonyoung looked at you as you told some story about a girls’ night gone wrong, or some strange combination of the two, you had no idea. All you knew was that you wanted Soonyoung, and you wanted him immediately.

After you finished your story, you looked at Soonyoung and asked, “Do you wanna go back to the room?”

With a smirk on his face that you knew would be the death of you, he asked, “Why? I thought we were having fun here.”

“Oh, I am,” you began, your nerves slowly starting to get the better of you. “I just thought we could have more fun back in the room.”

“What kind of fun?”

“That’s up to you.”

“Well, I have a few ideas.”

“I can’t wait to hear them.”

“When we get back to the room, I’d be happy to show you,” he said with a wink.

Before you knew it, you were paying for the drinks and walking back to your room with Soonyoung. When you got there, you had to wait for him to unlock the door, and it was torture. When the door finally opened, however, the frustration you were feeling shifted into something that you couldn’t quite name.

Soonyoung pinned you to the door the moment it was shut again, his lips meeting yours with a passion that could only be described as animalistic. As his lips moved against yours, a soft moan left your mouth, and he took that as an opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Eventually, he pulled away to let you breathe, and the only thing you could think to say was, “Wow.”

“Already so flustered you can’t even speak? You’re so cute,” Soonyoung commented with a soft laugh.

A soft whine slipped out in response, and you said, “Please do something.”

“What do you want me to do, baby?”

“Want you to touch me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Just, please,” you begged, desperate for anything beyond what you’d already been given.

Soonyoung pretended to think for a minute before he smiled at you and said, “Lie down on the bed for me, baby.”

You immediately did as you were told, and Soonyoung settled himself between your legs before pulling your skirt up and your panties down. Then, he started placing gentle kisses on your inner thigh, only biting occasionally. Every touch left you wanting more, and you could only take so much teasing. When it all got to be too much, you whined and said, “Please, just fuck me already!”

Soonyoung laughed against you and said, “Alright, princess.”

With no additional warning or teasing, Soonyoung slowly licked a stripe up your pussy. A loud moan left your mouth at the sudden stimulation, and it was all you could do to stay still as he continued to eat you out there was nothing in the world that he wanted to do more.

Each time he moaned against you, shockwaves of pleasure went through your body, and you knew that you probably wouldn’t last long. You wanted to be embarrassed, since your annoying coworker was the reason you were so turned on, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care. After all, Soonyoung was already better at pleasing you than any other man you’d been with before him.

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moaned, tangling your hands in his hair. Soonyoung didn’t respond verbally, but the way he started to move his tongue faster after you spoke told you that he heard you loud and clear.

It was only a matter of time before you started to feel your release building inside you. With a loud whine, you said, “’m close.” Soonyoung groaned against you one more time, and that was all it took for your orgasm to wash over you with a loud moan of his name. He continued his movements as you reached your high, stopping just before the pleasure would have turned into pain.

Once you caught your breath, you sat up and pulled Soonyoung into a kiss, and the fire of lust that you thought had been put out was lit once again. Within minutes, both of you had thrown your clothes on the floor, and Soonyoung was on top of you. After he lined himself up with your entrance, you kissed him again, and he took the opportunity to carefully push into you.

A loud moan left your mouth as Soonyoung entered you, and you held onto him for dear life while you adjusted to his size. He was much bigger than the men you’d previously been with, so it took longer for you to adjust than you would have expected. Not that you were complaining, of course.

Once you were ready, you gave Soonyoung the green light, and he slowly started moving. Every drag of his cock inside you had you seeing stars, and you swore he was better in bed than anyone else that you’d been with before him. As he increased the speed of his thrusts, however, you found that you weren’t thinking about anyone else anymore.

Soonyoung loved watching you fall apart underneath him, if he was being completely honest. Sure, he didn’t exactly plan to sleep with you when he first ran into you at the bar, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. You felt too good around him for him to complain, and he loved every moan and whine that left your lips as he pounded into you.

Just like when he’d gotten you off with his tongue, you knew pretty early on that you probably wouldn’t last long with Soonyoung’s cock inside of you. Still, you really didn’t care. All you cared about was the pleasure coursing through your veins with every movement.

“Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Like this pussy was made for me,” Soonyoung said in between groans. You were too fucked out to respond verbally, but the fact that you started moaning louder after he spoke told him that you heard him loud and clear.

“I’m close, baby. Where do you want it?”

“Inside, please, please, please,” you begged, desperate for Soonyoung to fill you.

Within seconds, Soonyoung reached his high, filling you with cum. Your release came not long after that, and you pulled him in for another kiss as you came undone around his cock. Eventually, you had to pull away for air, but the way he looked into your eyes as you came down from your high left butterflies in your stomach and a smile on your face.

After you both caught your breath, Soonyoung said, “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby,” and climbed off of you. Once you felt like you could move, you took his outstretched hand and stood up, pulling him into a hug. When he let go, you both moved to clean up and get dressed.

Once you were both dressed and comfortable again, you pulled Soonyoung into a hug and asked, “Can we share a bed tonight?”

“Of course, baby. Which one?”

“I don’t think it matters,” you answered with a laugh.

Soonyoung smiled and led you to the bed furthest from the door, and you immediately snuggled into his side. The bed was small, so you had to lie down pretty much on top of him to avoid falling off, but neither of you really minded.

While Soonyoung held you close, the two of you talked about your interests and lives outside of work, with each of you hoping to get to know the other better. The conversation didn’t last very long though, since both of you fell asleep in a matter of minutes, surprised by the events of the day but happy to end it in each other’s arms.

The next morning, you woke up on the floor in between the room’s two beds. At some point during the night, you rolled over too far and fell out of Soonyoung’s bed, much to your frustration and his amusement when he woke up and realized what had happened. Once he stopped laughing, however, he helped you up and asked, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. I guess I fell out of bed while I was sleeping.”

“I noticed. You looked kind of cute on the floor,” he replied, starting to laugh again.

You pouted at his comment and said, “Why are you laughing at me?”

“I’m just laughing because of how adorable you are, sweetheart.”

You started to smile when he called you cute again and pulled him into a hug. With a groan of frustration, you said, “I really don’t want to participate in whatever Seungcheol has planned for today.”

“I know. I’m pretty sure I heard him mention trust falls when we were all in the lobby last night.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you said, laughing at the cliché team building your boss apparently had planned.

“I wish I was. But I swear, I specifically heard him say the words ‘trust falls’ to Jeonghan.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, dreading the event even more.

“Yeah, I’m not excited about it either. Look on the bright side, though. I’ll be right there with you the whole time, no matter how awkward and boring it gets.”

You smiled when you heard Soonyoung say that he’d be there with you, and without really thinking about it, you kissed him again. He deepened the kiss pretty much immediately, with his hands finding their way to your hair and pulling slightly. A soft moan left your lips, and he pulled away with a grin on his face before he said, “Later, baby.”

“That’s not fair! You started it!”

“Yes I did.”

You laughed at his boldness, and the two of you got ready together to face the day ahead. While you went about your morning routine, you occasionally noticed Soonyoung staring at you with a dopey grin on his face and something that you couldn’t quite identify in his eyes. The third time you caught him staring at you, you finally decided to just ask, “What are you looking at?”

“You. Why do you ask? Is it a problem?”

“No. I just wanna know what’s so interesting that I’ve caught you looking at me three different times now.”

“You are. Plus, you look really fucking sexy,” he replied with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but your soft laugh at his answer betrayed your attempt at looking annoyed.

After your little exchange, you went back to getting ready, and when it was time to leave, you and Soonyoung left together to go to the convention center near your hotel. When you got there, several of your coworkers stared at the two of you, clearly perplexed as to how you two were interacting without an argument.

When you ran into Mingyu, he gave you a knowing smile and asked, “So, how was your night?”

