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luvyeni · 2 days ago

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DARK VALENTINE 𝕼. ( 박종성 )

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 박종성 x fem!reader ) ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. yandere, unhealthy relationships, dollification, oral sex (m), unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink word count. 4k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library !

synopsis … today of all days was a special one for him; today he was gonna make it so you relied on him forever and on jays favorite day out of the entire year… valentines day …

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ THIS IS DARK CONTENT. please don’t read if you don’t like it . Also happy Valentine’s Day

you established long ago that your relationship with your boyfriend jay probably wasn't the healthiest relationship you could be in; but you were too far gone. 4 long years trapped in his web of love bombing to even get out of the situation — and you didn’t even know if you wanted out anymore.

in the beginning you tried your best to leave him; but he had a way with you, a hold on your mind that made you come back every single time without missing a beat.

jay did everything; he made the money, bought your clothes that he dressed you himself in every day, he did your hair the way he liked. he didn’t allow you to wear makeup unless it was a special occasion, but even then it was to his liking. you were his doll; he was training you to only rely on him, and that you did and he loved it as sick as it was.

and today of all days was a special one for him; today he was gonna make it so you relied on him forever and on jays favorite day out of the entire year… valentines day; the day of love. “wake up princess.”

he kissed your cheek; your stomach slowly rising up and down as you slept next to him. the pink nightgown he dressed you in the night before rising up your thighs. “it’s time to get up princess.” his hands resting on your stomach; the carnal urge to straddle you and push his hard dick inside you, breeding you over and over until you’re cunt dripping with his cum. “fuck.” he groaned out, not yet he thought he had to wait , he had the whole day planned for this special day — he’ll get his time in due time.

“baby wake up.” his hand that was on your stomach; now making its way down to your lower region , your eyes began to flutter open. “that’s it baby.” he cupped your heat. “jong-jongie.” your stuttered he moved your panties to the side. “you’re so wet down here, did you dream about daddy while you were sleeping?” he pushed his finger inside you. “answer me.”

“ye-yes.” you moaned out, he rewarded you by adding a second finger. “yes what princess?” you knew what he wanted , and he was gonna get it. “ye-yes daddy.” he curled his fingers inside you. “you’re gonna cum for me okay?” he sped his fingers up. “gonna cum for me so we can get you ready for the day.” you nodded. “cum now.” and just like always; on his command you came all over his fingers. “jongie!” you moaned loudly and he’d calmed you down. “so loud princess , the neighbors are gonna hear and give us a noise complaint.

“mmh , so-sorry jongie.” you tried to catch your breath. “good girl.” he said. “let’s get up to get ready.” you whined. “but i'm tired.” and just for a moment, you saw the darkening of his eyes, the clenching of his jaw — this is what made you feel uncomfortable around him sometimes; scared even. “get up.”

the change in his voice made you raise up quickly, but not quick enough to make him know that you were scared of him, he hated it when you acted like you were afraid of him. his hand coming from in between your legs, pushing his fingers into your mouth. “good girl.” he pushed his fingers down on your tongue. “that’s my girl , you listen so well.” he chuckled. “If you keep listening, today could be a really good one.” you nodded. “ok-okay jongie.”

“time for a shower baby.” he held your hand walking you into the bathroom. “arms up baby.” grabbing the hems of your nightgown, pulling it over your head , he turned the shower on making sure it was at the perfect temperature. “come on , let’s get in.”

he waited for you to get in before he got in, the water cascading down your body. “you look so pretty princess.” his hands massaging all over your body. “thank you jongie.” he smiled , the way your eyes were always glazed over , wide. your mind empty from everyday worries except jay. “i have a lot planned for today.” you felt him pressing himself against you; the burn in your stomach coming back. “we’re gonna take a trip out today.” your eyes lit up; this was rare — almost nonexistent.

he almost never let you out. “it’s too dangerous out there princess , it’s not safe.” he always said; at first you complained, you even tried to leave a few times, only to be met with grave consequences. now you don’t even ask, not because you’re scared , but because it doesn’t really appease you to leave anymore , but days like this, special occasions when he let you go , you couldn’t help but get excited — that was probably the rational part of your brain letting you know that this wasn’t normal and that you needed to leave.

“don’t look to excited baby , it will make me think you’re trying to leave.” you nodded. “no jongie , never.” you felt him grinding against you. “fuck.” he groaned , looking at where your bodies met , his hard cock in between your ass. “da-daddy i need you.” he groaned. “not yet , baby that’s for later.” he said , pulling you close to him , bringing his hand to your clit , running circles. “but you can cum , cum on my fingers.” he whispered in your ears. “be a good doll and cum.” he could easily just slide his dick inside you and fuck you , but he wanted to wait , he needed to practice self control — but that was hard when you were grinding your ass against his cock , and cumming all over his fingers. “daddy.”

he pulled away; kissing your cheek. “good girl, you cum so well for daddy.” he grabbed your sponge , and his favorite scented soap on you. “let’s get you cleaned up.” he began washing your body; you wanted to tell him you could do it , you were an adult who could clean themselves, but the other side of you told you this was perfectly fine. “you smell so nice, baby.” he said, inhaling your scent. “just how i want you to.”

he already had the clothes he wanted you to wear picked out from the night before. “this is just to wear for now , later on you’ll wear something more pretty.” he helped you into your clothes , fixing your hair , making sure it was up to his standards. “we’re done now , let me quickly get dressed , and then we can leave for our breakfast.”

after he got dressed , the two of you were off to your favorite breakfast place — after all it was valentines day. “here you go baby.” he pulled the chair out from the table letting you sit down. “today you can pick whatever you want , only because it’s a special day.” you silently nodded, just as a waiter came over. “hello.” he looked at you. “hi.” you waved, jay didn’t like that. “excuse me can you just take the order.” you held your head down. “jongseong.”

“of-of course.” the waiter stuttered out; you can tell he was scared, the man before you was very intimidating, he was held at a high status and you could tell he was by the way he carried himself. “what can i do for both of you?”

the waiter left and he followed him with his eyes; he could easily get that kid fired if he wanted. “there’s no need to do anything irrational.” you spoke at a low tone , anyone else wouldn’t have been able to hear you , but jay could — and he was upset. “i-im just saying — are you defending him right now?” he asked. “no of course not im just saying this is a good day , it’s valentines day , your favorite day.” you quickly said. “don’t let a stupid waiter ruin it.” you felt bad for calling him stupid , he was just doing his job; but that was nothing compared to an angry jay. “let’s just enjoy our breakfast.”

jay kept a close eye on you while you ate; wiping your mouth when you get some on your face, glaring at the waiter every time he came over to simply ask if you were okay , or if you wanted the bill. “you can bring us the bill.” he said , disdain in his voice. “can’t wait to get out of here.” he said , annoyed; but he didn’t let take over him — because it soon won’t matter if someone tries to flirt with you because they’ll know who you belong to. “now princess , let’s go to your favorite place.”

the mall; you loved the mall — so many stores and places, and people. no you couldn’t talk to them and jay did most of the shopping for you , but just being around it all made you happy. “you need some new jewelry , let’s go see if we can find something good.” he held your hand tightly as you walked around to the many luxury stores. “you need another j pendent don’t you , let’s get you a better one then the one you have now.”

“can we go into that store?” you pointed to a random store. “maybe another day , maybe your birthday.” he said , you frowned , he squeezed your hand , but it didn’t seem like a comforting one — but one silently telling you to fix your face and be good , which you did. “we can go there instead, you like that store don’t you?” no you didn’t but you didn’t say anything. “yes jongie , i do.”

after shopping for a while , he held all the bags in his hand as you made your way back to the car. “time to go home and get dressed for our valentines day dinner.” he said , you smiled nodding. “you like the sound of that princess?” he smiled, hand on your thigh protectively.

“how about you go take a shower alone today princess.” your eyes widened a bit; it had been a while since you were able to do that. “s-seriously?” you asked , thinking he was messing with you, that small voice inside you telling you that it was normal for an adult to bathe themself in this day in age , you were an adult. “yes princess , go ahead while i pick a pretty outfit for my doll to wear tonight.”

you spent a while in the shower; letting the water hit your body , it was silent which you liked , but it did feel weird, not having the man pressed up against you, feeling you up or anything. “baby speed this up , we have to be at the restaurant soon.” he opened the door calling inside. “okay.” you said turning the water off , stepping out of the shower. “i picked the prettiest dress for my princess.” he had everything laid out , down to the hair accessories. “come on let’s get you dressed.”

everything was perfect , you looked just how he imagined , but he knew it would work out because you were perfect and he knew what he was doing. “you look dazzling darling.” he came up from behind you , his cock still hard from the early morning. “so so pretty.” he slowly zipped the dress up. “can’t wait to have you on my cock later.” his hands falling to your waist , you whimpered. “ja-jay.” your body moved on its own , he growled in your ear. “stop moving.” you forced your body to stop. “good girl.” he said , lightly tapping your ass , bending down to slid your heels on the your feet. “perfect.” he said , eyeing the brand new gold j necklace hanging in between your breast. “Let’s go.”

the two of you make your way to the restaurant , his hands on your thigh as the driver pulled into the very expensive restaurant. “we’re here.” the driver said , jay reaching over to take your seat belt off , getting a whiff of the perfume he bought you earlier that day. “let’s go princess , we’re already a little late.” he said. “will they let us in?” you asked , he smirked. “well if they want to stay open of course they will.”

he guides you to the restaurant; holding the door open for you. “thank you.” hands resting on your lower back as you make your way to the hostess. “reservation for park.” he said. “of course this way.” she guided you through the restaurant to a private booth. “here’s your table , someone will be over to take your order , enjoy your meal.” she walked away. “this is beautiful.”

you sat across from each other. “this booth was the most expensive booth in the entire store.” he said. “you didn’t have to do that.” he scoffed. “of course i did , im a man baby and a man should be able to take care of what’s theirs.” he said , his voice deep , you could tell he was slowly losing himself. “and that’s what you are right princess , all mine?” his eyes burning into your skin waiting for your answer. “ye-yes.” he smiled , sitting up straight. “good.”

dinner went by pretty fast; jay spent half the time feeding you all the food they brought out. “i don’t think i can eat anymore.” you said , he put the fork down. “you have to save some room for dessert.” he said. “i called in to make sure they made your favorite.” that really put in perspective of how powerful he was , you knew for a fact this restaurant didn’t sell your favorite dessert , but he made one phone call and was able to get it done. “thank you jay.” he called over the waiter to him know he was ready for dessert. “you’re gonna love it.”

this was the time; it was finally happening right now — he was gonna ask you to marry him; to be his wife, he knew you’d never say no, you were his no doubt , but this ring solidified that for him; that you would never leave him. “here it is.”

the waiter sat the dessert in front of you. “thank you.” the waiter quickly walked away. “open it.” he said , the ring was stored in a velvety black box in his pocket. you took the top off the plate , your favorite dessert sitting on the plate, decorated nicely. “this looks perfect jongie.” he waited anxiously for you to notice the writing in the chocolate. “oh?”

this is , he watched you read the words on the plate. “you want me to marry you?” his eyes light up , but you , your mind was racing. you brain split in two; one telling you yes , the other telling you no , that you need to run for your fucking life. “will you? will you be mine forever.” you watched as he presented the beautifully customized ring , which cost thousands you were sure. “oh jongie.” you said looking down at the plate , then at the ring. “i don’t know what to say.” he smiled. “well you say yes of course.” you weren’t sure , but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was serious — you better say yes. “of course i’ll marry you.”

he stood up, making his way to your side of the table, bending down , holding your hand. “I knew you would.” he said , sliding the expensive ring on your finger. “my pretty princess come here.” he lifted you up , wrapping his arms around you. “i love you so much.” he said. “so so much.”

after finishing your desserts, and the complimentary bottle of champagne they gave you , it was time to go home. “you ready?” you nodded , he held your hand. “let’s go home so i can give you the last thing i prepared for you.” he whispered in your ear. “been waiting all day for you, i don’t plan going easy on you tonight.” he guided you out the restaurant where the driver was waiting. “good evening mrs. park.” he bowed , holding the door open for the both of you. “i don’t think im used to that.”

jay got in after you, shutting the door. “you will be.” he said , the driver getting in the car. “can you turn the music up.” jay said , closing the partition. “he’s gonna hear , but i could not give a fuck.” he said unbuckling his pants. “daddy has been so good to you today.” he said , pulling them down along with his pants. “it’s about time you pay him back isn’t it.” his tanned cock slapping against his stomach. “come on and put it in your mouth.”

you wrap your hand around his cock , stroking it. “fu-fuck.” he moaned out. “that ring looks perfect on your hand.” his hand coming up to your neck , to grab your hair. “come on suck it.” you brought your lips to his leaky tip , you slowly opened your mouth , he pushed your head down on him. “oh fuck!” he loudly groaned. “that’s it suck my dick princess , just like daddy taught you.” his arm spread out across the seat of the car , his other hand pushing down on your head. “such a good cock sucker.” he bucked up into your mouth , his cock brushing that back of your throat. “gag on it.” he held you down , the music definitely not drowning out the messy noises coming from your mouth. “ugh fuck , keep gagging on my dick.”

he couldn’t hold it anymore, he needed to breed you. “fuck hurry up and get home now.” he ushered the driver who heard everything , speeding up on the gas. “shit baby im gonna cum.” he groaned , cock twitching in your mouth. “want you to swallow all my fucking cum.” he ordered. “fuck , im gonna cum.” he bucked up into you. “fuck!” you felt his load shooting to the back of throat. “take it , take it all.”