“It was pretty good,” you admitted, looking at Soonyoung as you spoke. “Turns out we have more in common than we thought.”

“See?” Mingyu asked. “I told you to trust me.”

Before Soonyoung could ask what Mingyu meant, Wonwoo arrived and said, “So, (Y/N), I see you had an interesting night.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment and said, “Shut up.”

“Shit, we have to go!” Mingyu groaned. “Do you remember where Seungcheol we were doing the things?”

“No, I don’t,” you answered.

“I do,” Soonyoung said. “Follow me.”

You followed Soonyoung down one of the convention center’s many hallways until you stood in front of a door that was labeled, “Carat Interactive Team Building.” When you entered the room, you noticed a very large stage, complete with a microphone and a banner above it that said, “Trust Falls.” That was when you realized that Soonyoung really wasn’t kidding about what he’d overheard the night before, and you stifled a laugh. You didn’t find the situation funny anymore, however, when your boss took his place in front of the microphone with a look of what could only be described as rage on his face. With a deep sigh, he began, “Welcome to day one of the Carat Interactive team building retreat. We’re here today so that you all can build stronger bonds with your teammates and hopefully learn something new about what it really means to work together and trust each other.”

Soonyoung snickered at Seungcheol’s introduction and said, “We wouldn’t need to learn how to work together if you were better at coordinating.”

“What was that, Soonyoung?” Seungcheol asked, clearly tired of your coworker’s bullshit.

“I said that we wouldn’t need to learn how to work together if you were better at coordinating,” Soonyoung repeated loudly, unfazed by Seungcheol’s anger.

Seungcheol sighed again before he smiled and said, “You know what, thank you, Soonyoung. Thank you so much for volunteering to start our first activity of the day.”

“Hey, I didn’t-” Soonyoung began.

“I don’t care!” Seungcheol exclaimed, his previous rage replaced with unsettling excitement. “Our first team building exercise is trust falls. Each of you will take turns coming up onto this stage and sharing something about yourself that you’ve never told the rest of the team. After you share, you will turn so that your back is facing your teammates and fall backward, trusting your teammates to catch you. Is that clear?” After a series of vague expressions of affirmation and nods from your coworkers, your boss added, “Come on up, Soonyoung! Thank you so much for agreeing to go first.”

Hesitantly, Soonyoung joined Seungcheol on stage and asked, “Why are we doing this?”

“I just told you why. Now, share something that your teammates don’t know about you!” Seungcheol replied, the unsettling excitement in his voice making him sound like a game show host that had been possessed by a demon.

Seungcheol stepped out of the way, and with a sigh, Soonyoung stepped closer to the microphone as you and the rest of your coworkers stepped closer to the stage to catch him. After another deep breath, he said, “I really don’t want to be here right now,” his solemn demeanor making it seem like he was sharing his darkest secret with the group instead of just being a smartass.

You laughed at his “admission,” which earned you a glare from Seungcheol. He didn’t say anything, though, which was a huge relief.

As everyone else on your team took turns sharing secrets and falling, you realized that Seungcheol had intentionally picked you last. You should have been upset, but all you could think about was how grateful you were that you got to put off your part of the exercise for as long as possible.

When Seungcheol called your name, you made your way onto the stage, and he said, “What would you like to share with your teammates today?”

With a deep breath to calm your nerves, you said, “I worry too much about what other people think, and sometimes I think that no one actually likes me.”

You stepped forward, turned your back to your coworkers, and fell, hoping that someone would actually catch you. After you fell, you felt several sets of arms holding you above the ground. When your feet were back on the floor, you turned and realized that Soonyoung was one of the people that caught you. With the same smirk on his face that he had at the bar, he said, “I mean, I had a feeling that you would fall for me after last night, but this seems a bit excessive.”

You laughed at his comment and said, “Thank you.”

With all of the trust falls complete, Seungcheol dismissed you all from the auditorium by saying, “That’s all we had planned for today. Enjoy the rest of your day, everyone, but don’t do anything stupid. I’m looking at you, Soonyoung.”

The man in question laughed and reached his hand out to grab yours. You smiled at the small gesture, and he said, “So, what do you wanna do now?”

“I think I’d like to just go back to the room, if that’s ok.”

“Of course, baby.”

You and Soonyoung made your way back to the hotel room, and when you got there, you collapsed on your bed and sighed. Soonyoung laughed a bit at your actions, and you asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, sweetheart. You’re just so cute.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Hmmm, no thanks,” he responded with a laugh. You laughed along with him, and he took a seat on his bed. Once the laughter turned to silence, however, his demeanor grew serious, and he asked, “You know that I really do like you, right?”

“What?”

“I’m talking about what you said during the trust falls. You know that I really do like you, right?”

“Oh. Well, I guess I do now.”

“I mean it.”

“Thanks,” you said with a soft smile.

There was another silence before Soonyoung asked, “So, what do you wanna do?”

“Can we just talk?”

“Yeah, of course. Getting to know you better has been really nice.”

With that, the two of you talked about anything and everything that came to mind until it got too late for either of you to keep your eyes open. That was when you both went to sleep, each of you in your separate beds this time. You briefly considered asking if you could share a bed with Soonyoung again, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or wake up on the floor again, so you decided against it.

The rest of the week went by with no other major events, and you couldn’t wait to finally go home after being stuck in an unfamiliar city with your coworkers for a week. The drive home was far more peaceful than you expected, with significantly less traffic than when you’d driven to the hotel at the start of the week. When you finally got home, the first thing you did was text Soonyoung.

Y/N: Hi. Just wanted to say I had a lot of fun with you this week.

Soonyoung: I had fun too. Any time you wanna hang out, just let me know.

Y/N: I will, thanks. See you at work tomorrow.

Soonyoung: See you tomorrow.

After that, you decided to enjoy the rest of your day by ordering a pizza from the restaurant near your apartment and watching your favorite movie for the thousandth time while you ate it. The time to just exist in your apartment and not worry about expectations from your boss or what your coworkers thought of you was badly needed, and at the end of the day, you went to bed feeling much better about the mandatory fun your boss had spent the past week subjecting you to.

When you went back to work the following Monday, you noticed that everyone in the office was far nicer to you than usual, except for Soonyoung. He wasn’t exactly rude to you, but he also didn’t talk to you nearly as much as he had when the two of you were away. You didn’t worry too much, though, assuming that he was just tired from the trip and wanted a bit of space.

After a few weeks of Soonyoung not talking to you unless it was absolutely necessary, however, you started to worry. Had you said or done something to upset him at some point while you were at the retreat? You had no idea, so you decided to try again to talk to him whenever you could get him alone.

The opportunity to ask Soonyoung what the hell was going on came when you least expected it. You’d gone into the office break room and noticed that he was the only person there. He saw you at the same time that you saw him, and he tried to leave the room. Before he could, though, you stood in front of the door and asked, “Why haven’t you been talking to me?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he answered, clearly uncomfortable.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you answered, sick of his shit already. “Since we got home, you’ve refused to talk to me unless you absolutely have to. Why?”

With a sigh, Soonyoung said, “I just got nervous around you after the stuff that happened during the retreat. Can I make it up to you?”

“How?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, baby,” he answered, with that god damn smirk forming on his face as he spoke. Honestly, it probably shouldn’t have had the effect on you that it did, especially when you considered how upset you were that he’d been avoiding you. When you looked into his eyes, however, you didn’t care that he’d upset you. All you could think about was how badly you wanted him.

So, you turned away from Soonyoung just long enough to lock the door before turning back to him and kissing him with everything you had. The intensity almost knocked him over, but he stood firm as he wrapped his arms around you. You moaned softly into the kiss, and Soonyoung pulled away just long enough to say, “Just tell me what you want, baby, and it’s yours.”

“Want you.”

“I kind of figured as much,” he teased. “Do you want my mouth, my fingers, or my cock, princess?”

“Fingers, please?”