he finished just in time , the driver pulled into your complex; jay pulled up his pants, your face was messy. “good girl.” he said , fixing the strap on your dress. “but we’re not done let’s go.” he didn’t even bother to say anything to the traumatized driver , basically dragging you back to your condo. “fuck the neighbors tonight.” he said. “tonight they’re gonna hear me breed your pussy.”

once you made it back to your apartment he was already gone , eyes dark and breathing heavily — this is the jay that scared you, the unpredictable jay. “jong-jongie maybe — is that my fucking name?” he said darkly. “you know my fucking name.” it was like he was finally showing his true self. “say my name.” he said. “say it now slut.” he cursed. “da-daddy.” his hand coming to your neck , squeezing. “good slut princess.” he said. “let’s go to the bedroom.”

once you made to your room , your dress already unzipped. “undress yourself.” you obeyed , letting the maroon dress fall to the floor. “come here.” he took the belt from his pants. “daddy loves you.” he said , grabbing your hands , pulling them to the front. “but he’s about to fuck you like he hates you.”

he undid your bra , letting your boobs bounce with freedom. “fuck you’re so fucking pretty.” he pushed you down on the bed. “open.” he slapped your thighs , forcing them open. “jongie , too rough.” he scoffed. “you can fucking take it.” he yanked your panties down your legs. “can’t you?” you nodded , he threw your panties across the room. “fuck look at how wet you are.” he cursed , your sopping wet cunt on display. “pretty pussy looking real breedable today.”

jay always wanted kids, to be a father; to have a family to take care of. nice place , hot fiancé and all the money he could spend , and all he needed to complete his perfect life , is children to pass down his legacy to — and you were gonna be the one to give it to him. “fuck.” he said , grabbing your bond wrist , sliding his thick length into your warm cunt. “daddy.” you moaned out. “god i fucking love you.” he pulled out , slamming himself back inside you; bottoming out immediately. “perfect pussy.”

he began to move his hips with an inhumane speed. normally he was as soft as he could be, unless he was punishing you for acting up — but here, on his favorite day, valentines day; he had one last goal in mind… breeding his new wife. “gonna fuck you so full -shit- so full of my cum.” your eyes were rolled to the back of your head. “go-gonna give me a couple of cute babies.” he grunted. “keep you pregnant so you can’t leave me.” your boobs bouncing harshly. “can’t wait to see those filled with milk and all swollen.” he grabbed the headboard as he fucked into you. “tell how good you feel.”

“so-so good.” you loudly moaned, you were 100% sure the neighbors were gonna complain , but jay didn’t care , he knew with the new baby he was soon gonna move you out of the apartment and put you up in a nice house , that you can make into a home. he trained you to be his perfect doll , now he’ll train you to be a perfect wife and mother — to serve him and obey him and take care of his children. “fuck princess gonna cum.”

hearing everything he said; you should’ve made him stop, to pull out; to listen to that goddamn voice inside your head telling you he was dangerous to run— but you didn’t , you didn’t tell him you didn’t want kids right now, you could no longer even hear the reasonable voice anymore, you were in love with jay; as sick as it was , you loved him and you wanted to be with him. “me too , please can i cum.”

“cum , cum for daddy.” he plowed into you. “fucking cum.” his hand wrapped around your neck. “im cumming!” you screamed out , legs shaking as he continued to fuck into you. “fucking shit.” he cursed , your cunt clenching around him. “go-gonna fucking cum.” he pressed himself closed to you , burying himself deep inside you. “fuck.” he held his head inside the crevice of your neck , biting down on his. “da-daddy.” you were shaking in his hold as he filled you to the point he was leaking out of you. “fu-fuck princess.” he sighed. “mine , all fucking mines.”

he didn’t bother pulling out because he wasn’t done with you. “you’ll look so good pregnant and in your wedding gown.” he said breathlessly , undoing the belt. “gonna make sure it takes tonight.” he whispered in your ear. “you’ll never be able to leave me.” he said. “my perfect doll , turned to my perfect wife.” his words sending shivers down your spine as he gave you one sharp thrust. “daddy.” you were too far gone.

“mine forever.”

©️LUVYENI

#enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen ff #jay park hard hours #jay park x reader #jay park smut #jay park scenarios #jay park fanfic

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prythiansprincess · 2 days ago

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── .✦ DAY ONE | [02/14] : THEO.

prythian's princess presents... day one of the valentine special ⋆.˚ .ᐟ first up, we have the love of my life and baby daddy; the one and only theo.

[breeding kink] — the experience of intense sexual attraction at the thought of being impregnated or impregnating someone.

[consensual non-consent] — a kink in which two consenting adults give permission to be forced into sexual acts before any sexual activity occurs.

home ✦ special ✦ more

theodore nott was the type of man that took what he wanted.

there was a quiet possession in him, a dominance that demanded submission. theo never thought that he would find that willingness in you. the pillars of your personality were built on independence, ambition, and success, but he learned that while you dominated all other aspects of your life, there was one place where you craved the relinquish of control — the bedroom.

your submission was a gift that theo treasured, especially because he knew that a lesser man would not have been able to earn it as he had. there was nothing more satisfying than knowing that he owned every piece of you so utterly and completely.

a sense of pride spread through theo’s chest as he entered the bedroom you shared and found you fast asleep in bed, so pretty and vulnerable as you curled up on his side of the bed, relishing in the scent of him that lingered on the pillows and sheets. theo smiled as he crawled in next to you. his lips dragged down your neck, sucking on the soft flesh and branding your skin with his kisses. theo hummed as he pulled you closer, big hands roaming all over your body, marveling at the feel of your creamy thighs and juicy ass and perfect tits. he pressed his already hard cock into your ass, grinding his erection against the warmth of your core.

the delicious friction it created was enough to have him rutting against you like the pre-pubescent version of himself might’ve done. theo couldn’t help it. you brought out a desperation in him, a delirium that sank its sharp claws into him until he succumbed to the need. theo used to fear his propensity to possess, to obsess, to consume, having been told all his life that it was wrong, it was unhealthy, but they just didn't understand him like you did.

even in your sleep, you melted into his touch as though you had been waiting for this all along. you wanted this. you wanted him.

theo groaned as his hand traveled down your torso, his breathing heavy and laden with desire as he slipped past the waistband of your pajama shorts and palmed you through your lace panties. stirring, you sleepily arched against theo, reaching for him even while you were unconscious. an animalistic growl crawled up his throat when he found you wet and ready for him.

wasting no time, theo yanked your panties to the side and positioned himself behind you, easing his cock into your entrance. a choked groan was all he could manage as he buried himself inside of you, so wet and warm and tight. his hand drifted up to your throat, anchoring himself in place as he thrusted up into you, fucking you with a desperation that consumed his entire being. this was what it meant to possess; to take what was rightfully his. with you, theo never had to deny himself ever again.

you stirred as he rutted into you, burying himself over and over again until his eyes rolled from the overwhelming pleasure. theo hushed you when you mumbled his name, placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

“take it, amore,” theo said in a rough, gravelly voice. “I know you want it. been waiting for me all night, haven’t you? just laying here, on my side of the bed, your face buried in my pillows, hoping that i’d come home and fuck you just like this.”

you moaned as his hips slapped against your ass. “always, theo,” you replied, half out of your mind from the pleasure. “I always want you.”

“so do I, principessa. needed you so much,” theo panted, his grip tightening on your neck. “i’ve been thinking about this all day. I want to claim you. I want to own you. I want to possess you.”

“you already do.”

“there’s more than one way to own someone,” theo grunted. “I want it all. fuck, m’gonna fill this pretty pussy with my cum until i’m dripping out of you for days. you want that, don’t you? just think of how pretty you’ll look pregnant. you’ll be such a great mother to our children. I won’t stop until I put my baby inside of you, cara mia.”

though you had never thought that you would want kids, being with theo had completely changed your mind. you wanted nothing more than to build a family with him, knowing that he would be an excellent father to your children.

“fuck, yes, please,” you breathed, eager to make his words a reality. “cum in me, baby. breed me, theo. I want to make you a dad.”

the thought of you pregnant, round and swollen with his child was enough to make theo lose all sense of self. thick ropes of cum pumped inside of you, filling your pretty cunt with his seed until it overflowed and dripped from your hole. never one for unnecessary waste, theo stuffed his cum back inside of you with a reverent expression.

“keep it all inside. you’ll need every drop to make you nice and pregnant,” murmured theo. “I can’t wait until you’re carrying my child. that way you’ll never leave me. there's no escaping me, amore. it's me and you."

you smiled as theo kissed your stomach, willing a child to grow in your fertile womb. "you’ll be mine, forever.”

#is this insane and unhinged? yes. would I still let him smash? also yes.#theo nott #theo nott smut #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theodore nott x you #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n

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ghostlyferrettarot · 2 days ago

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💕Pick a Picture: ༘⋆♡⸝⸝💌⊹。°˖➴Channeled letter from your Soulmate ༘⋆♡⸝⸝💌⊹。°˖➴

₊˚ʚ ₊💌˚✧ ﾟ🤍 𝓗𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓓𝓪𝔂₊˚ʚ ₊💌˚✧ ﾟ🤍

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

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🛸Masterlist🛸

ʚ🩷ɞ Pile 1:

"Hello, my love:

We haven't met yet in the time we know, but I feel your energy close by. Sometimes, in the quietest moments, I close my eyes and I can imagine what it will be like the first moment I see you, how everything will seem to align, as if everything has led to this very moment.

I want you to know something: I am already here, thinking of you, even though I can't show you yet. You may not see it, but I feel a little closer every day. And in this space, I want you to trust that everything you have lived, everything you have experienced, is leading me right to you. Your strength, your vulnerability, your moments of light and shadow... are building me a clear image of how wonderful you are.

So don't worry about when or how, because love comes when it has to. I promise it won't be rushed, or forced. You don't need to be perfect for me; none of that really matters. All I want is for you to be yourself, as authentic as you are, because that's the person I want to share my life with.

With all my love that I haven't given you yet ;),

Your future lover"

💘 Channeled song from your person:

ʚ🩷ɞ Pile 2:

"Hello, my love:

Maybe this message comes at a time when you feel like everything is on pause, or that things are not going their course. And I want to tell you, from the bottom of my heart, that everything is happening exactly as it has to be. There is nothing that is out of place. We are at different points, but somewhere in this space that we share, we are already connected.

I want you to know that I am waiting for you, although not in the sense of waiting as something passive. No. I am waiting for you with everything that I am, with everything that I am learning, with everything that I already am and everything that I continue to discover. Because I need you just as you are, not for what you can do, or for what you can "give" me, but for what we are together when we meet.

Although sometimes you may feel alone or lost, you are preparing yourself for what is to come. Don't doubt yourself or what the future holds, I want you to trust that this whole path has been a part of my journey to you. You dont need to worry about what's still unclear. I promise that when the time comes, it will all make sense, believe me.

I send you all my love,

Your love"

💘 Channeled song from your person:

ʚ🩷ɞ Pile 3:

"Hello, my dear,

Today I woke up feeling so warm and close to you, like we already knew each other, like our souls already recognized each other, even though we haven't physically crossed paths yet. I'm here, even though you can't see me, and I'm sending you all my love and thoughts.

I want you to know that, even though this journey towards you is taking longer than you imagine, every day that passes brings me closer to you. You don't have to do anything else, just be you, and that's what attracts me the most. I promise you that everything is happening in its perfect time. When we get to meet, everything will make sense, and everything you've lived so far will be the solid foundation for what we're going to build together.

Don't feel pressured, Don't worry if it seems like things aren't going as fast as you'd like. I'm going through my own process too, and on this journey, we're learning to be better versions of ourselves so we can give each other the most genuine love.

I want you to always remember that you are enough just the way you are. You dont need to change who you are, how you think, what you like; the ones that get it, are the ones that matter, and in the end, you have me ;). Please keep moving and keep being you, you deserve the world and your ideas need to be heard. Your voice MATTER! so keep going my love.

With all my love,

Your partner in a crime"

💘 Channeled song from your person:

🩷⋆˚✿˖°ᡣ𐭩🩷Thanks for reading, tell me if it resonated and Happy Valentines day🩷⋆˚✿˖°ᡣ𐭩🩷

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astrcmoni · 18 hours ago

Text

୨♡୧⁀➷cupid’s kiss ୨♡୧⁀➷

MASTERLIST

synopsis: the city hums around you, a fleeting backdrop to roses, laughter, and the heat of her gaze. by night’s end, only tangled limbs and breathless whispers remain—fragments of a valentine’s you’ll never forget.

pairing: fem!reader x billie eilish

genre: fluff, smut

wc: 12.2k

warnings: car sex, cunnilingus (r! receiving), sexual teasing, talk of cum, making out ( let me know if i missed any)

authors note: i know this is coming out late but take it anyways. hope you enjoy this, happy valentine’s day everyone 💋

the soft melody of an old r&b song drifts quietly throughout your room, threading through the warm glow of the bedside lamp. the air is thick with the scent of vanilla and shea butter, settling into your skin like a second layer, like something familiar. your body sways slightly, hips moving in time with the slow rhythm, a motion so natural it feels like breathing.

your fingers find the lip liner with ease, wrapping delicately around its sleek body before lifting it to your mouth. the deep burgundy wax blooms against your skin as you trace the curve of your bottom lip, slow and steady, like painting something sacred. your cupid’s bow follows next, the tip of the pencil pressing just enough to carve out the shape, to sculpt without effort. your ring finger grazes the edge of your lips, the warmth of your skin melting the pigment just enough to blur the lines. slow, deliberate strokes soften the burgundy, blending it inward, fading like dusk into the fullness of your mouth. the color settles into something effortless, something lived-in—like you’ve been kissed, like you’ve kissed back.

your hand drifts to the tube of clear gloss lying discarded on your vanity, the light catching its sleek surface as your fingers wrap around it. you twist it open, pulling the wand free with a quiet pop before guiding it over your lips. the gloss drenches them in liquid shine, turning the deep berry into something richer, something decadent. it clings to every curve, catching the light with every slight movement. you part your lips just a little, watching how the gloss gleams, how it makes your mouth look fuller, softer—irresistible.

you lean back in your chair, eyes locked on your reflection, watching the way the gloss glows under the soft light. the burgundy, now hugged by gloss, looks like wine under candlelight—deep, warm, and impossible to ignore. you smack your lips together slightly, the wet sheen catching for a moment before settling again. satisfied, you reach up, fingers curling around one of the pinned rollers, sliding out the clip that holds it in place. the strand unfurls, falling in a soft wave against your shoulder.

this motion repeats, fingers working with practiced ease, unpinning each roller, letting the fresh blowout cascade around your face. the weight of your hair feels different now, lighter, freer. the song shifts, a familiar melody slipping through the speakers, and without thinking, your voice joins in—barely above a whisper, tracing the lyrics with quiet ease.

you reach for your black comb, running it through your hair, each strand slipping over the wide teeth like silk unraveling. the motion is rhythmic, soothing, a quiet kind of ritual that settles you further into the warmth of the moment.

the song playing is familiar, comforting—a melody wrapped in nostalgia, threaded with slow, honeyed vocals that make you feel like you’re sinking into something soft and golden. everything about this moment feels unhurried, like the night itself is waiting patiently for you to step into it. the scent of your perfume lingers in the air, a quiet presence mixing with the rhythm of the music, and for a second, you close your eyes, letting it all settle over you like a second skin.

nights like these make getting ready easy, slipping into the three-hour routine you’ve perfected over the years. there’s a tranquility in it, in the way you take your time, in the way you indulge yourself with each step. so when billie had told you earlier this week that on friday—valentine’s day—she was taking you out, you’d immediately started planning. appointments were booked, outfits were considered, and questions were asked, most of which she refused to answer, a teasing smile playing at the corners of her lips. “can’t give up the surprise,” she had murmured against your cheek, her breath warm, her fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. she did love to entertain your excitement, though, only telling you what she wanted you to know—just enough to keep you on edge, just enough to make you anticipate. dress cute but comfortable, that was all she’d given you, and somehow, it was enough.

the sound of keys jingling snaps you from your reverie, followed by the quiet creak of the front door unlocking, then locking again. a smile tugs at your lips, your heart picking up its pace just slightly as you hear the familiar weight of her footsteps approaching.

billie’s socks slide against the hardwood floor, the sound soft but distinct, accompanied by the light jangle of her keys in her pocket and the faint rustling of bags in her grasp. you don’t turn around just yet, but the curve of your lips deepens at the sound of her voice.

“baby, where are you?” her voice carries through the house, warm and familiar, wrapped in something easy, something tender.

“in here,” you call out, still running the comb through your hair, smoothing out the last few strands.

a few seconds later, she appears in the doorway, still bundled up from the february cold. the soft glow of your vanity lights catches the flushed pink of her cheeks, the tip of her nose slightly red from the chill. the red roots of her hair peek out from under her beanie, strands slipping loose beneath the hood of her sweatshirt. her eyes find yours instantly, flickering with something warm, something knowing.

she steps inside the room, making her way toward you, the scent of winter clinging to her clothes—cold air and something faintly sweet, like the bakery she always stops at on her way home.

your head tilts slightly to the left as you notice her hands hidden behind her back, her body language giving her away before she even speaks.

“hi, mama,” she starts, her voice soft, threaded with something breathless, like she rushed home just to give you whatever she’s holding.

she reveals her hands, stretching them toward you, and your breath catches just slightly. deep red roses, wrapped in crisp black paper, petals full and velvety to the touch. the contrast is striking—the darkness of the wrapping making the red stand out even richer, deeper. it’s intentional, you know that. billie has always had a way of making things feel like more than just gestures.

you turn fully to face her, your hands lifting as you take the bouquet, your nails grazing over the back of her hands in the process, a fleeting touch that makes her fingers twitch slightly. your fingertips brush the petals in quiet admiration, feeling the delicate texture beneath them. the scent fills your nose, heady and intoxicating—rich yet soft, like something meant to linger.

billie watches you, studying your reaction, the corner of her lip twitching like she’s holding back a smirk. there’s something in the way she looks at you—like she’s memorizing every detail, like she’s already picturing you in her arms later tonight. the warmth of it spreads through you, slow and deliberate, settling in your chest like a steady flame.

“these are gorgeous, babe. thank you.”

you tuck the flowers against your arm before reaching up, fingers finding the familiar warmth of her face. her skin is cool from the outside air, but she leans into your touch instinctively, eyes half-lidded, lips curving into something soft.

“it was nothing much, but you’re welcome.”

she inches closer, her breath warm against your lips before they finally meet—soft, lingering, unhurried. the kiss is brief but enough to send a slow shiver down your spine, enough to make her chase your lips when you pull away. her mouth parts slightly, instinctively, like she wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

you chuckle under your breath, running your thumb over her lips, the smooth acrylic gliding over her plump skin—slightly sticky from your gloss. she lets out a soft hum at the touch, and just as her hands start to settle on your waist, you gently push her back.

“actually,” you start, rising from your vanity with ease before walking toward your side of the shared closet. “i have something for you too.”

billie watches you with open curiosity, shifting her weight, eyes following every move you make. she tugs at the hem of her hoodie absentmindedly as you crouch down, disappearing slightly into the closet’s dim interior.

your hands glide over folded sweaters, past stacked shoeboxes, feeling your way toward the back until your fingers brush against the satin ribbon-wrapped handle of the basket you’ve been carefully putting together for the past few days. you lift it gently, pulling it into the light, and stand, turning toward billie with a small smile as you stretch the basket toward her.

her eyes widen slightly, face lighting up as she takes it, fingers tracing over the red bow with something reverent. she shifts the weight of it in her hands, eyes scanning the contents nestled carefully in soft pink tissue paper—the little details that only you would think of, the things you know she’d love.

a candle that smells like vanilla and warm musk, the kind she always lights the second she gets home. a handwritten letter, its rose-colored envelope sealed with a kiss of your burgundy lip liner. a small plushie tucked beside her favorite snacks, something soft, something sentimental. and at the very center, a small box tied with a silk ribbon, holding a delicate bracelet that catches the light just enough to glint, subtle but intentional—just like her.

her smile spreads into a grin, the small gems on her teeth catching the glow of your vanity lights. she lifts her gaze back to you, something playful settling in her eyes.

“are you trying to one-up me?”

“always.” your response is immediate, your voice carrying the same playful lilt as hers.

billie exhales a soft laugh before setting the basket down carefully on your vanity, her fingers lingering on the ribbon for a moment before she turns back to you. without hesitation, she steps in close, arms slipping around your torso as she pulls you into her warmth.

you melt into it, arms looping around the back of her neck, fingers instinctively tangling together as your thumbs rest against her skin. her red roots brush against your knuckles, the smaller pieces of hair swaying slightly as you rub slow circles into the nape of her neck.

she leans down again, lips finding yours in a kiss slower than the last—soft, sweet, deep enough to make your breath hitch. it’s just enough to leave you wanting more before she pulls away, a quiet smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“i gotta shower,” she murmurs, eyes flicking over you with something unreadable, something lingering. “but thank you for the gifts.”

her hands slide from your waist, moving with purpose, fingers trailing over each curve of your body as she makes her way up to where your hands rest against her neck. carefully, she unlaces your fingers from each other before cupping them in her own, holding them between you like something precious.

she squeezes once, gentle but firm, like a silent promise.

“i’ll be quick,” she adds, voice low, almost teasing. “don’t miss me too much.”

she takes a step back, her blue eyes raking over you in slow, deliberate strokes, like she’s committing every inch of you to memory.

your brow quirks in light confusion. “what? do i have something on me?”

billie huffs out a small laugh before reaching for your hand, lifting it above your head with gentle ease. “nah,” she murmurs, spinning you slowly. the skirt of your dress fans out as you move, fabric catching the soft glow of the vanity lights. when you come back around to face her, her smile has deepened, something playful tugging at her lips. “just admiring, that’s all.”

your eyes roll instinctively, but the warmth spreading across your chest betrays you. placing your hands on her chest, you give her a gentle push, the fabric of her hoodie soft beneath your palms. “will you hurry and go clean up so we can go?”

“pushy, pushy,” she teases, but she leans in anyway, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear, her lips lingering for a second longer than necessary. the hum she lets out vibrates against your skin before she pulls away, fingers already toying with the hem of her hoodie. she strips down with ease, leaving a trail of discarded clothes as she makes her way toward the connecting bathroom.

you shake your head at the mess she leaves behind, turning your attention to the bouquet still in your arms. you place the roses in a vase, arranging them carefully, the deep red petals almost glowing against the dim light of the room. the scent of them mixes with the faint traces of billie’s cologne still clinging to the air, something warm, something familiar.

the sound of water rushing through the pipes fills the space, followed by the muffled slide of the shower door.

“so, are you excited for tonight?” billie’s voice carries over the hiss of the water.

“i would be if i knew what it was, billie.”

“the whole point of a surprise date is so that it can be that—a surprise,” she teases. “just trust me, babe.”

you hum thoughtfully, bare feet padding softly against the carpet as you make your way to the bathroom. heat rises to greet you, steam curling around the glass shower door, clinging to the mirror. you lean against the doorframe, watching as billie’s figure shifts behind the fogged glass, her movements slow and unhurried.

“should i be worried?” you ask, voice laced with playful suspicion.

“no, not at all,” she says smoothly. “but you might wanna wear something cute and comfortable.”

“so, no heels then?”

she hums, considering. “mm… not tonight. your boots would look really cute with your fit.” a pause. “but you’ll still look fine as hell no matter what you decide.”

you shake your head, grinning. “flatterer.”

billie laughs, the sound soft and unfiltered, mixing with the warmth of the room. you stay there, talking about everything and nothing, letting the conversation weave between teasing remarks and familiar comforts.

soon enough, the water cuts off, the steam thick in the air as billie steps out. a towel is wrapped loosely around her torso, droplets of water still clinging to her skin, trailing slow paths down the curves of her body. the scent of her vanilla body wash wraps around you as she moves past, something rich and sweet, something undeniably her.

your eyes follow her, drawn to the way her damp hair drips against the towel slung around her shoulders, how her fingers comb through the strands with ease. she moves toward her side of the dresser, pulling out pieces of clothing with the same quiet deliberation she does everything else.

she hums softly as she gets dressed, a song that’s been playing faintly in the background, one you hadn’t even realized she was paying attention to. your gaze lingers as she buttons up her black shirt, her fingers sliding each button into its designated slot with ease. the fabric molds against her frame, and your focus catches on the slight flex of her biceps as she adjusts the cuffs, rolling them up just enough to reveal the lines of ink along her hand.

her eyes flick up toward the mirror, lips twitching into a smirk when she catches your gaze in the reflection. the soft glow of the vanity lights frames her features, turning her crystalline blue eyes into something almost ethereal, something impossible to look away from.

“you getting distracted?” she teases, slipping rings onto her fingers with practiced ease, the metal gliding against her skin. she picks up a delicate chain next, fastening the clasp at the nape of her neck, all without breaking eye contact.

“what? no, shut up,” you mutter, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. the warmth in her stare makes your stomach flip, but you ignore it, turning your attention to your jewelry box instead.

the sable black wood is smooth beneath your fingertips, the hinges sighing softly as you lift the lid. inside, nestled among delicate chains and glinting rings, rests a golden watch—slim, dainty, timeless. the light catches on its polished surface, tracing over the fine links of its bracelet, the minimalist face gleaming under the glow of the room.

with careful fingers, you lift it from its place, the cool metal whispering against your skin as you drape it over your wrist. the clasp clicks softly as you fasten it, the weight settling against you like it was made to be there. the gold catches the light, warm and radiant, an understated elegance that feels like a quiet kind of power.

you reach back into the box, extracting a necklace, its chain the same golden shade as your watch, its charm a simple letter. the ‘b’ sways lightly between your fingers, gleaming under the soft light. before you can put it on, billie stretches out her hand, palm up, a silent request.

you don’t hesitate. you never do.

stepping behind you, billie takes both ends of the necklace, the cool metal hovering just above your collarbone as her fingers slide over the clasp. her touch is featherlight, the brief brush of her knuckles against your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. she hooks the clasp into place, then adjusts the necklace so the charm rests perfectly at the base of your throat.

but she doesn’t step away just yet.

her hands skim down your sides, fingertips grazing the fabric of your dress before settling on your hips. her eyes meet yours in the mirror, a silent moment stretching between you, filled with something unspoken, something deep.

your own initial rests boldly against her neck, a silver version instead of gold, the contrast striking yet complementary. a matched set, tied together in quiet devotion.

billie breaks the silence first, her voice soft but sure. “c’mon, we better go before we’re late.”

her fingers lace through yours, warm and familiar, and she leads you downstairs without another word.

you both move in sync, slipping on your shoes, grabbing your belongings with the kind of effortless ease that only comes with time. the door swings open, and the cool night air greets you, crisp and full of promise.

and just like that, you step out into the night, hand in hand.

the restaurant hums with low chatter and the soft clinking of silverware, but in your little corner booth, the world feels quieter, smaller—just the two of you wrapped up in each other. the dim lighting bathes the table in a soft amber glow, reflecting off wine glasses, the edges of flickering candlelight, and the soft sheen of your girlfriend’s silver jewelry, each little detail seeming to highlight the intimacy between you.

dinner feels like a secret, just the two of you tucked into the booth, close enough that your thighs press together, the warmth of her body a constant against yours. the room is alive with the sounds of the evening, but here, it’s just you two—the scent of rich food and something faintly floral lingering in the air, heavy with comfort and quiet affection.

instead of sitting across from each other, billie pulls you in beside her, her arm draped casually around the back of your seat, fingers lightly grazing your shoulder.