“Your wish is my command, my darling,” he said as he shifted your panties to the side and gently inserted two fingers into you. You cried out at the feeling, moving your hips ever so slightly as he fucked you.

With another loud whine, you said, “Feels so good.”

“I know, baby. I love how much of a mess you are for me.”

His words made your head spin, and you started to buck your hips up to meet his hand again. With every movement, you felt yourself already heading toward your release. This time, you were slightly embarrassed, but your arousal overruled any judgement or embarrassment as you lost yourself in the way Soonyoung’s fingers felt inside of you.

“I’m close,” you said, desperate to reach your high.

Once he processed what you said, Soonyoung started to lightly kiss your neck, and his mouth on you was the exact push that you needed to go tumbling over the edge. He continued to gently fuck you through your release until you started to push his hand away, overwhelmed by the continued stimulation.

Once you came down from your high, you leaned closer to Soonyoung to kiss him, but he moved at the last second, sending you tumbling to the floor. After you caught your breath, you stood up and asked, “What the fuck?”

Soonyoung didn’t answer, though, because he was too busy unlocking the door and running out of the room, since you were no longer blocking him. Once you realized that he’d left, and you were alone in the break room, you started to sob uncontrollably, wondering what you’d done wrong for him to treat you like you were nothing to him unless he was fucking you.

Once you calmed down, you stood up, brushed yourself off, and walked out of the break room to go back to the work you’d left unfinished. When you got back to your desk, Wonwoo approached you and asked, “Are you ok? Mingyu said he heard sobs coming from the break room.”

The question almost made you cry again, but you managed to maintain your composure long enough to choke out, “I’m fine. It’s a long story. Can I tell you later?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks for looking out for me.”

“That what friends are for,” he said with a smile.

Wonwoo walked away after that, and you went back to your work. For the most part, you didn’t have any additional problems, which you appreciated. The only real issue was the fact that you couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened with Soonyoung. Why had he been so cold toward you after what happened in the break room? You had no idea, so you tried to the best of your ability to not think about it. All of your thoughts were on Soonyoung once again, however, when he sent you a text after work.

Soonyoung: I’m sorry I left as quickly as I did. Seungcheol texted me to tell me to get back to work, and I panicked.

Y/N: Are you fucking serious? You couldn’t have said something before you left the room?

After that, you didn’t get a reply, so you decided to try again to avoid thinking about Soonyoung. Just like every other time you’d tried to purge unwanted thoughts from your head, however, thoughts of him and what he wanted from you plagued pretty much every waking moment. After weeks of struggling with what to do, you decided to go to the man that started it all for advice.

When you showed up at Mingyu’s apartment unannounced, your friend was surprised, to say the least. Regardless, he happily let you into his apartment and asked, “What’s up?”

“We need to talk about Soonyoung.”

“What do you mean?

“He won’t talk to me unless he wants to fuck.”

“That doesn’t sound like Soonyoung. He’s an idiot, sure, but he’s not an asshole.” To prove your point, you showed Mingyu your messaging history with Soonyoung. He was surprised to say the least, but he didn’t try to argue anymore. All he said was, “I’m so sorry. If I’d known he’d act that way, I would never have set you two up.”

“I’m not here for an apology. I’m here for advice. I want to ignore the way I feel about him, but I just can’t anymore.”

“Wait, what do you mean by ‘the way you feel about him?’”

You sighed and answered, “I think I want an actual relationship with him.”

Mingyu was shocked by your admission, but once he got over that, he said, “I think you should tell him that.”

“’Gyu, I love you, but are you crazy?”

“Please, just trust me on this.”

“Trusting you is what got me into this situation in the first place!”

“And trusting me is what’s going to get you out of it. I know Soonyoung. If you tell him, he’ll realize that he’s been acting like an idiot and fix things.”

With a sigh, you reluctantly said, “Ok. Thanks for the advice.”

“It’s no problem. You know I’ll always be here for you.”

With that, you pulled Mingyu into a hug, hoping that he was right about Soonyoung. As you left his apartment, you contemplated when you wanted to talk to him. After some careful consideration, you knew exactly when and how you wanted to confront him.

In the end, you decided that Valentine’s Day was the perfect time to go to Soonyoung’s apartment and confront him. You didn’t initially want the discussion to happen on the holiday, but when you realized that it was the next time you would be free, you knew that you had the perfect opportunity to solve the Soonyoung problem once and for all. Either he would confess that he wanted more, which was perfect for the holiday of love, or he would tell you he never wanted to see you again, which would be a perfect example of dark irony. Regardless of the outcome, you figured that there was no better time to get the answers that you so desperately wanted.

You knocked on Soonyoung’s door, and it took some time for him to answer it. When he opened the door and saw you standing in front of him, he tried to close the door. Before he could fully shut it, however, you yelled, “Can we talk, please?”

Hesitantly, Soonyoung opened the door again and asked, “What do you want?”

“I wanna know why you only talk to me when you’re horny.”

“What? What the fuck do you-”

“Every time you’ve called or texted me since we’ve been home from that stupid retreat that Seungcheol put together, it’s been because you wanted sex. I want to know why you think so little of me that you think that’s ok.”

“I don’t think that little of you.”

“Then why the fuck do you do it?”

With a deep sigh, he answered, “Just come inside, and we’ll talk.”

Reluctantly, you agreed, and he moved out of the doorway to let you in. Once you were in his apartment, he led you to his couch. As you sat down, you asked, “Why did we have to talk here?”

With a deep sigh, Soonyoung said, “So I could do this,” and kissed you.

You started to melt into the kiss, just like you always did when you were with him, but it only took a minute for you to snap out of it, pull away, and say, “I’m not having sex with you today, Soonyoung.”

“I know.”

You were quiet after that, confused by the way he was acting and irritated that you let the situation get as far as it did. After a few minutes lost in your thoughts, you said, “Just tell me what you want. If you just want someone to have sex with, tell me. If you want a relationship, tell me. Either way, I’ll be ok. I just can’t stand the games.”

It was in that moment that Soonyoung realized that he fucked up. With another deep sigh, he said, “I want a relationship with you. I’m sorry that I ever made you think otherwise. Can you forgive me?”

You softened when you noticed the tears forming in his eyes, and against your better judgement, you said, “Of course.”

Soonyoung smiled and pulled you into a hug after that, relieved that he hadn’t lost you completely. While he held you close, he said, “Does this mean what I think it means?” You nodded against him, and he let go of you just long enough to cup your face in his hands and say, “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“Thank you for finally giving me a straight answer about what I am to you.”

With that same smirk on his face, he asked, “So, baby, how do you want to celebrate our first Valentine’s Day together?”

“I’m happy to celebrate however you want. As long as we’re spending time together, I’m fine with anything. I still don’t want to have sex tonight, though.”

“That’s perfectly fine, princess. I’m sorry about how I treated you. You must think I’m an idiot, huh?”

“Just a little, but you’re my idiot.”

With that, you relaxed into Soonyoung’s hold, content with the way your conversation went. You weren’t entirely sure that you trusted him yet, but you still wanted to give him a chance. After all, you liked the way that he made you feel now that you weren’t angry anymore.

Thank you for reading! I loved participating in this event. Once again, thank you to @ddeonghwa-s for the opportunity to participate! If you liked this, please like and reblog! If you wanna be tagged in future works, fill out the taglist form here! If you want to check out my other works, check out my main masterlist. If you want to see what else is in the works, you can check my upcoming works list! If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you want to see, feel free to send a request via my asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading, have a lovely Valentine's Day!

[mammalsofaction]

The Rizzler

Rating: M

Relationship: Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus

Add tags: Jealous Perry, possessive Perry, Happy Valentines!, I couldn't help myself, rizzler Perry, human Perry, speaking Perry, hewt and Stemmy, 0-100 real fast like.

Perry might have been approaching this mission with a tad more undeserved aggression than necessary.

It's been…hard, recently. To remember that he and Heinz weren't in an actual relationship, and that this was for good reason. And Perry's pretty sure that whatever it was between them going unspoken, it wasn't one-sided. Heinz had a bit of a talent of talking without saying much of anything, and so within the last few years of their relationship Perry had learned to read the fine print: where his touch lingered, their eyes meeting seconds too long, the genuine enjoyment of companionship, not to mention the unabashed domesticity.

They were a thing, not that they said anything out loud. Not in so many words...so he. Forgets.

Heinz had always had a more active social life than Perry himself, say nothing of his attempt of a love life in the wake of his divorce. He'd always known Heinz to be...the more sexually active between the two of them as well. Sure, the dating attempts had cooled down significantly since they'd gotten close a year or so ago, but never zero, so every couple of months, he'd get lonely enough to try.

Case in point:-

"Gott, that is so unfair, Perry the Platypus," he complained, scowling. " That thing has a single charge every 12 hours, and my date is tonight. One blast-you don't even need any help, rizzing wise! You have plenty of rizz on your own!"

Perry scowls, wondering who in the hell had taught him that. Vanessa, probably, although Norm was going through a bit of an online phase right now.

The Inator had been small, portable; only a little bulkier than a full-size pistol—the barrel stubbier, but it was all in all about 5.5'' give or take—and so the wrestling that ensued had involved a lot more handsy and personal than usual. (Which was saying something.) There was that usual tension charging the unavoidable intimacy that entailed much of their fighting now, but Perry had spent most of his attention on how pissed be felt—pissed as he usually does, when he's forced to share in Heinz's attentions, when Heinz chose to be difficult, pissed over the fact that he had no right to be pissed, so he was pissed over the fact that he felt pissed in the first place, and finally. Pissed over the fact that Heinz would think that he would need a "Rizzler-Inator" in the first place.

It wouldn't matter with the right person, Perry'd thought to himself. Heinz was sweet, attentive, dedicated. He was a great cook and a wonderful father, and he was a little dorky—sure, but that simply added to his charm. The lilt of his Drusselsteinian accent was rugged, and Heinz was interesting, and he didn't need a fucking Rizzler-Inator to score a hot date when Perry was right there in the first place!

We digress.

Their usual game of cat-and mouse had taken them over an hour. Heinz docked him in the jaw, and Perry had slammed his head into a railing. By the time Perry'd tackled him onto the balcony and sat in Heinz's lap, the weather had gotten stormy and grey, minutes away from the storm the radio had announced this morning. (Which Perry only noticed due to Phineas and Ferb's verbal dissapointment, and Lawrence's gripe on why such a storm had to happen on Valentine's Day.) Heinz insistently had the nozzle pointed to himself, and looking back—the effect wouldn't even be permanent, much less any way harmful to the people around him. There was, of course, that small political risk of repeat events following the De-Handsome inator, but even that could be easily curbed.

Nevertheless, Perry was being paid to ensure even that slight risk would never come into fruition, and he was feeling particularly vindictive. The Inator is humming: that recognizable melody of a fully charged machine, and with a twist of Heinz's wrist and a roll of places—the trigger gets pulled, and Perry gets a faceful of Rizz.

Despite the weather, Perry feels warm, tingly. He blinks away the black spots in his vision just in time to tune into Heinz's tantrum. He's been thrown back from the recoil of the Inator—not excessively, but Perry still has to roll over a bit blindly to find the source of that familiar whining.

Above them, thunder rolls. The first drips would fall, and soon.

"Maybe I'd have to cancel anyway." Heinz was saying sadly. "The blind date events include barhopping, and a dinner picnic at Danville Park. It's a bust—Lord, why do I ever bother?"

Perry frowns, pulling his collapsible umbrella out of his hat. His heart aches: with guilt, yes, and not a little bit of shame, because Heinz hadn't even meant to hurt anyone. He just meant to give his own heart a bit of a reprieve, and the hypocrisy doesn't escape him: it is Perry who hurts him, and it is Perry still who soothes the balm.

Heinz is still sat on his haunches when Perry comes forward with the umbrella, and Perry makes sure Heinz's titanium fingers curl around the stem as it exchanged hands. An unspoken hold this.

"Wh-?" Said Heinz. "Did you have this when you came here?"

Once he ensured the hold was secure, Perry finds his hands move to cup Heinz's chin instead, initiating eye contact—deep and heated. It's bold. Almost too bold. But Heinz clamps up at the sight of it, his cheeks growing flushed.

"Let's get you out of the rain," Perry says, and it's… gentle. As gentle as he almost never allows himself to be. "Sugar dissolves in water."

That does it. Heinz's face explodes in a riot of color, and even as Perry guides him up, up, to his feet, inside he is almost frozen stiff in surprise of his own actions.

"May I?" Perry says, gesturing to the Inator still clutched in Heinz's hand, and he hands it over silently, almost timidly. Perry doesn't look as he to throws it over Heinz's shoulder (though he hears it break over the tiled floor), but when Heinz turns—outraged—Perry grips his chin firmly to bring his attention back to him. "Keep your eyes on me." He growls lowly, pushing Heinz back, back, under the shade of the lab, into the wall. Heinz gasped, for another host of reasons, and he abandons his grip on the umbrella when Perry hikes his leg over his hip, in order to curl his arms over Perry's shoulder. "Or I'll make sure you do."

Heinz's breath stutters, restarts, and they're pressed so close that Perry can feel him gulp. "Well," he said weakly. "Nice to see that the Inator works."

Perry hadn't even considered that. But then again, his mind is on greener pastures. All he knows is that he's feeling manic, hot, brave. Making sure that Heinz was still looking—and he was, too entranced to even think about looking anywhere else—Perry throws his fedora over his own shoulder. And with it; the built in body-cam attached to it's band.

Carl has seen a lot, but OWCA wasn't about to have anything to do with what he's planning to do next.

"I understand the weather has cleared the rest of your…evening, doctor?" Perry purrs, and Heinz whined. "I have suggestions with what we might do to pass the time…inside."

Heinz gulps again, heart beating. When he speaks, it's with a breathy stutter. "I-well, I'm-I'm sure we can fit you in."

Perry smirks. "I'm sure you can."

Denial moment

[cutiefulism]

toji (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡ jjk

wc: 1.5k

synopsis: u n toji work together, but ur broke n fucking toji for cash. uhh that's it.

tags: porn w minimal plot, semi-public?, black&fem!reader, a little banter (if u can even call it that)

your break is only thirty minutes long.

any time over, and that greedy fucker you're forced to call your manager docks your pay.

you need that money. life, even when you live alone, is expensive enough, but with your cat needing urgent surgery and some bank-breaking medicine, that base expense doubles.

one grand a month just isn't enough.

you know it, your boss knows it, and toji knows it, too.

that's why he's splitting you open on his cock, after all.

your teeth sink into your bottom lip, worrying at the raw and kiss-swollen flesh to suppress a whine. the weeping tip of his dick is loving your gooey insides — kissing against your cervix with every thrust.

the staff-only restroom is almost unbearably hot, the musky scent of sex and the consistent sound of damp skin slapping against skin filling the tiny room. the mirror, luckily, is perfectly clear, allowing toji to see your debauched expression.

it's, for lack of a better word, lewd, and yet the knot of need in your stomach loosens a bit more, your legs spreading a little wider.

“ungh, t-toji, hurry up—” while you'd hate to bring such good times to an end, it must have been at least twenty minutes by now, and both the literal and metaphorical clock are ticking.

losing your job over some dick would seriously be a major low point in your life.

he only hums, and one hand from your hip slides up to the delicious dip in your back. toji’s thumb lightly traces along the ink there, sending a shiver up your spine and making your walls clench around him, as if you can suck him in any deeper.

he wouldn't have expected a cute waitress like you to have a tattoo there. ya learn something new every day.