“you look so pretty,” she murmurs, her voice soft but sure, fingers tracing lazy, comforting patterns over your thigh, each stroke a promise, a reassurance.

you turn your head slightly, catching the fond smile tugging at her lips, the way her eyes soften when she looks at you. “you’ve said that three times already.”

she shrugs, her lips curling into an easy smile, unfazed by your teasing. “and i’ll say it again and again. and again.”

you roll your eyes playfully, but your heart flutters at the simplicity of the compliment. the sincerity of it makes the moment feel like something sacred, tucked away just for the two of you.

you lean into her side, your head coming to rest on a familiar shoulder, and breathe her in. her scent is intoxicating—vanilla with something deeper, more complex, something both soft and strong, feminine and masculine in perfect harmony. it clings to her skin, lingering in the collar of her shirt, curling into the space between you both, the scent threading through the warmth that lingers in the air.

“you smell so good,” you murmur, voice soft, just above a whisper, letting the words dissolve between your lips and her neck, filling the space around you with the quiet, tender intimacy of the moment.

billie huffs out a small laugh, fingers still toying with the lace of your stockings where her hand rests on your thigh. “i sure would hope so,” she teases, the smirk evident in her voice even before she presses a slow, deliberate kiss to the top of your head, her lips warm against the crown of your hair.

“why can’t you ever just accept the compliment?” the back of your hand meets her chest in a gentle hit, teasing but full of affection.

a soft chuckle escapes billie, her fingers still tracing idle patterns along your thigh. with a shift, she pulls out her phone, the screen lighting up in the dim atmosphere as she angles it to capture the moment. she snaps a few pictures—one with your faces close, the other where she leans in just enough to plant a kiss on your temple. her lips curl into a playful grin as she murmurs, “i hope you know that you’re really pretty.”

the phone is set aside, forgotten, discarded in favor of the quiet moment shared between you, the flashes of her smile and the soft hum of her voice lingering in the air, more cherished than any photograph could ever capture.

not long after, your plates arrive, the scent of rich spices and warm dishes curling into the air, drawing you both back to the present. you straighten just enough to reach for your fork, but billie’s arm doesn’t leave your side, her fingers still tracing small, absent patterns over the lace of your stockings.

dinner is slow, unhurried. you steal bites from each other’s plates, laughing at the most random things, exchanging soft kisses that feel like nothing and everything all at once—moments so small but somehow monumental in their own way. the world outside this booth fades into the background as you talk about everything from childhood memories to plans for the future.

the night is intimate, effortless—woven together with the kind of love that doesn’t need grand gestures or fireworks, just the softness of shared space, quiet compliments, the lightest touches, and the way your scents linger together in the small moments.

by the time dessert arrives, the last remnants of dinner sit on the table—half-empty glasses, a shared dessert plate with only a few crumbs left behind. the warmth of the evening lingers still, like the soft, steady beat of her heart beneath your palm. billie’s arm is still around you, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles against your hip, the world outside the restaurant fading into something almost dreamlike.

billie reaches for the black checkbook the waiter left behind, flipping it open with a practiced flick of her wrist. her gaze lingers on the receipt for a moment, brows lifting slightly at the total, before she hums in approval, a quiet, satisfied sound that melts into the warm, dim atmosphere of the restaurant.

with your head still resting on her shoulder, you tilt your chin just enough to steal a glance at the numbers, your lips curling into a playful smirk. “not bad,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, the words slipping out like a secret only the two of you share.

she lets out a soft chuckle, nudging you gently with her elbow. “you got a pen?” she asks, tapping the checkbook with her fingertips, the quiet request cutting through the gentle hum of the restaurant. “they forgot to bring one.”

without hesitation, you reach for your purse, fingers sifting through its contents, the familiar feel of soft leather under your fingertips grounding you in this quiet moment. you pull out a sleek, black pen, placing it in her waiting hand, watching as she takes it with a quick, fluid motion.

you watch as she signs the tip portion first, the ink gliding smoothly over the paper in practiced strokes, the sound of the pen scratching against the paper almost melodic in the stillness. then, with a small flourish, she signs off at the bottom—B.E. the letters are clean, effortless, holding a quiet confidence, the kind that’s always been so distinctly her. the way she carries herself, even in the smallest gestures, leaves an imprint on everything she touches.

after capping the pen and handing it back, your girlfriend slips a hand behind her phone, pulling out her sleek black american express card tucked safely in its case. the metal glints in the dim lighting as she slides it into the pocket of the checkbook with a satisfying tap, the motion final, almost ceremonial, as if everything is in its place now.

“there,” she leans in, her voice low and smooth against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “all taken care of. so, are you ready for part two?” the waiter comes back around to your table, taking the little black book and slipping away to the back.

your hands wrap around her forearm, pulling her a little closer as you lift an eyebrow, brows shooting up in surprise at her question. “there’s more?”

“baby, there’s always more.” she grins, lips widening into that familiar, knowing smile of hers. she shifts slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, the gesture tender, the warmth of her lips lingering.

your eyes wander around the restaurant, your mind spinning with endless possibilities of what could be next, the anticipation building. “where are we going?”

she smirks, slipping the black card back into her phone once the waiter returns, the subtle click of the card’s return echoing between you. “that’s for me to know and you to find out.” her tone is teasing, playful, as if she holds all the answers, but she’s not giving anything away just yet.

you purse your lips, trying to stop yourself from rolling your eyes for the thousandth time that night at her crypticness. but the corner of your mouth lifts, betraying the smile that threatens to break free. sliding out of the booth, billie stands, offering her hand to help you out of your seat, the warmth of her palm a comfort against yours. you take it without thinking, the connection between you electric, her hand soft but firm in yours.

she pulls you into a quick kiss, a soft press of her lips to yours, pulling away with a small hum of satisfaction before intertwining your fingers again. without missing a beat, she pulls you toward the door, your steps in sync, the cool night air just beyond, waiting to greet you both.

turns out, part two is top golf.

you burst out laughing as soon as she parks the car, the sound echoing into the quiet night. “seriously?” you ask, incredulous.

she grins, unbuckling her seatbelt with that familiar confident flick of her wrist. “what? you thought i was gonna take you to some bougie rooftop?”

“i don’t know what i thought,” you admit, still chuckling. “wasn’t expecting this though. but just so you know, i’m gonna win and whoop your ass in the process.”

“if you say so,” she replies, her voice laced with playful arrogance. “we all know i’m the real mvp when it comes to this.” the competitive fire in her voice sparks yours, and just like that, the trash talk begins.

the night air is crisp as billie opens the car door and steps out, the neon blue and green lights from the towering topgolf building ahead casting a vibrant glow that dances across her face. you pull your jacket tighter around you, feeling the cool bite of the night, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of your competitive banter. billie jogs around to your side, opening the door for you with a proud little smirk.

“chivalry isn’t dead, i see,” you tease, taking her hand as she helps you out of the car, your fingers intertwining effortlessly.

she winks, that signature glint in her eyes. “not when it comes to you.”

you round the car, making your way to the trunk. with the press of a button, the trunk pops open, and you dig around until you find what you’re looking for—a pair of random sneakers that somehow always end up in each other’s cars. you quickly slide off your boots, switching them out for the more comfortable pair of shoes before slipping your hand back into billie’s.

together, you make your way to the building, your footsteps light but purposeful.

inside, the atmosphere is buzzing—low music hums over the speakers, filling the space with an easy energy. the scent of fresh food and warm pretzels hangs in the air, mixing with the excitement that pulses through the crowd. billie leads the way, her fingers laced through yours, guiding you toward a private bay on the upper level.

you step out onto the platform, the cool breeze kissing your skin as you take in the sight of the open-air range stretched out before you. small targets glow in various colors across the field, the soft thrum of the city’s skyline flickering faintly in the distance. the air is crisp and clean, nipping at your skin with the promise of something new.

“i won’t lie, this is pretty cool,” you admit, leaning against the railing, your voice quieter now, soaking in the moment. “didn’t expect this for valentine’s, though.”

billie grins, grabbing a golf club from the rack, her fingers curling around it with the same ease she handles everything else. “you know i like to keep you on your toes.”

she moves toward the tee, rolling her shoulders like she’s about to do something serious. you cross your arms over your chest, watching her with a mixture of admiration and amusement. she plants her feet, squares her shoulders, and grips the club with entirely too much confidence, as if she’s the queen of golf—never mind that she’s never swung a club in her life.

“you’ve never golfed before, have you?” you ask, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“nope,” she replies confidently, rolling her shoulders again, a small huff escaping her. “but i’ve watched golf before. can’t be that hard.”

you stifle a laugh, shaking your head. “famous last words. okay, we’ll see.”

“watch and learn, baby.” she takes a deep breath, a focused look crossing her face as she swings the club—

—and completely misses the ball.

a laugh bursts out of you before you can stop it, and you quickly cover your mouth to stifle it, but the sound escapes anyway. she straightens up, staring down at the untouched ball with a look of pure betrayal, as if it’s personally offended her.

“that was practice,” she mutters, giving you a look of mock annoyance.

“uh huh, sure it was,” you tease, barely holding back another laugh.

she tries again—this time, she makes contact, but the ball barely rolls off the tee, a soft, unimpressive nudge that doesn’t go anywhere near the target. you double over laughing now, unable to hold it in, while billie pouts, gripping the club like she’s debating throwing it across the range.

she tries once more, swinging with more force this time, the ball barely rolling off the tee again, stopping embarrassingly short of the edge.

“oh wow,” you say, feigning awe, crossing your arms. “real impressive, tiger woods.”

billie groans, dragging a hand down her face in exasperation. “this shit is so annoying.”

you step toward her, shaking your head fondly. “here, let me help.”

“okay, first of all, that’s not how you hold it,” you say, sliding in behind her, your voice warm against her ear. you wrap your arms around her waist, gently guiding her hands to the club. billie relaxes against you, her body fitting perfectly with yours as she tilts her head just enough for her nose to brush against your cheek.

“this is just an excuse to be all over me, isn’t it?” she murmurs, her voice dropping low, just enough to send a shiver down your spine, making your heart beat a little faster.

you smirk, letting your hands linger longer than necessary as you adjust her grip. “maybe.”

her breath is soft on your skin as you guide her through the motion, adjusting her stance, speaking in a calm, steady whisper. she listens intently, her usual cocky confidence melting into something else—vulnerable, trusting. you pull her arms back with yours before swinging forward together, your hearts aligned for just a moment. when she swings this time, the ball sails smoothly through the air, slicing the cool night sky before landing in one of the further targets.

billie gasps, her eyes wide in disbelief, and then she breaks into a triumphant cheer. “did you see that?”

you laugh, clapping along with her, unable to stop the smile from spreading across your face. “okay, i’ll give you that one.”

“i’m such a natural,” she says smugly, grabbing another ball with a flourish, her pride practically radiating from her. “bet i can do it again.”

she tries. and she fails.

you don’t even bother hiding your laughter this time, the sound spilling out freely, echoing in the open space. billie glares at the club, as though it’s personally betrayed her, before she sets it down with a dramatic sigh, her shoulders slumping in mock defeat.

“alright, your turn,” she declares, grabbing your hand and pulling you forward, her fingers warm and confident in yours.

you smirk, stepping up to the tee. “are you sure? i really don’t wanna embarrass you more than i already have.”

“girl, please,” billie scoffs, crossing her arms with a raised brow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “let’s see what you got.”

“don’t say i didn’t tell you so,” you warn, your voice playful, but with a hint of challenge. billie rolls her eyes but can’t quite hide the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

grabbing the club from her hand, you turn back to the tee, adjusting your stance, lining up your shot with precision. the cool air brushes against your face, but all you feel is the steady calm in your chest. you take a steady breath, the world slowing down as you pull back. and then you swing—watching as the ball soars effortlessly through the air, its trajectory perfect, landing dead center in one of the smaller, harder-to-hit targets.

you smile to yourself, turning to billie, who’s staring at you with wide eyes and a mock pout. “well, i guess i did warn you,” you say, voice light but triumphant.

billie crosses her arms over her chest, her grin impossible to suppress. “alright, alright. you’re good. but i’m still gonna beat you next round.”

billie lets out a low whistle, her gaze lingering on you with a mischievous smile. “well damn. look at you.”

you grin, turning toward her, an eyebrow arched in playful challenge. “what, impressed?”

she gestures lazily toward the club in your hand, her lips curling into a half-smirk. “nah, just realizing i have no shot at winning.”