“why? ain't know we was in a rush.”

god, doesn't his snarkiness ever turn off?

you lift and turn your head to look over your shoulder, hazy eyes narrowing into a shitty imitation of your usual glare. “y-yes, you did.”

he might play dumb, but he's far from it.

he shrugs, and that flame of irritation only burns brighter. obviously he doesn't give a fuck — he has nothing to lose.

you open your mouth to chastise him again, the words resting on your tongue, only for a sharp snap of his hips to scramble any coherent thoughts and shut you right up.

toji likes you better when the only thing coming from your lips is his name.

your head turns right back around and lolls forward, and his entire hand comes to rest on the small of your back, pressing down and pinning you to the cold restroom counter. the stark contrast between the scorching hot skin of your stomach and the smooth coolness of the marble makes you whimper, and he has to swallow down a moan.

“we'd already be done if i didn't hafta prep that prissy pussy of yers. tight like a… mmm, shiit — l-like a virgin.”

not that toji minds, of course. he loves prepping you, loves getting a taste of that pretty, needy cunt while stretching you with three thick fingers.

but, you don't need to know that, so it somehow comes back on you.

you shake your head, curls spilling free and clinging to the sides of your sweat-soaked face. this isn't your fault. it's his.

no man needs his dick to be eight and a half inches long.

carrying something like that in your pants should be a crime is what you would like to think, but judging by the way your moans fill up the cramped restroom and your gummy walls grip his shaft, you really aren't complaining.

and to be fair, how could you?

he's fucking you so nice-nasty, something that would put even the most experienced pornstars to shame.

long, deep strokes that hit that spongey spot every single time. toji has to actively remember to swallow down the saliva that floods his mouth every time you groan his name or your hips squirm back to try and meet his thrusts almost in spite of the fact he's holding you down.

his half-lidded emerald eyes leave your reflection in the mirror and track the bounce of your ass when he rams his hips into yours. maybe next time he'll get to try that hole instead, on one of your longer breaks.

if he threatens that bastard manager enough, surely he'd be willing to let you have an hour long break. paid, too — none of that clocking out and then clocking back in once it's over bullshit.

god, you really need a better job.

the calloused hand on your hip slides down between your quivering thighs and to your puffy clit, and the scar in the corner of toji’s lips stretches with his grin when you mewl.

you're so soaked, drenched in your own arousal and cum. it's running all down your brown thighs, dripping onto the tiled floor. a mess one of you will be forced to clean up later, lest your coworkers finally use their brain and actually figure out what happened here.

he swirls small, quick circles against that bundle of nerves, and your eyes roll all the way back, fingers scrambling for the edge of the sink. the pressure in your gut builds and builds, that knot only getting looser.

“oh, ohhh! toji, ‘m gonna cum—”

of course you are.

toji grunts, adam’s apple bobbing as he picks up his pace. what was once quick but measured thrusts now become something more like a fucking jackhammer, sloppy and painful.

is he trying to put you through the sink?

but you can't blame him, can you? not when you sound so sweet, look so gorgeous, feel so perfect around his cock.

it's like you were made for him. or maybe his dick was made for you.

tomato, tomatoe, right?

“be the fuck quiet,” he huffs out, head dropping forward and dark fringe obscuring his eyes. “don't… fuuuck, that's it… want the whole restaurant knowing yer getting f-fucked, now do ya?”

these sounds — the squelch of your pussy every time he shoves back in, your melodious whines and moans and grunts, the sweet, needy sighs and desperate gasps — all are reserved for him.

no one else can make you feel like this.

not that bitchass loverboy in your dms. not your creepy landlord.

just him.

“n-no!” you cry, and he can't help but coo. how cute. “t-toji, oh my god, please, p-please, fuck—”

you don't even know what you're begging for.

  to cum? he won't stop you.

for him not to tell your manager? he'd never ruin y'all's secret meetings like that.

hell, toji doesn't really know what you're begging for either, but the hand in the small of your back returns to your bruised hips, and he lifts you up and back, ass flush against his abdomen.

if he were to flip you over, you'd see an outline of how deep he's gone, right up to your empty womb.

that mental image is enough, and your jaw is going slack in a silent scream, pussy gushing and legs trembling for the second time in half an hour. the pads of your fingers press so hard into the marble that you're sure they'll break.

toji holds you right there, down to the now creamy base, thumb still rubbing at your poor clit to draw out your orgasm. your ragged gasps are all that he can hear, and he has to close his eyes and bite the everloving fuck out of his lip to not cum inside.

you wouldn't be very happy about that, and a lot of things would get complicated very fast.

once you slump forward, face the pinnacle of bliss, toji moves his hand and pulls out with a squelch of protest from your cunt. with a few quick, easy pumps of his fist, using your essence as lube, he's cumming, long, stringy ropes of creamy white spurting from that angry-red tip and painting your back.

a long groan of your name leaves his swollen lips, dick twitching a few more times in his hand before growing soft.

“ah, fuck,” he whispers, and, shit, he might be getting old, because he has to catch his breath.

after a few moments just filled with shared ragged, uneven breathing, toji begins to dress, tucking that monster back into his boxers and fastening his pants.

you start to follow suit with trembling fingers and unsteady legs. honestly, you could lay there for a couple minutes longer, but by now, your break is definitely up.

and here comes the awkward part — leaving without any of your coworkers noticing either of you, acting like you don't have his cum on your back or that toji can still taste you on his tongue.

his eyes roam over you — just a cursory glance to make sure you're okay, presentable enough for work. if you lose your job because of indecency, how will he spend his breaks?

jacking off won't cut it. trust, he's tried.

you're perceptive as always, however, and scoff. “don't do that. ‘m fine, and make sure to wire me my money.”

and with that, you're leaving the restroom, the heavy door swinging shut behind you.

toji feels his lips curl up into a grin again.

he can't wait for y'all's next shift.

smut is hard to write, i admire all of u that does so consistently and for over 500 words ᕙ⁠(⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ also to my lovely 40 followers how do we feel about this layout, pls give criticism!! </3

[littleindulgences]

If he were in the business of being honest with himself, Simon would admit that he was actually kind of nervous. He turns the blank white envelope over and over in his hands, watching you from across the mess hall. You’re sitting with a squad of recruits today, getting to know them for reasons he can’t fathom. Your smile warms him all the way from here.

“Ye just got to do it, LT,” Soap remarks with his mouth full. “‘S the only way to put it to rest.” Simon just grunts. He’s still a little loath to admit that he has a crush on you—it’s childish, and embarrassing, and compromising…

But he can’t help it.

He watches you exit the mess, the recruits trailing after you like ducklings. The envelope twists in his hands.

“She’s got range duty for the next two hours,” John says with raised eyebrows as he takes a sip of his drink. Simon purses his lips under the mask. His team stares at him pointedly.

“Ah, fuck off,” he grumbles, rising from the bench and walking off. “Arseholes.”

“Good luck, LT!” Soap calls after him. Simon flips him the bird. The Scot’s cackle follows him out.

Ghost wanders into the barracks, taking a winding, looping route that doesn’t do anything but make his apprehension worse. He finally forces himself to take Johnny’s advice and just fucking do it, and he marches right up to your locked door and slips the envelope underneath.

There. Nothing more to do but wait.

What the fuck. What the fuck. The note lays flat on your cot, rather unassuming, except for the newspaper-cutout letters and the thick black marker scrawling out a time, a place, and “You’ll Be Mine” with a little heart underneath.

“Well that’s…terrifying,” says Alicia, your bunkmate.

“Mhm,” you say. You’ve been staring at it for five minutes.

You found the envelope on the floor when you came back from training. It was blank except for the puppy dog sticker on the back, clearly intended to mimic your callsign: Watchdog. You’d opened it without a thought and found this, a threat/ransom note of what you think was meant to be a valentine.

“You’re not gonna go, are you?” Alicia asks.

You suck in a breath through your teeth and make a noncommittal noise. Alicia throws her hands up.

“Babe. You will get snatched if you go.”

“Not necessarily! Besides, if I go, then I know who sent this to me and can like…confront them or something,” you defend.

“Or you could take this to Price and report it,” Alicia deadpans, ever the voice of reason. You wave her off. She rolls her eyes and stands, bumping your shoulder. “Whatever. I’m heading out, my girlfriend’s waiting for me. Please try not to get kidnapped?”

“I’ll do my best,” you reply and give her a peck on the cheek.

But there are no guarantees in your line of work, and this is no exception. You narrow your eyes at the note. Bring it on.

You came. Holy shit this is farther than Simon thought he’d get. His palms feel sweaty. Did it get hot out all of a sudden?

“Ghost, you gotta calm down, mate,” Gaz whispers, motioning at him to breathe.

“I’m fine,” Simon snaps. You’re right there, turning every so often, peering into the dark with that look of concentration he loves on you. He can imagine the way your nose wrinkles and the way your tongue pokes between your teeth.

Simon shakes himself. Get it together, soldier.

“Alright, it’s go time!” Johnny whispers, and nudges Simon out of the shadows. “Go get ‘er LT!”

Simon takes one last deep breath and starts across the field to you.

Whoever invited you here is fuckin’ late. You’ve always been of the mind that early is on time and on time is late, which is most people’s opinion here anyway. And the note said 2100 hours! It’s coming up on 2105 now.

The note didn’t even name a meeting place, either, just coordinates that led to the massive oak tree behind the shooting range. Which isn’t suspicious at all. You turn in a slow circle every so often—head on a swivel and all that. While you were all bravado with Alicia earlier, you were a little tiny bit worried that maybe something would happen. You made sure to bring your bear mace with you, in the end. Just in case.

You’re about to call it quits and head back when a huge meaty hand falls on your shoulder.

Before you can blink you’ve whipped around, depressing what has to be half the canister on your attacker. They crumple, and you take the chance to plant your hands on their shoulders and your knee in their balls, sending them into the dirt. You take off running. Your heart climbs into your throat. Holy shit, Alicia was right!

You’re so caught up in your escape that you don’t notice where you’re going until you run smack into a barrel chest. Strong hands catch your arms and hold you upright.

“Woah, woah, lass! What was that?” It’s Soap, and he’s staring at you with a mix of horror and confusion. You see Gaz sprint off in the corner of your eye.

You’re out of breath. “I-I got this weird-ass note earlier,” you try to explain, “and it said to come out here? But it didn’t say who it was from and ‘Licia was worried I’d get kidnapped, and then that creep showed up—”

“That’s not a creep, that’s fuckin’ Ghost!”

“Huh?” You twist, and sure enough, Gaz is helping Ghost’s hulking form off the ground, supporting him as he struggles against the effects of the mace. Fuck.

Gaz and Simon stagger over. “We need to get him to medical,” Gaz says. You bury your face in your hands.

You sit awkwardly on a stool next to Ghost’s cot as the nurses irrigate his face. Price, Gaz, and Soap hover in the corner, talking quietly amongst themselves and occasionally looking over at you. You’d shown them the note Ghost had apparently given you.

Eventually the nurses leave Ghost be for a minute, and that’s when Price jumps in.

“Okay,” he starts, then turns to you. “Watch, you aren’t being stalked. Ghost wanted to give you a valentine rather than actually talk to you, against our advice.” Then he turns to Ghost. “Simon. Why.”

Ghost shrugs and frowns down at his lap. “You all said that valentines are ‘sposed to be secret. I knew she’d recognize my handwriting, so I improvised.”

“And you didn’t think that maybe you could just type something up?” Gaz asks. Simon shrugs again, but you can tell he’s blushing under the mask.

“Soap said handmade ones are better,” he admits quietly. The group turns to Soap. He gapes.

“Oh, like this is my fault,” he grumbles.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” Simon says, addressing you directly for the first time. “I just wanted…” He trails off, glares down at his lap.

“I’m sorry for macing you,” you tell him. “And for kneeing you in the balls.” Price facepalms beside you and you scramble to think of something else. “I—I liked the dog sticker, though!”

“Yeah?” Simon glances up at you. You can tell he’s grinning, and you smile back.

“Yeah,” you say. “Put him in my notebook.” The both of you sit there, smiling at each other like idiots.

“All right, ye two, tone it down,” Johnny chimes in, and Gaz elbows him. Price rolls his eyes and herds them out. You watch them leave, then turn back to Ghost. He’s picking at his cuticles, a rare show of vulnerability.

“Simon?” you say before you can overthink it.

“Mm?” He looks up at you. A stray sunbeam touches his face, turning his puffy, red-rimmed eyes into melted chocolate. You feel yourself flush.

“Would you…maybe want to go to dinner sometime?” you ask. Simon straightens on the tiny cot, and yeah, he’s really smiling now. Your heart kicks up a few notches.

“I’d love to,” he says. “Please don’t bring the mace.”

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

perfectly imperfect.

summary: steve harrington comes into your campus workplace and flirts with you every chance he gets. after months of turning him down, you finally give in and decide to give him a try. after all, he’s the hottest ticket on campus among the girls, so there has to be something to it. right? 

word count: 3.5k

warnings/notes: smut, breast play, oral sex (brief; f receiving), grinding, handjob, premature ejaculation, catching feelings 

a/n: this is a college au with steve, based on a dream i had! i’m thinking he’s probably right around the age he was in season 4, so that would make him around 19-20 in this fic. as always, reader is 18+ and sorry if anything like this has been done before! i don’t have time to read fic much anymore, so i don’t know what is out there. i hope y’all enjoy!

also shoutout to my bestie @andvys for suggesting I write this dream as a one shot! ily and thank you for everything 🥺

_____

“what would you recommend, babe?”

you had to suppress an eye roll at the nickname. it was nothing new with steve harrington; every time he walked into the cafe where you worked, it was always the same old song and dance. he would walk in, smile at you, flirt, ask what you recommended, and would eat or drink it while sneaking the occasional glance at you. he was a blessing and a curse that you just couldn’t escape, not even outside of work. you had two classes with him–World History and Foundations Mathematics–and he would try to chat you up then, too. you knew his reputation around campus wasn’t a very good one; he was quite the player, apparently. you overheard girls talking about him at work and in class, talking about the time they had with him and how he never called or spoke much to them when he was done. you weren’t about that sort of life, but you had to admit you were growing curious about him. he had to be good if he was getting around and getting a reputation; the girls never said he was terrible. in fact, the opposite was true. you had been on many dates since you started going to college two years ago, but nothing ever stuck. you were mostly having flings yourself, but at least you let those down easily and didn’t just leave them hanging like he did. 

“i recommend what i always do every time you come in here,” you said. “the scones are good today; get one of those.”

“i think i have an appetite for something else,” he said, eyeing you up and down. “i think i want to experience something a little sweeter.”

“you think you’re really smooth, don’t you?” you asked, chuckling. “do you realize how many guys come in with the same line every day?”

“damn, i’ve got competition?” he asked, shaking his head. “here i thought i was special.”

“oh, you’re special, all right,” you said, grabbing a scone and putting it on a paper plate. “i don’t think you realize just how special you are.”

“well, that’s a relief,” steve said, digging in his pockets for money. “i really wish you’d go out with me, though.”

“why?” you asked. “so you could fuck me and leave me, like you do all the rest?”

he shook his head. “no, it would be different with you. you’re different.”

you laughed, shaking your own head. “how many women have you used that line on?”

“come on, harrington,” someone said from behind him. “i want my coffee.”