“it’s all love for the game, baby. all love.” you tease, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek before handing her back the golf club, your fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

the night stretches on, the air growing cooler but the energy between you two never faltering. playful bets are made, stolen kisses shared, and competitive spirits run high, but it’s never about the score—it’s the moments in between, the laughter, the teasing, the way your fingers always seem to find each other in the quietest moments.

at some point, billie decides she’s had enough of golf and just wants to watch you play. she leans against the railing, her chin resting in her hands, her eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing worth looking at. her smile is soft but mischievous, and every time you line up a shot, she can’t resist making sly comments.

“bet you can’t hit that red target.”

you take a breath, steady your stance, and with a smooth swing, you nail it. the ball rips through the air, landing right in the center of the red target.

billie’s eyes widen, a laugh escaping her lips. “i mean, okay, but can you do it again?”

you don’t even hesitate, stepping up and lining up your shot once more. this time, you hit it even more effortlessly, the ball flying through the air with a perfect arc, landing in the same spot.

billie’s mouth drops open in awe, a laugh escaping her. “oh,” she says, blinking rapidly as if she’s trying to process what just happened. “so you’ve clearly done this before.”

you glance at her, a smirk tugging at your lips as you shrug casually. “i told you i was gonna win. all them summers working at the country clubs are finally paying off.”

her gaze softens as she looks at you, something between admiration and amusement twinkling in her eyes. “you’re a showoff, you know that?”

“maybe,” you reply with a wink. “but you love it.”

when the game winds down and the competitive fire starts to fade, the two of you pack up the equipment and make your way back to the car. hand in hand, you walk in comfortable silence, the sounds of the night around you soft and distant. the car sits idly in the driveway, the engine’s hum now silenced, but neither of you makes a move to get out just yet.

the warmth of the evening clings to you both—the laughter, the touches, the shared moments. you lean into one another, heads resting against the soft leather of the car seats, letting the night wash over you. the radio hums low in the background, filling the quiet space between breaths, the soft melody a perfect contrast to the silence surrounding you.

billie traces lazy circles on your knee, her fingers moving with an absent rhythm as she speaks in a softer tone, her voice barely louder than the hum of the radio.

“i just can’t believe…” she begins, her voice trailing off as she drops her head against your shoulder, pressing a soft smooch against the exposed skin of your neck. you feel the warmth of her breath, the weight of her presence, before she continues, her voice playful but with an edge of disbelief. “i got hustled on valentine’s day.”

you chuckle softly, a grin tugging at your lips. “i told you that i would beat you, did i not?”

“you did, you did.” her body shakes with laughter, the sound rich and deep, filling the car with warmth. the vibrations of her amusement carry through her body, against yours, and you close your eyes for a moment, letting the sensation wash over you. she tilts her head slightly, looking up at you with that familiar glint in her eyes. “did you have fun?” she asks, her voice soft, almost tender, as if she already knows the answer.

you glance at her, caught in the way the streetlights reflect in her eyes, the way the soft curve of her lips pulls at your heart. something about this moment, about her, feels like it’s suspended in time.

“yeah,” you murmur, leaning into her, feeling her warmth seep into your skin. “i really did. thank you.”

you shift slightly, turning towards her. your hands find her face, cupping it gently, your thumb brushing over the soft skin of her cheek. you tilt her chin upward with your fingers, and she meets your gaze, her lashes fluttering slightly as if she’s still processing the moment. you don’t rush it. you take your time, breathing her in, feeling the weight of her in your arms. you brush your nose against hers, the tip of your lips grazing her skin, before closing the space between you.

when your lips meet hers, the kiss is slow, tender—a stark contrast to the fiery ones you shared earlier in the night. it lingers, soft and sweet, and when you pull back, your hand still rests gently on her jaw, your breath mingling with hers. your eyes trace over her face, soaking in the small details—the way the moonlight dances across her freckled skin, the cool acrylic of your nails making contact with her soft skin beneath her eyes. her blue eyes meet yours through thick lashes, steady and knowing.

you push a stray lock of hair behind her ear, admiring the vibrant red gradient in her hair. the soft, colorful streaks stand out against the dim light, adding to the allure of the moment. “my pretty lady,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, your words falling into the quiet void of the night.

billie’s lips curl into a small, knowing smile, her eyes soft and full of affection. her hand drifts to the side of your neck, cupping it gently. she pulls you closer, bringing your lips back to hers in a kiss that’s even more lingering, more desperate this time. her fingers tighten slightly around your neck as she murmurs, “c’mere.”

her voice is soft, but the way she tugs you forward, the way her fingers press against your skin—there’s no hesitation in her touch. no second-guessing.

you shift your body, moving onto your knees and climbing over the center console, settling yourself into her lap like you’ve done it a hundred times before. the familiarity of her body beneath yours feels like home. billie tilts her head back, her eyes heavy with desire, and she looks up at you, her hands already smoothing over your hips, guiding you closer.

you lean down again, kissing her once more. this time, it’s deeper, slower. no rush. just the two of you, lost in the quiet space of the night, in the warmth of each other. her fingers trace over your body as the kiss deepens, and everything else—the world outside, the night, the distractions—fades away, leaving only the feeling of her lips, the softness of her touch, and the rhythm of your hearts beating together.

billie’s fingers slip under the hem of your dress, tracing slow, teasing patterns along your hips, the light touch sending electric shivers up your spine. her lips move against yours with a quiet urgency, each kiss deepening, pulling you closer into her orbit. the taste of her—of warmth, of something sweet and just a little dangerous—lingers on your tongue. she sighs softly as your hand slides into her hair, your nails grazing her scalp just enough to make her shiver beneath your touch.

the moment stretches, pulling you both deeper into it, a world of soft breaths and whispered sighs until you finally break apart, just enough to catch your breath. the air between you feels thick, charged with something both tender and intoxicating.

and then you notice it.

a faint tint of your lip gloss smudged against billie’s mouth, glistening faintly under the dim light, a soft shimmer against the dark of the night. you blink, your lips curling into a small, knowing smile. then, you let out a quiet laugh, the sound soft but playful.

she frowns slightly, brows knitting together in mock confusion. “what?”

you swipe a thumb over the corner of her lips, smirking as you catch the gloss. “you got a little something there.”

billie blinks, feigning confusion, her eyes wide as if she’s innocent in all of this. “huh. weird.”

you tilt your head, the corner of your mouth twitching into a grin. “oh my god, were you kissing a girl?”

billie gasps, her eyes widening in mock horror, hands rising to her face as if she’s genuinely scandalized. “what? no, ew. i would never. didn’t even know you could kiss a girl.”

you narrow your eyes playfully, dabbing at the smudge again with your thumb, a sly grin creeping onto your lips. “mhm. sure. then where’d this lip gloss come from?”

her lips twitch, fighting the urge to smirk. she tilts her head slightly, the glint of mischief in her eyes as she leans closer. “i don’t know, maybe i just like the taste.”

you snort, the sound escaping before you can stop it. “i knew you liked wearing my lip gloss. every time i put a new coat on, you’re there to take it off.”

billie hums in amusement, letting her hands slide lower over your thighs, her touch warm and possessive as she pulls you closer. “i only like it when it tastes like you.”

her fingers tighten slightly around your hips, pulling you just a little closer as her breath warms the space between you. she murmurs, her voice low and teasing, “what flavor is this, anyways, hm?”

you barely get the word—cherry—out before she’s leaning back in, her lips pressing to yours in a kiss that’s slow, deep, and all-encompassing. she tastes the answer for herself, her mouth devouring yours with an intensity that makes your pulse race.

billie’s lips are warm and insistent against yours, a steady rhythm pulsing between you. her hands are firm on your hips, guiding you closer as she presses you down against her lap. it’s like she can’t get enough, pulling you closer still, urging your bodies to align. the teasing, playful pace from earlier has shifted into something heavier now, something more desperate, more urgent. a charge fills the air, and you know there’s no turning back from this.

her hands move with purpose, effortlessly sliding your jacket off and tossing it into the passenger seat. she crawls back up, fingers slipping under the hem of your dress, tracing the sensitive curve of your spine as she leans in, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down the line of your jaw. your breath hitches, and you tip your head to the side, exposing more of your neck as she continues her slow descent, her lips brushing over the sensitive skin there.

billie hums softly against you, the sound vibrating against your skin, before her tongue flicks out, teasing before she sucks gently at the spot. her teeth graze your skin lightly, just enough to send a jolt of heat through you. the sting is subtle but enough to make you shudder, and she feels it, her grin widening as she pulls back slightly, knowing she’s marked you.

you hesitate for only a moment, fingers fumbling at the buttons of her black shirt, your freshly done acrylics not quite cooperating. you huff, frustration creeping in as you try again, but each button seems to taunt you, stubborn and unyielding.

billie notices the shift, the slight furrow of your brows, the barely-there frustration in your movements. she chuckles softly, her lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your throat as she murmurs, “i’ll let you rip off my shirt,” her voice low, almost playful. “if you let me rip off your stockings.”

you immediately shake your head, a small, defiant smirk tugging at your lips. “hell no.”

her teeth graze your collarbone, a teasing bite that sends a shiver down your spine. “why not?” she asks, her voice dripping with mischief.

“because i like these stockings,” you argue, fingers still fumbling at her shirt. “you’ll ruin them.”

she raises an eyebrow, her smirk only deepening. “you’re literally about to ruin my shirt.”

her hands slide lower, smoothing over the sensitive skin of your thighs, and your resolve weakens. you bite your lip, still determined to win this little battle, but the buttons refuse to cooperate. billie watches you for a moment longer, her breath warm against your skin, before she lets out a soft laugh.

“just rip it, baby,” she whispers, her voice slipping into something softer, something more inviting. it’s a command wrapped in honeyed sweetness.

you glance at her, lips parted, hesitating for just a heartbeat before you finally give in. gripping the fabric of her shirt in your fists, you yank, feeling the fabric tear free with a satisfying rip. the buttons scatter across the floor of the car, a soft clatter lost beneath the hum of the engine. her shirt falls open, revealing the lacy red bra beneath, the smoothness of her skin glowing under the dim light.

billie groans, a low sound that sends another wave of heat rushing through you. her smirk widens as she takes in the moment, teasing, “see? that wasn’t so hard.”

you exhale, half amused, half breathless. “you’re ridiculous.”

she hums, hands sliding back up your thighs, fingertips brushing the tops of your stockings with a deliberate slowness. “mmm. and you still have these on,” she says, her voice soft with amusement.

you barely have time to react before her fingers hook under the thin material of your stockings, pulling with a sudden, almost greedy force. they rip apart with a sharp sound, fabric tearing easily, and you’re left breathless at the sound of it echoing between you.

“billie—” you gasp, your words cutting off as she grins at you, the heat in her eyes unmistakable.

she leans in, kissing you again, her hands gripping your bare thighs now, her touch firm and possessive as she pulls you closer, pressing you flush against her. she’s got you exactly where she wants you, and in that moment, you realize she always has.

the car feels smaller with every passing second, the space between you two shrinking with each touch. billie’s hands are everywhere—on your hips, your thighs, your back—and it only takes a slight shift for her to pull you closer. her lips find your neck with a hunger that leaves you breathless, pressing kisses along your pulse, each one lingering, tasting, claiming you. you can feel the heat of her body radiating against yours, the way her chest rises and falls with each steady breath, the rhythm syncing with the soft hum of the car, vibrating the air between you two.

billie’s lips tease your skin in that slow, deliberate way she knows drives you crazy. she finds a tender spot along your collarbone, sucking gently, and you can’t help but gasp. your hands slide into her hair, fingers gripping the strands as you pull her closer, your body melting into her touch, giving in to the way she makes you feel.

you want to tear away every last bit of space between you, want to feel every inch of her pressed against you, but there’s something intoxicating about how she keeps you on the edge, never letting you get too comfortable, too settled.

billie’s fingers trail over your bare thighs, skimming dangerously close to the places you crave her touch, but always pulling away before you can get the release you want. your hips shift, grinding ever so slightly against hers, the movement subtle but enough to make her gasp, her lips parting against your mouth as she leans into you.

“billie,” you murmur, voice strained, thick with desire.

she smiles against your skin, that familiar mischievous grin tugging at her lips, before pressing another soft kiss to your pulse. “i know. i know,” she breathes, her voice low, full of that dangerous teasing she knows you can’t resist.

your hands run over the half-ruined buttons of her shirt, the black fabric hanging off her shoulders, and your fingers graze the warmth of her skin underneath. billie shivers under your touch, her breath hitching as your nails lightly scrape down her chest, sending a shiver of her own through you.

restlessly, you shift in her lap, pressing your hips against hers again. the friction makes your breath catch, your body aching for more, and billie groans, her hands sliding down to your back, trying to pull you even closer, her grip tightening around you.

“baby,” you breathe, nails dragging lightly across her chest. “we’re still in the car…”

she laughs softly, the sound rich and low as her lips brush over yours, pulling you closer still. “i know,” she murmurs, her voice thick with desire. “but we’re already here, and you’ve been driving me wild all night. i want you, so bad, babe.”

a beat passes, the tension building between you two. you glance at her, debating whether you really wanted to do this outside, but the temptation is too strong, and you can’t resist any longer.

“fuck it,” you say with a smirk, pulling away slightly. “get in the back.”

you climb off her and crawl into the back seat, billie following you, her movements fluid, eager. she climbs on top of you as soon as she’s in, her lips crashing against yours with a renewed hunger, a fire that’s impossible to put out now. the world outside doesn’t matter anymore—only this, only her, and only the eternal burning need that’s been building between you two since the moment you met.