“just a minute,” he said, leaning in close to you. “one date. we don’t even have to have sex, if that isn’t what you want. just give me a chance.”

you eyed the line behind him, and knew there was no getting out of it this time. he wasn’t going to let up until you gave in, apparently. you sighed, rolling your eyes before meeting his. “fine. one date and i’m calling the shots.”

“thank you,” he said. “that’s all i wanted.”

“yeah, i’m sure,” you said. “it’s two dollars for the scone.”

he handed you two one dollar bills and a ten. “a little tip for you, babe.”

you went to hand it back, but he was already gone, the line moving forward as you were forced to be professional yet again.

****

the night of the date came faster than you wanted. he had pestered you about it every day in class and at work, until you finally set it for the following friday night. you were off work and didn’t have many classes that day, so you thought it would be perfect. it would give you a chance to get ready, to prepare yourself, and to brace for what might happen. you’d been giving it a lot of thought since he’d asked, and you decided that maybe you wanted to sleep with him, after all. you would see how the date went first, of course, but you had no reason to expect that it would be bad. steve seemed like a decent enough guy; he was just a playboy. most men his age were, though, especially college frat boys, so you didn’t know what else you honestly expected. 

you spent most of the afternoon working on yourself, and when the date finally came, he came to your room to pick you up. he couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful you looked, and you had to admit that he looked handsome, too. he was wearing a light blue button-up shirt that was done up to just below his neck, showing off a spray of chest hair underneath and accenting his muscular arms. he wore blue jeans that were nice and not torn, brown dress shoes, and his hair was done up in its usual fashion. he looked damn good; even you had to admit that. you followed him as he walked, and he offered you his arm after a little bit. you took it, feeling your heart flutter as you did so. you had already decided, upon seeing him, that you were going to sleep with him. you couldn’t wait to break the news to him at the end of the night.

he took you to a nice restaurant just off campus, an classy little italian place that served the best food. you’d been there a few times, but never on a date. steve paid for everything, and when you were both walking back to campus, you decided to spring the news on him. you stopped walking and he did, too, giving you a puzzled look. you just smiled at him, hugging yourself for a moment before walking over and standing directly in front of him.

“so i made a decision,” you said. “one that i think you’re going to like.”

“what decision is that?” he asked.

“i think i wanna sleep with you tonight,” you said. “if you’re up for it, i mean.”

“i’m always up for that,” he said with a chuckle. “but why the sudden change of heart? you seemed pretty adamant to not sleep with me before now.”

you shrugged. “i guess i couldn’t live with myself if i passed up on steve harrington.”

he laughed. “well, i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if i passed up the most beautiful girl on campus, either.”

your cheeks heated at that, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze. “so…it’s on, then?”

“it’s on,” he said. “where should we go? my roommate is out with his girlfriend tonight, so my room might be the best bet.”

“okay,” you said. “let’s go there, then.” 

he walked you to his dorm building and up to his room, which was, in fact, empty. it was a little messy, with clothes strewn about the floor, fast food wrappers on the desks, beer bottles hidden not-so-skillfully under the two beds, and posters of half-naked women adorning the walls. you had to resist rolling your eyes for the millionth time; it was such a typical guy room that it was almost hilarious. steve walked over to the bed on the right, sitting down and gesturing for you to do the same. he kicked off his shoes and you did the same, taking a seat next to him as he turned to face you.

“is it bad that i’m a little nervous?” he asked.

you looked at him, shocked. “you, nervous? why would you be nervous?”

he shrugged. “i don’t know. i guess because i’m not used to being with a beautiful woman like you.”

“yeah, and how many girls have heard that?”

“come on, i’m being serious.”

“so am i.”

“i’ve never really used that on someone. you’re the first.”

“wow, i feel special.”

he put one finger under your chin, tilting your head toward him. “you are special, though. at least you are to me.”

“yeah, yeah,” you said. “are we doing this or not?”

“yeah,” he said, drawing you in closer. “come here.”

he put his lips to yours, kissing you gently at first. it stayed like that for a little bit, his lips working softly against yours as you followed his lead. soon, though, he was kissing you a little harder, his tongue pressing between your lips as they met. he mewled softly, grabbing your hips and pulling you into his lap. you straddled him, cupping his face as he kissed you more heavily. you whined, kissing him deeper as he began bucking his hips into yours. you picked up on his cue, grinding against him as you continued to make out. he groaned, grabbing your ass and guiding your movements. you moaned as well, continuing to move on him as he kissed you harder.

“fuck,” he said against your lips. “that feels so good.”

“you’re already getting hard,” you observed. “i can feel it.”

“i can’t help it,” he said. “you just have that effect on me.”

“oh yeah?” you asked, smirking at him as you leaned down to kiss his neck. “well, i feel pretty flattered, then.”

“i really wanna get your clothes off,” he said, tilting his head back to give you more room. “can i?”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “not yet. i wanna keep doing this for a little bit first.”

“you’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?” he asked with a groan. 

you nodded. “that’s right.”

“you’re such a tease,” he said. “but that’s okay, i like it.”

“oh you do, huh?” you asked, toying with the buttons on his shirt.

“hey, i thought you said we had to wait.”

“i said you had to wait. i didn’t say anything about me.”

“that hardly seems fair.”

“i’m the one calling the shots here tonight, remember?”

that quieted him, and he mumbled a word of permission. you giggled, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing him back on the bed. you started kissing down the middle of his chest, down his stomach to the top of his jeans, and then slowly back up. his breathing was slightly heavier as you worked on him, and he drew you in for a passionate kiss as you came back up. he pulled you on top of him again, where you resumed grinding him for the moment. his hands squeezed your ass, kneading the flesh there as you rocked against him. you whined, moving a little faster as he gasped against your lips.

“you’re gonna make me cum already if you keep doing that,” he said. “please, can i take your clothes off?”

you giggled, nodding. “fine. but not the bra or the panties yet.”

he eagerly removed your shirt and pants, discarding them to the floor with the rest of the clothes. he studied your body with hungry eyes, his pupils enlarging as he took in every detail. you couldn’t help but flush under his gaze, your cheeks hot as he studied you. you pushed him back down, kissing him hungrily, your hips moving again as he slapped your ass. you laughed against his lips and you could feel him smiling, so you kept going. after a minute, steve’s hands found the back of your bra, playing with the clasp. you smiled, knowing that you’d tormented him enough, and you drew back to grin at him.

“you can take it off now,” you said.

“i can?” he asked.

“yep,” you said. “go ahead.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. he practically ripped the garments from your body, taking in every detail of your body as he did so. he licked his lips as he studied you, his eyes moving from head to toe and back again. your cheeks turned hot under his gaze, and you reached out to pull him closer. he went easily, his body pressed flush to yours as you chuckled.

“I think it’s your turn now,” you said. “it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

he nodded, hastily doing away with his clothes. as he did to you, you observed him from top to bottom, your eyes remaining glued on his cock. he was bigger than you expected, with good girth and even better length. a large vein ran up the underside, and his tip was pink and already oozing precum. you reached out to stroke him, and his lashes fluttered as he moaned under your touch. he looked at you with heavy eyes, his lips parted as his cheeks began to flush. you smirked at him, flicking your wrist as his body jerked slightly.

“who has the power now, huh?” you asked.

“you do,” he said, rutting into your hand. “god..”

“you know what I want you to do?” you asked.

“anything,” he said. “i’ll do anything you want.”

“i want you to eat me out,” you said.

“can i?” he asked. “please?”