“you look so pretty laid out for me,” billie murmurs, her voice thick with desire as she leans back in to catch your lips in a searing kiss.

the movements are slow at first, deliberate, like neither of you want to rush, to break the fragile moment. but the tension is undeniable, building with every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath shared between you two.

she’s intoxicating, her lips leaving fiery trails along your neck, her hands roaming over every inch of skin they can reach. each caress feels like it burns, leaving you desperate for more. and you… you’re lost in it, every brush of her fingertips sending jolts of electricity through your veins, something wild and uncontainable awakening inside you.

the heat of the car presses in on you, the soft hum of the radio playing a low, almost forgotten tune, the scent of billie’s perfume mingling with the natural, heady mix of your bodies—it all swirls together into a dizzying, intoxicating fog, until all you can focus on is the way her body fits so perfectly against yours, the way she makes you feel like you’re being consumed, like you’re everything to her in this moment.

her fingers trail up your sides, grazing the sensitive skin of your breasts, and you shiver under her touch, your body aching to get closer, to feel all of her pressed up against you. the heat in your chest swells, that ache becoming almost unbearable.

you can’t take it anymore. your hands find the fabric of her shirt, fingers tugging at it, desperate to get it off, to feel her skin against yours. but billie’s already one step ahead, her hands slipping beneath the fabric of your dress, her fingers finding their way to the waistband of your underwear. the feeling of her pressing against your skin has you gasping, your hips bucking instinctively, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you.

“billie,” you breathe, eyes locked on hers, your voice trembling with need.

she looks down at you, eyes dark with hunger, her lips curling into a grin. “gonna make you feel so good, mama,” she promises, her voice rough and low, sending shivers down your spine.

you nod without hesitation, your breath catching in your throat as your heart races in time with the pulse between you.

with that, billie’s hands slide up to your shoulders, pushing the straps of your dress down, revealing the soft skin of your breasts beneath. she kisses her way down your neck again, her lips moving with purpose, each kiss leaving a trail of heat in its wake. you gasp, unable to focus on anything but the way her mouth worships your skin, the way she makes you feel like you’re the center of her universe.

you can barely keep up, barely focus as her hands move expertly, slipping the dress further down your body, inch by inch, until it pools at your waist. billie pauses for a beat, her hands resting on your bare thighs, and she looks up at you with a grin that sets your pulse racing, her eyes dark with anticipation.

“god, you’re perfect,” she breathes, her voice raw, full of desire as she continues to trace soft patterns on your skin.

you bite your lip, a mix of excitement and need building inside you, ready for whatever she’s about to do next.

before you can respond, billie’s lips are back on yours, kissing you with a hunger that feels almost desperate, as if she can’t get enough of you. her hands roam over your body, caressing every inch of exposed skin, making you shiver with the intensity of her touch, the contrast between the warmth of her skin and the coolness of the car’s air intensifying the need coursing through you.

billie’s fingers trail slow, lazy circles over your thighs, her touch featherlight, teasing, like she’s savoring every second. the dress is bunched around your waist now, exposing more of you to the cool air, but the warmth of her hands keeps you grounded, keeps you tethered to the moment. you shiver beneath her touch, anticipation humming in every inch of your skin, every nerve ending on fire, alive with the promise of what’s to come.

your hands move quickly, eager, tugging at the last of her clothes. you want to feel all of her, need her as much as she needs you. as soon as her shirt is off, her skin exposed to you, she slides her hands to the band of your underwear, her fingers tracing the wine-colored elastic before she moves lower, teasing your pussy through the fabric, sending waves of heat rushing through you.

her touch is maddening, and it elicits a gasp from you, your hips rising instinctively as you try to rub against her fingers, desperate for more.

“billie, please,” you breathe, voice strained with need, the word a plea, a quiet demand for more, for her to finally give you what you’ve been aching for.

she leans back slightly, her eyes flickering over you with a predatory gleam, lips curling into that smug, knowing smirk she wears whenever she knows she has you exactly where she wants you. her hands slide lower, fingers tracing the outline of your panties, grazing over the fabric that clings to your skin, but she doesn’t push any further—just lets her knuckles skim over you, her touch barely there, a slow, teasing build that has you aching with need.

you whine softly, shifting against her lap, trying to press closer, but billie tightens her grip just enough to hold you in place. “patience, baby,” she murmurs, voice low and dripping with amusement, each word a promise that makes your chest tighten. “i’m taking my time with you.”

her lips find your inner thigh, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the sensitive skin. the warmth of her mouth sends a shiver through you, a tremor that runs deep, and you exhale shakily, fingers gripping her shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of her shirt. billie hums at your reaction, pleased, and kisses you again—this time, her lips linger, her tongue flicking out ever so slightly against your skin.

you let out a soft gasp, tilting your head back against the cool leather seat, trying to hold onto some semblance of control. “baby…” you breathe, the word thick with the need she’s ignited in you.

“hm?” she muses, feigning innocence, before pressing another kiss a little higher, her thumb brushing teasingly over your panties. the wet patch grows beneath her touch, your breath hitching with the frustration of wanting her to go further, her fingers never quite where you need them. her teasing is maddening, and it’s almost too much, yet somehow, it makes you crave her more.

she continues like this, slow and deliberate, working her way up your skin with open-mouthed kisses, sucking gently at certain spots, her teeth grazing over the tender flesh just enough to make your breath catch. each movement is calculated, like she’s drawing you into a pattern of her design. when she pulls back to admire her work, a dark mark blooms against your warm skin, and you realize she’s left her mark on you—not just physically, but mentally, too.

a pleased hum vibrates against your thigh as she starts again, her lips mapping out a pattern you can’t quite understand yet. your body twitches under her touch, a restless energy coursing through you, your legs instinctively trying to press together, but she huffs a laugh and nudges them apart again with ease, her fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as she does.

“don’t be shy now,” she teases, her breath hot against your skin, fingers inching closer to where you need her most. “you were just begging for my fingers a second ago.”

you shoot her a glare, but it melts into a shuddering sigh when she presses another firm kiss against the inside of your thigh, sucking just enough to make the sensation linger, leaving a burning heat in its wake.

she’s careful with it—meticulous, almost—as if she’s an artist, and you’re her canvas. every kiss, every mark she leaves, is deliberate, calculated. you barely notice at first, lost in the sensation of her lips on your skin, each touch pulling you deeper into a haze of want, but then she pulls back slightly, running her fingers over the fresh bruises she’s left with a satisfied smirk, her eyes dark with desire.

“there,” she murmurs, her voice low and breathy, eyes flicking up to meet yours, a quiet challenge in her gaze. “a little love note, just for you.”

your chest still rises and falls in uneven breaths, and your stomach flips at the sight—small, darkened spots forming an unmistakable shape. a heart. billie had kissed a heart into your thigh, the skin bruised with passion, marked by her deliberate touch. you can almost feel the heat of her lips lingering there, the soft press of her mouth still tangible against your skin.

your heart stutters in your chest as you look at her, something warm and fond flickering beneath the haze of desire that clouds your mind. it’s impossible to ignore the way she makes you feel—alive, adored, cherished. she grins up at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief, her thumb brushing lazily over the top of your underwear, still teasing but softer now, gentler, almost playful in the way she traces patterns over you.

“you like it?” she asks, her voice dripping with a knowingness that only adds to the fire in your veins.

you bite your lip, your hand coming up to run through her soft hair, the strands slipping through your fingers like silk. “yeah,” you murmur, your voice hoarse with the weight of your feelings. “you’re ridiculous.”

billie laughs, the sound light and melodic, but there’s a tenderness to it, an affection that tugs at something deep inside you. she presses a final kiss to the center of the heart she’s left on your thigh, her lips soft but lingering, marking you with something that feels like ownership, like love. “only for you, baby,” she says, her words a promise, a whisper just for you.

she pulls herself back up, lips brushing against yours, and you kiss her slow, deep—tasting her like you need her to breathe. your hands tangle in the fabric of her shirt, pulling her closer as the kiss deepens, as you lose yourself in the warmth of her body against yours. the heat of her touch, the press of her chest against yours, is enough to make your head spin, but it’s the lingering sting of her love bites against your skin that keeps you grounded, reminding you of the way she worships you—takes her time with you—tenderly, patiently.

her fingers trace the edge of your underwear, teasing at the waistband before slipping underneath, slowly peeling the fabric down your thighs. the pace is maddeningly slow, deliberate, as if she’s savoring every second of it. you inhale sharply as the cool air grazes your skin, the shift of temperature making every nerve stand on edge.

a soft smile curls on billie’s lips as her gaze flickers up at you, dark and heavy with desire, before her middle finger traces the line of your slit, gathering the slickness of your arousal.

“mm, you’re so wet, baby,” she murmurs, her voice thick, resting her head against your thigh as she watches you squirm beneath her touch, delighting in your reaction.

you moan softly, hips instinctively lifting, desperate for more. “billie, please… just… fuck,” you whine, your body aching with need. your hand slides down to grasp hers, trying to guide it, but she gently moves your hand away, a teasing glint in her eyes as she watches your frustration grow.

“stop it, just tell me what you want from me mama.” she continues her lazy strokes on your slit as she speaks, her knuckles occasionally brushing against your clit.

“i want your mouth, billie come on, please..”

“see that’s all you had to do. just had to be nice and patient.” she plants another kiss to your inner thigh before removing her fingers from your core. wrapping her slick covered fingers around your thighs, the coldness of her rings contrasting against the warmth of your skin, while moving her face down to where you craved for her the most.

she plants a kiss on your mound right above your clit before moving lower, each smooch slower than the last. her lips move against your flesh in open mouthed kisses, sending fluttering butterflies all throughout your body, before stoping at your dripping hole. darting her tongue out, she licks from there all the way back up to your clit, moaning at the sheer taste of you.

you gasp as her lips press against your cunt, a shiver running through your body. your hands instinctively find their way to her hair, fingers curling around soft strands as she kisses you with slow, deliberate movements. her touch is tender yet full of intent, each kiss a promise of more, but also savoring the moment.

her fingers gently trace the curves of your thighs, the warmth of her hands sending waves of anticipation through you. she takes her time, exploring you with a patience that only intensifies the longing building inside you. every kiss, every gentle press of her lips, feels like it’s drawing you closer to something almost ethereal, the world around you fading as you lose yourself in the sensation.

you feel the weight of her affection in every movement, in every deliberate, lingering touch. the softness of her lips contrasts with the fierceness of the emotions she evokes within you. you cover your face, overwhelmed by the way she’s making you feel—utterly cherished, completely in tune with each other. her presence surrounding you.

“uht-uht,” she murmurs, pulling back slightly, her breath hot against you. she places your arm gently back at your side, her eyes locking with yours. “i need to see you, my love.”

you nod, unable to speak, lost in the intensity of the moment. billie leans forward, her lips leaving soft, lingering kisses against your stomach, each one sending a shiver through you. her gaze is steady, her eyes dark with intent, as she watches you closely.

with a delicate touch, she traces the line of your slit, her fingers grazing over your clit, sending waves of warmth and desire in their wake. her movements are slow, almost reverent, while she slides her tongue in your soaked cunt, as if she’s savoring every inch of you. each kiss, each touch, each caress, makes you feel as though time has stopped, and it’s just the two of you, locked in this tender, intimate connection.

you can’t help but moan softly as she continues, your body responding to the feeling of her tongue filling up your spongy walls, every nerve awake and alive. your breath comes in shallow gasps, and your legs clench shut around her head as you arch into her touch instinctively. billie moves her fingers from around your thigh and over to your stomach, pressing down against the pressure that’s built up in your tummy and that’s enough to make you snap. her lips curling up into a soft smile as she watches you unravel beneath her, her hands gently massaging your thighs, grounding you.

when she pulls away, you lean up slightly, watching her, your eyes searching for her every movement. you can feel the lingering warmth of her touch, and the space between you seems to throb with a quiet intensity, each second stretching longer, pulling you deeper into the moment.

leaning on your elbows, you study billie, captivated by the way she savors every drop of you, her movements slow and deliberate. she’s taking her time, and you can’t help but marvel at the tenderness with which she handles you, as if she’s savoring a rare treasure. her fingers graze your thighs, soothing you in the aftermath, the cool air brushing over your skin contrasting with the warmth of her touch.

“you’ve got a little something on your face,” you murmur teasingly, your voice soft and still shaky from the intensity that’s passed between you. your chest rises and falls in rhythm, trying to catch its breath, the air thick with the memory of her.

billie’s eyes twinkle with a playful glint, her lips curling into a smile that promises more. “oh, do i?” she replies, voice smooth, teasing. the faint traces of you on her skin glimmer softly beneath the streetlights, each speck a reminder of the connection that’s left its mark on both of you. she leans in, her breath warm against your lips, and plants a kiss that’s gentle at first, but deepens as her tongue dances with yours, lingering just long enough for you to feel the passion she still holds for you, every movement deliberate and drawn out.

breaking away with a soft sigh, you reach down, fingers brushing the cool floor as you retrieve her torn black shirt. the fabric still holds the heat of the night, the memory of everything you just shared, and with a playful smile, you bring it to her face, wiping away the traces of your cum off her chin. billie’s laughter bubbles up, soft and content, mingling with the quiet hum of the night air. she nestles into your chest, her head resting against you as her fingers lazily trace patterns along your hip. each touch is soothing, almost reverent, as though she wants to savor every moment, every last bit of you.

“you always get me so messy,” she murmurs with a teasing smile, her lips brushing your skin as she speaks. you can feel the warmth of her breath, the sweet weight of her words hanging between you two. her fingers continue their gentle path, her touch warm against your bare skin.

“well, you’re not exactly innocent in all this, billie,” you reply with a smile, still catching your breath. the air between you is thick with affection, soft and gentle, the aftermath of everything you’ve shared unfolding around you in the stillness. the quiet of the night feels like a cocoon, wrapping you both in a peaceful, contented embrace.

billie grins at you, her gaze catching the dim light of the room. “true,” she says, her voice playful yet soft. “but now i have to clean it up.”

you laugh, the sound light and carefree, the weight of the moment easing into something warm and familiar. the two of you begin to gather your clothes, the movement slow and deliberate, as if the night didn’t have to end. the warmth between you both lingers even as you pull your jackets on, the fabric settling over your shoulders like a soft blanket.

the quiet hum of the world outside seems too peaceful, too perfect, as you both step out of the car, your hands intertwining as you walk toward the front door of your home.

the house is dark and quiet when you enter, the warmth inside wrapping around you both as you kick off your shoes, your jackets still draped over your arms. the night feels like it’s been stretched out in the best way, the both of you in sync as you move through the space.

you both pause in the hallway, your eyes meeting for a brief moment that holds more than just a glance. a slow, lingering kiss follows—gentle, soft, yet carrying the weight of everything you’ve shared tonight.

“happy valentine’s day,” billie whispers against your lips, her voice tender as she pulls away just enough to look at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

you smile back, warmth flooding your chest, knowing that this night, this moment, was exactly what you both needed. “yeah. happy valentine’s day indeed. it’s been nothing short of perfect,” you whisper, your arms wrapping around her as you hold her close.

and with that, the night continues on, the soft hum of the house surrounding you both as you settle into the quiet comfort of each other’s company. the world may continue outside, but in this space, with billie in your arms, you know that no moment could be more perfect than this one.

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gdinthehouseee · 2 days ago

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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

#kwon jiyong #kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon x reader #gdragon #bigbang #bigbang x reader #kpop #kpop x reader #happy valentines #valentines day #fluff #steamy #ao3 writer #ao3 link #ao3 #kpop fanfic

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honeyryewhiskey · 2 days ago

Text

marked by cupid • happy valentine’s day !

— smut warning ! fingering, (gentle) choking, dean likes to watch, pet names, needy cupid, eager to please dean, cupid's inexperienced 18+ ! — j's note ! wrote this at 4am straight out of a fever dream (literally bc i have the flu) anyways if it sucks i'm sorry 2.6k words

You rise onto your tiptoes, hips pressing against the sink’s edge as you angle closer to the mirror, steadying the sleek golden tube between your fingers.

It’s a careful craft, applying red lipstick. One that demands patience. One wrong move, and fixing it is near impossible. No matter how much you wipe, a pink stain always lingers, a faint reminder. At least for a little while.

Your hand moves with careful precision, the smooth crimson sweeping over the natural flush of your lips like ink on parchment. The pigment is rich, deliberate, leaving behind a bold statement with every stroke. You press your lips together, perfecting the edges, when a shift in the mirror catches your eye.

Dean stands behind you, his broad shoulders filling the small frame, arms crossed as he watches with a bemused arch of his brow. The curiosity in his gaze is subtle, but it lingers, following the slow, practiced motions of your hand.

A smile creeps up on your ruby red lips, turning just enough to meet his eyes in the reflection. With a playful wave of the little golden tube, you toss over your shoulder, “Want some?” The coy smile you wear is as daring as the color itself.

“What? No.” He waves you off, flopping onto the edge of his bed with a huff, arms bracing against the mattress. “I just like to watch.”

“Mhm,” you hum, amusement curling in your tone as you twist the lipstick back into its tube and abandon it in the sink. You glance at him through the mirror, mischief sparking in your eyes. “Are you sure?”

Dean exhales sharply, already suspicious. “Yes, I’m sure—”

“Are you really, really sure?” You turn, stepping toward him slowly, deliberately, hands tucked behind your back like you’re hiding something.

His gaze narrows. “Lovebird, why are you looking at me like that?”

The distance between you disappears in measured steps until you’re standing between his legs. His breath stills as your fingers slide up, cradling his jaw in soft, steady hands. Before he can react, you lean down, pressing a firm, quick kiss to his cheek.

Dean jerks back, his hand flying to his face as you giggle, already knowing what you left behind. His fingers swipe over the spot, and when they come away smudged with red, he groans.

“Damn it, Cupid,” he grumbles, shooting you a halfhearted glare.

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “What?”

“You just—” He gestures vaguely, rubbing at his cheek, only managing to smear the stain further. “You marked me.”

The words make you pause, something warm and electric settling in your chest. Your smile softens, satisfaction washing over you in slow, lazy waves. Marking Dean.

Much can be said about a cupid’s curiosity—about yours in particular. Once a thought crosses your mind, it doesn’t simply pass through. It lingers, settles into the empty spaces, curling into the corners of your mind like an itch you can’t ignore.

“Dean?” Your voice is soft, almost innocent, but the weight of your intention is anything but. Your hands find his shoulders, grounding yourself as you slip into his lap, knees bracketing his hips.

He stiffens beneath you, muscles coiling tight. It’s not that you haven’t been in his lap before—you have, a few times. But always in a shared seat sort of way.

Not like this, and certainly not while you’re wearing a little pink dress.

Dean swallows, trying to maintain that stoic expression as his hands instinctively find your waist, broad and warm against your sides. But it doesn’t take long for them to move, sliding down to your hips, tugging at the hem of your dress like he can somehow will it to cover more of you. Like that extra inch of fabric might save him from the way his pulse is already kicking up.

“Mhm?” he hums, though there’s a slight strain in his brow, a telltale sign that he’s working hard—really hard—to keep himself in check.

You tilt your head, letting your fingers trace the curve of his shoulder as you lean in just a little closer. Close enough to see his pupils dilate, black invading the green and claiming more space.

“Can I mark you again?”

It’s a simple question. Sweet. Playful.

And absolutely, utterly unfair.

Dean’s grip on your hips tightens, fingers flexing against the thin fabric of your dress as he exhales a rough, breathy laugh. His eyes flicker across your face, scanning, searching, like he’s trying to figure out exactly what’s going on in that pretty, mischief-stirred head of yours. Curiosity gleams in your gaze, tangled with something softer, something just a little bit wicked.

Finally, he nods.

The dimple in his cheek deepens as he grins, and you don’t waste a second. Your fingers curl behind his neck, nails scratching lightly at the short hairs there as you lean in.

The first kiss is sweet, a playful press of your lips against the apple of his cheek. Then another. And another. Slow, deliberate, painting him in unmistakable red, each kiss a little more possessive than the last.

You trail lower, following the sharp line of his jaw, leaving smudged stains in your wake as you explore uncharted territory. The warmth of his skin meets the cool pigment of your lipstick, and something about the contrast sends a thrill down your spine.

When your lips press into the soft divot beneath the corner of his jaw, right where his pulse thrums beneath his skin, a quiet sound escapes him—a low, involuntary groan, barely audible but entirely unrestrained.

He stiffens beneath you, breath catching, fingers digging into your hips like he’s caught between pulling you closer and pushing you away.

And oh, you want to make him do that again.

The sound—deep, unguarded—lingers in the space between you, igniting something electric in your veins. Your lips tingle, the ghost of his skin still warm against them, and you wonder just how many more of those delicious little sounds you can pull from him if you keep going.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark now, heavy-lidded, the green swallowed up by something molten. There’s a hesitation there, a silent battle waging between logic and want.

He clears his throat, forcing out a rough chuckle, but it does little to mask the way his fingers still grip your hips like he’s holding himself back. “We should stop, right?”

Your lips—plump and smudged, a hazy reminder of every place they’ve been—pout slightly as you shake your head. “I don’t want to.”

It’s honest. Bare. No teasing lilt, no coy smile—just the simple truth, spoken like a confession.

And that confirmation is all Dean needed to hear.

His hands tighten on you, his restraint snapping like a frayed rope finally giving way. And this time, when he pulls you in, he isn’t holding back.

His lips crash against yours, claiming, devouring, a breath-stealing force of want and heat. One hand digs into your hip, fingers pressing into the curve like he’s anchoring himself, while the other slides up, calloused fingertips finding the sensitive space between your neck and jaw. He grips, not harshly but firmly, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, to pull you closer, like he needs you under his skin.

It’s a heated mess of smudged lipstick, reds blending together in a haze of desperation, staining his lips, his jaw—evidence of just how thoroughly you’ve marked him. Every brush of his mouth against yours sends another spark racing through you, pooling low in your belly, an ache that’s all too familiar when it comes to him.

But this time, there’s no layers of denial, no careful restraint.

Just the heat between you, growing, pulsing, an insistent throb against the thin stretch of your panties where he presses against you—solid, unyielding, and so damn tempting. The pressure is intoxicating, and before you can stop yourself, your hips move, rocking against him in a slow, desperate grind.

Dean groans into your mouth, the sound deep and ragged, vibrating through you like a struck chord. His grip on you tightens, nails biting into the fabric of your dress as his own restraint frays at the edges.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, burning with the instinctive need to chase that friction, to feel more of him. The heat is unbearable, twisting inside you like a coiled spring, making you move harder, more deliberately.

“Need more, Dean.” Your voice is a breathy whimper, your lips parted, glossed with smudged red as you look up at him through lidded eyes, pouty and desperate.

His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he takes you in, gaze darkening at the sight of you—flushed, needy, rolling against him without a second thought. He exhales sharply, his resolve crumbling with each slow drag of your hips.

He dips his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the contrast of tenderness against the heat between you making your stomach flip. “I can take care of that for you, sweetheart.”

Then, in one smooth motion, his arms shift—one curling under your thighs, the other pressing firm against the small of your back. He lifts you with effortless strength, adjusting himself against the headboard as he settles you more securely on his lap, spreading his legs just enough to ground you in place.

“Lift your hips for me.”

It’s a gentle command, but there’s no mistaking the weight behind it, the quiet authority that makes you obey without question. His hands guide you, steady and sure, fingers pressing firm into your skin as you shift your weight onto your knees, lifting just enough to let him take control.

Dean’s thumbs hook into the fabric of your dress, dragging it up, slow and deliberate, until it pools at your waist, leaving you exposed beneath him. The cool air kisses your thighs, a stark contrast to the heat rolling off your body, to the warmth of his touch as his palms skim over your navel, tracing the dip of your waist before sliding lower.

His hands map new territory, smoothing down, down, to the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His fingers graze the tender flesh, a barely-there touch that sends a sharp shiver rippling through you. Your body tenses, a quiet, involuntary tremor that makes Dean pause, his hands going still.

His gaze flicks up to yours, something unreadable flickering behind those deep green eyes, his touch hesitant now, gentle in a way that makes your heart ache. “We can stop here, love. It’s okay.”

His voice is quiet, rough around the edges, but so damn sincere it nearly undoes you.

But stopping now? When you’re this close, when every nerve in your body is alive with the need for more?

“No—please, no.” The words spill out in a breathless sigh, desperation laced into every syllable.

Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself, silently pleading. You don’t want space, don’t want hesitation—you just want him.

He nods, his breath warm against your skin as he leans down, his lips grazing your temple, trailing soft, almost reverent kisses down to your cheek. The sensation of each kiss sends a shiver down your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake as his fingers slip between your thighs, pressing gently into the space between them.

Your breath hitches, caught in your throat, as his touch moves lower, a slow, deliberate pressure against the fabric of your panties. The heat of his hand makes your body tremble, the delicate friction sending a surge of arousal through you, already soaking through the thin material.

The world narrows to the feel of him, his touch, his heat, everything else fading as his other hand wraps around the expanse of your neck. His grip is firm but not punishing, the hold just enough to tilt your head back, exposing you, leaving you vulnerable to him in the most intimate of ways.

Before you can think, his lips are on yours again, pulling you into a kiss that’s urgent, hungry, a perfect mix of passion and desperation. It’s all heat and yearning as his mouth claims yours, his fingers never ceasing their teasing, pressing against you with just the right amount of pressure, coaxing the response he wants from you as you moan into his open mouth.

He shoves your panties to the side, allowing space for his middle and index finger to plunge inside. His thumb presses into your clit, massaging and coaxing more sounds from your parted lips.

You sink deeper into his hand as he pumps in and out, reeling in the feeling and wanting more.

His lips leave yours, his lazy smirk back in place as the hand around your neck finds your hip again, “here,” he nods, eyes flickering over you, his satisfaction in watching you like this evident in the glow of his eyes. In the smile tugging at his lips.

“Move with me,” his eyes lock with yours as the hand on your hip guides you to rock against his hand.

Your hips follow his guide at first, but it’s too slow, too soft—your head drops, forehead against his shoulder as you grind your hips harder against his working hand. The wet sound of his knuckles coated in your arousal fills the room as his forearm flexes, his rhythm unrelenting.

The tension coiling in your stomach makes your breathing uneven, your thighs tightening around his. “Dean—“ you gasp, and it almost sounds like a question. Like you’re unsure of how to chase this feeling.

“That’s it, lovebird,” he whispers, his hand wrapping around your neck again with the slightest squeeze, “let go for me.”

His grip on your neck is just enough to make your mind go numb for a second. His hand working waves of pleasure, pumping into your core and breaking into your release.

He can’t get enough of the sight—his eyes drinking up the way your body tightens and temples at his touch. Watching his fingers claim the space no other man has gone. Your slick heat, pooling around his fingers, just for him.