“mmm hmm,” you said. “go ahead.”

steve turned you over so that you were lying flat on his bed. he kissed your neck, stopping at your breasts to give them some attention. he kissed over each one, sucking one nipple feverishly as he rubbed the other with his fingers. you moaned softly, grabbing his hair and giving it a slight tug as he, too, moaned. you giggled, running your fingers through his hair as he continued to work. he shivered, his eyes trailing up to look at you as he sucked your nipple a bit harder. you arched your back, bucking your hips impatiently as he trailed one hand down your body. he ran his fingers over your clit, barely ghosting it as you gasped. he smirked against your skin, his fingers ghosting your folds next. you wanted to slap him for being such a tease, but it felt so good that you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

“you’re so hot,” he said, his hands coming up to squeeze your breasts. he moaned as he watched your nipples harden even more, his thumbs circling them. “the hottest girl i’ve ever seen.”

“oh yeah?” you asked, whining as he started kissing his way down your body. “am i hotter than all those other girls you’ve been with, or did you use that line on them, too?”

“no, just you,” he said, winking up at you as he knelt between your legs. “i swear it’s just you. i told you, you’re different.”

you wanted to roll your eyes, but you didn’t. you were curious as to what he would be like, and now wasn’t the time to offend him or piss him off. you would take him at his word for now; it’s all you could do. you watched as he kissed your inner thighs, painfully slow, and as he kissed around your mound, also painfully slow. he was kissing anywhere and everywhere but where you really wanted him, and you almost pushed his head there. but you didn’t want to do that, so you waited, letting him get it out of his system. he did it again, a little faster, and then finally he was right where you wanted him.

his mouth felt like heaven, and it was a feeling that you’d never felt before with anyone else. his tongue was like velvet, wet and soft and perfect. he lapped at your folds lazily, using the tip of his tongue at first to tease you further. you moaned, sitting up on your elbows to watch him as he looked up at you. he groaned as he pressed his full tongue against you, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit and then back down. he did the same motion a few times, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. you arched, falling back on the bed and writhing as he sucked harder.

‘steve…” you moaned. “that feels so good.”

“oh yeah?” he asked, and you could feel him smirking against you. “you think it feels pretty good, huh?”

“yeah,” you said. “you’re good at this.”

his smirk widened, and soon he was fucking you on his tongue. he replaced that with his fingers after a few minutes, paying attention to your clit as he sucked again. his tongue swirled the small bud, moaning against it to add vibration. you gasped and bucked your hips, feeling the tightness beginning to settle in your lower stomach. you didn’t think you’d be so close already, but it had been awhile since you’d gotten off–with yourself or with anyone else. you were pent up, and it was about to come to a head very soon.

“i’m close already,” you told him. “please keep going.”

“already, huh?” he asked, grinning up at you.

“don’t flatter yourself,” you said. “it’s just been awhile.”

“sure,” he said, winking at you. “i’ll take your word for it.”

he kept going, fucking you harder on his fingers and sucking your clit harder. he shook his head back and forth, his eyes on you as he kept going. it only took a few more minutes before you were falling apart, cumming hard as you cried out his name. he kept going as you experienced your high, going slower and more gentle, watching as you arched your back, writhed, and tugged at his hair. he moaned, stopping once you came down from your high. he sat back and looked at you, and you could tell by the look on his face that he was proud of himself for what he’d just done.

“that’s a first,” he said. “usually i have to go for twenty minutes.”

“you poor thing,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “how ever will you survive?”

he chuckled, kissing his way back up your body. “you’re so sassy. i love it.”

“come here,” you said. “i wanna pretend to ride you.”

“pretend?” steve asked. “why not do it?”

“because i wanna make you work for it, that’s why,” you said, smirking at him. 

“but i’m about to burst already,” he nearly whined.

“now who’s the one who might cum too soon?” you teased. “come here.”

he lay back on the bed, tucking his arms behind his head. “okay, babe. i’m here. do whatever you want to me.”

you straddled him, positioning yourself over his erection. you began to grind against it, moaning at the heavy, throbbing feeling of him against you. he hissed, his hands coming out to grab at your hips. you kept going, gliding along him at a steady pace as he looked up at you. he leaned up after a few minutes and started sucking at your nipples, lying back against the pillows and pulling you with him after a moment. you moaned, biting your lip as you started moving a little faster.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he said, and you could tell that he was right. he was twitching, his cock throbbing against you as you continued to glide. “please.”

you giggled, getting off of him and taking his cock into your hand. “tell me what you want.”

“I—“ he began, but it was soon over. he came all over your hand, his body in spasms as he bucked into your hand. he squeezed his eyes shut, digging the heels of his hands into them as he came down from his high. “fuck, I knew that was gonna happen.”

you chuckled, holding your hand up to your mouth. “look at me, steve.”

he did so, looking at you with heavy eyes. you started licking the cum off of your hand, making eye contact with him as you did so. he moaned as he watched, and pulled you down for a kiss after you were done. you lay next to him, snuggling against him as he held you close. it was silent, save for steve’s heavy breathing, and you opened your mouth to say something. he beat you to it.

“wow,” he said. “i never…that’s never happened to me before.”

“no?” you asked. “never? not once?”

“no,” he said, shaking his head. “i think it’s because i like you so much.”

you looked up at him. “you do?”

“I do,” he said. “you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, y/n. i think I wanna keep you.”

you smile at him, leaning up to kiss him. “you wanna know something?”

“what?” he asked, brushing some hair out of your eyes.

you kissed him again, a bit more passionately. “I think i wanna keep you, too.” 

—

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[michanvalentine]

One thing I absolutely love about Astarion’s redemption arc is the complexity of his relationship with the figure of the hero.

Astarion is a vampire, a monster, and also a victim (as well as, in a way, a perpetrator, due to his forced obedience to Cazador). He is the first person in desperate need of a hero to save him and the last person suited for the role of a hero.

He prayed to every god for salvation, even for death, and even that was denied to him. He resents heroes and the powerful, and when confronted with the idea that both have a duty to protect the weak, he scornfully responds that no, they’ve done a terrible job—that in 200 years, no one saved him from torture, and that it was the mind flayers, other monsters, who finally freed him. And that, in reality, the powerful only use their strength to bend others to their will and serve their own selfish interests. It’s in this same conversation that Astarion declares his desire to be better than Cazador—stronger, more powerful—though the player likely meant kinder, more noble.

Yet, despite everything he says, despite his disapproval of every heroic action taken in Act 1, Astarion is irreversibly drawn to the figure of the hero. First and foremost, he seeks their protection, though still through the warped lens of his past under Cazador’s cruel talons. Secondly, he is extremely sensitive to kindness, understanding, acceptance—to being treated like a person, just as a true hero would treat him.

And then, this is something I particularly noticed while playing as Karlach—Astarion is fascinated by Wyll, who is, in many ways, the quintessential hero of the party. He even admits that if he had to choose one of them to feed on, it would be Wyll, because he is sweet and righteous, just. Which is a contradiction, because the very traits that draw Astarion to him are the same ones that make him want to drain him dry. Love and hate, all in one.

With this in mind, even the conversation after meeting Aurelia and Leon takes on a deeper meaning. The player sees something in Astarion, but he still refuses to recognize it, to admit it, and rightfully says he can’t be what we see in him—a good person, a righteous, understanding, even heroic figure. And yet, the player sees through him…

And it’s breathtaking when, during the ritual, just before stabbing Cazador, Astarion says those very same words: "You're right. I can be better than him." But this time, he doesn’t mean stronger or more powerful. No, this time, he means it exactly as it was first presented to him and so bitterly rejected. And he means it with all his heart.

And in doing so, in freeing all his siblings and all the poor souls imprisoned there, Astarion commits a truly heroic act. He does for others what he once desperately hoped for himself, what he prayed for—becoming the hero he needed. Because at the same time, he is freeing himself—from his chains, from his narrow worldview that saw everything in terms of power and dominance. For the first time, he is free to live outside of the path that someone else forced upon him.

And that’s exactly why, in my opinion, the next morning, it’s right to tell him that yes, we were the heroes who stood by his side, but we only gave him a push. Because, in the end, he saved himself.

He is the hero he had been waiting for centuries!

And that thought makes my heart race! ❤️