Your hips buck and twitch, riding the come down as you collapse into his chest.

Dean’s hand glides along your spine, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in the aftermath. “You alright, little love?” His voice is softer now, a low rumble edged with something tender, something just for you.

You lift your head from where it had rested against his shoulder, the world still hazy around the edges as you blink up at him. Your cheeks are warm, flushed with pleasure, your breath still a little unsteady. But it’s the sight of him that nearly steals what’s left of it—Dean, utterly marked, his face a canvas of smudged red where your lips had claimed him. A streak across his jaw, a mark on his cheekbone, the ghost of your kisses staining the very curve of his mouth.

Your stomach flutters at the sight, at the proof of what you’ve done to him. A slow, sweet smile spreads across your lips, teasing and triumphant. “We should do that more often.”

Dean huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as his grip tightens around your waist. His lips curl into that cocky, dimpled smirk that always makes your stomach flip.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement.

Before you can tease him back, he moves, rolling you onto your back with effortless ease. A surprised giggle bursts from your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by the warmth of his mouth pressing light, playful kisses along your neck. His stubble grazes your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he hums against your pulse.

“I think we just might,” he whispers, his promise sealed in the way his lips linger against your skin.

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @ultravi0lence14 @dulcescorderitas @snowluvvie @jadenreallycool @soldiersgirl @abox-of-rocks

#dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x cupid!reader #dean winchester valentines day

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esccpism · 2 days ago

Text

[…] love is my religion—I could die for that.

it’s valentine’s day. ceo!ambessa gifts you flowers.

abstract: ambessa wants you. more: she wants you to chase. the problem is the time it takes—you’re a tough nut to crack, and the woman has never been good at waiting.

cw: ceo!ambessa x assistant!reader, groping, kissing, shy ambessa for .002 secs but don’t tell anyone, sub/dom themes, corporal punishment (r!reader), voyuerism, ambessa has you masturbate in front of her, older woman x younger woman, reader is fat/plus sized

wc: 3.9k

fic inspired by this artwork by @/RoseYSD13 on twitter. heart skipped like 12 full beats. header inspired by the lovely @hcneymooners.

the year marches onwards.

if you catch the day early enough, time seems to pause and suspend; a breath you could almost hold in your hand.

it’s four in the morning—and so ambessa changes in her office today. and you stand, staring forward, only stealing glances when her back is turned.

she gets ready for as long as two hours, at times, when it’s early enough and the preliminary steps of her routine haven't already been run through at her home. such days are rare. she’s perfect in every other instance, she’s perfect even now. skin and scars, tight and flexible, choking up the room with her overpowering perfume.

you don’t know why she allows you to guard her incompletion. but then again, you’re fresh, and new. you aren’t worth much to her at all.

“haven’t i taught you manners, child?”

your eyes snap back to position. she hasn’t turned even a modicum, but of course it’s a gamble worth taking—her muscles practically ripple like water. the sun simmers against her skin. it’s asking the impossible to not watch them stretch and contract as she bends.

you allowed yourself it and nothing else, avoiding the dip low in her back where safety ends and the curve of her ass begins.

“come,” she beckons, “and help me out of this suit.”

you bob your head, and no hair spills out of your tight bun this time.

dress shoes click and reverberate in the wide and endless room, traveling ages before bouncing off the walls. she says nothing and so neither do you. the time passes, you can tell only by the morning waking outside. unbuttoning the corset becomes your primary objective and you do it with steadfast attention, ignoring her stomach tensing each time your fingers brush the vulnerable skin. ignoring her stomach entirely. ignoring the fact she is wearing no bra underneath and how her full breasts swell towards you beseechingly.

when you finish unraveling the intricate set of satin ribbons and pull the heavy fabric away from her torso, she lets you fold it neatly and place it atop her desk before pressing in, correcting your posture for you.

a hand tickles your stomach, finger under your chin, raising your line of sight until it meets with hers.

”don’t steal glances. i won’t remind you again.”

you nod as best as you can. your post might be fucked—though you don’t have a moment to let the grief wrack through you. “take wholly, or not at all. i won’t have any nibbling around me.”

gripping now, ambessa carries your chin and levels it so you are staring directly at her bare body.

“tell me. what are you feeling?”

“satisfaction, ma’am. i am honored to learn from you, and happy i was able to be of service to you.”

she sighs, and tuts. ”i told them to get rid of that stupid training video. i don’t want a robot tending to me. do you understand me?”

you nod. no hesitation, because she hates the scent, smells it like a dog smells fear.

“once more.” she relaxes your face and steps to your right, curls around you like a lioness circling its prey. “what are you feeling?”

”curiosity.” your eyes flicker to follow her, then keep straight ahead.

“around?”

“around you, ma’am.”

“good girl.” she stops her orbit directly in front of you, and drags her seat over. leans back, body open, legs spread. “satiate it.”

you pat your hands briefly on your dress pants—she interjects with a wily smile, “don’t be afraid, dear.” and you bite back an i’m not before it snaps from you, sharp as a knife.

you sink forward, distantly aware of your hanging cleavage. growing far more aware from how unabashedly she stares at it. you trail your nails down from her ear lobe, across her neck, watch her shiver at the pressure on her throat. you dip then, and politely squeeze her tit in your hand.

she scoffs, and then laughs, a tinkling, rich, barberry sound.

“callow,” she says. “you search like you are reading off my monthly estimates. have you no hunger?”

“i have hunger,” you retaliate, eyes alight. you pinch, and her brows flicker, arching into the pain near imperceptibly.

“but my job does not demand my hunger, ma’am. it only requires that i compartmentalize.” quite literally. you retract your hand and fold it behind you. ”allow me to return to my work.”

she leans her head back, face unreadable as she takes you in. seconds pass, and then the cloud passes as well. she waves you off, sounding bored. “very well. i’ll call you should i need you again.”

⚘

she tends to need you often.

it would seem actually, that she couldn’t do anything by herself were you to be zapped away tomorrow.

she enjoys when you pull the chair out for her, and requests it each time she returns to her desk. says heartily that it makes her feel regal. the cafe on the ground floor has a daily special that she orders three of, at three separate times in the afternoon, sending you on a fourth trip with a lofty tip for the barista should she have enjoyed all three instances. the lines are unbearably long, since the coffee tends towards being delicious. you make the fourth trip often.

her write ups, the real work: which loan repayment negotiations are still underway—there are many—and which partnering fell through—there are many. getting cussed out over the phone on her behalf. day trips across the city and long nights bent over blue light and ass-early mornings, awake even before the sun.

it’s…a demanding job, at its worst.

work breaks are terse at their best, and your coworkers are a restless bunch. they ask you questions, hoping the pressure will, at what is perhaps the 20,001st attempt, eventually give way.

ruler with an iron fist. does she even have emotions pulsing in there? you must’ve seen it, seen her slip. it’s psychopathic, how she’s so good at smiling. a wolf trying to hide its teeth.

here, these people, they don’t nurture expression. self wilts and dies here. that’s what got you at her side in the first place. you were always so loud, anyway, always too much. your mother told you to swallow yourself before the earth tears open its mouth and does it for you.

so you swallow, and you keep your teeth together, and you don’t say a word.

they’re right. you have seen it. ambessa’s smile befalls you often, and her touch is kind, when it grazes the small of your back.

she takes like a tyrant. she desires unceasingly. this you know.

you leave an afternoon with her mangled or otherwise changed, fundamentally at the parts. she so easily finds the fleshy soft of your belly, where it gives way with no resistance, and wraps a jaw around it. settles down to the marrow. your training was this, over and over, every mundane afternoon. eaten and spat back out. you’d be lucky to leave the night with any part of you still intact.

it was meant to make you human—this you couldn’t understand. i don’t want a robot tending to me, she’d instructed.

tell me. what do you feel?

what your coworkers don’t acknowledge is that absolute deference weakens in the face of idiosyncrasies. it's far more effective to strip a thing naked and leave it trembling out in the cold—completely numb the senses. a tyrant cannot rule a person. your brain must be empty so that they might squirm inside.

ambessa does not squirm.

she digs. afternoons change and shift, not yet stretching towards the light, but stretching nonetheless.

you pick inside yourself and place it down before ambessa—at her bequest: your runaway mother, how you hadn’t cried at your brother’s funeral, your bite-sized calico, your tamagotchi collection—and she watches every item splayed like a buffet with a fever that warms, that singes—you nearly snatch yourself back from the simmering air, afraid to lose yourself in her belly. to the licking flame of her tongue.

her hand extends across the table. it crosses the sheets of daily agendas and your laptop and the stack of reports, crosses seas towards you. she lands softly on your chin, and travels to cradle your cheek.

“are you happy here?” she unloads.

“of course, ma’am.”

her frown makes a hearth of her face. “give me the honest answer.”

“here at this position, or here with your fingers taking my face?”

“either,” she says, lowly. “both,” she corrects.

you ease a foot on the gas pedal. you aren’t sure what’s gotten into you, but it drums in your thighs like a second heartbeat. ”then, if i said i wasn't?”

she’s silent, and then her hand slips off. the heat follows her, and your body creaks forward before your brain catches up. chasing.

“then i would release you.” she folds her hands. “and i wouldn’t allow anyone else to have you.”

“i would no longer be yours, ma’am.”

“i may have no use for a pet with reservations, that does not mean i could stand someone else having what i can’t.”

“then must i repeat myself, too?”

the air quivers. the admission breaks inside your chest. her smile curls tight inside you and doesn’t let go.

“indulge me.”

“i’m happy here,” you indulge her. you really say—i’m happy it’s you. you press it into the gaping, leaking space between you, right next to your stewn out innards and idiosyncrasies. right to where her fingers fold on the table. “you’ve got a hand like a fireplace. i don’t mind when you touch, or when you take. above everything it’s the warmth i feel first.”

⚘

the pet names begin shortly thereafter.

only in private, but strong contenders each time—

would you fetch me another coffee, pet?

ah, my pretty dove. you’ve cleaned up sharply today.

come closer, little one. sit. there’s space for you, and i want you near me.

each cuts accordingly, chips at you in intentional ways. she’s relentless and unmerciful. she drags you around and does so easily; you bend for her like a lily. under her strong hands she directs you how to stand during meetings, at what angle to arch when pouring her drinks, at what angle to bow at each of her contemporaries as they enter.

she’s sat with her legs splayed, gaze sharp as she pushes in between your shoulder blades. a shudder slides down through the tendon until your knees threaten collapse.

”head low, and shoulders squared, little lamb. even in civility don’t forget whose you are.”

you couldn’t, not with the dents her fingers press into the tumbling skin of your back. it’ll surely leave marks. it’s only fair.

⚘

ambessa smiles when you enter—she always had, but these are toothier as of late, more disarming. you are startled by them each time.

you offer her one back that probably more closely resembles a wince, and then duck your head and the indignant flush that rises.

⚘

”i’ve brought coffee,” she announces with gusto, swishing in one morning. the pinks and lilacs outside grace the silhouette of her broad shoulders as she swoops down to place one of two in front of you. “tell me if it’s to your liking, so i may have someone replace it if not.”

your mouth unhinges, staring up at her dumbly. “ma’am—coffee runs are my job.”

“and an overly drab one. i didn’t know the lines were so long.”

she waits expectantly, and with a start you reach for the cup, hesitating, slowly tipping it back. it tingles on your tongue—spice and caramel. she watches it slide down your throat with rapt interest, eyes finding yours immediately when you settle the cup back down.

“it’s—good. it’s delicious.”

her grin spreads like wildfire. ”i’ll have them preserve it on the menu. it will be our daily order.”

��ma’am,” you try helplessly, but she pushes forward, leaning her weight on the desk.

she towers, casting a harsh shadow as the sun erects behind her. she might be glowing, or maybe it’s your eyes crossing as she tips over, far too close. ambessa dabs at the corner of your lip, carefully moving around your makeup and the mauve paint to your mouth.

“you’ve a stain, pet.”

her carefulness promptly exits her body through parted lips as she pushes, slipping her thumb into your mouth.

your body jumps. ambessa’s eyes lid as she regards you. “clean it off,” she says.

no hesitation. your tongue snakes out and wraps around the thick digit, suctioning softly. her large hand swallows the line of drool that escapes.

she pops it out, stained now with worse than mere coffee.

“you were saying?”

heart thundering in your throat, you slowly shake your head, swallowing around a newly dried mouth. “‘wasn’t. ma’am.”

she smiles. reaches sideways for your tissue box, and draws away.

⚘

in a turn of events, ambessa has you over her lap—fifteen strokes for standing too closely behind an attendee.

she says it’s because he’s a propagandist, how do you think it looks having my attendant whine herself against my biggest proponent? but her voice had clipped sharply and she'd demanded you untuck your chin from your chest and lower your skirt and recount exactly how it had happened.

her hand collides with the bare flesh of your ass, and it ripples, sharp singing through you at the point of contact. you gasp out, a strangled thing. she shushes you quietly, soothing the bruising spot.

”how did he feel against your cunt? hm?”

her finger slips, just grazing just grazing the damp folds through the thick pulp of your thighs. you whimper softly, pushing back against her touch.

”like nothing at all,” you pant, “ma’am.”

“i was under the impression you were happy here.” it’s sudden as a thunder clap, her hand lands again, and your body locks with divine will so as not to rock forward on the muscle of her thigh.

your voice breaks around a hiccup. you wish you hadn’t in you to be embarrassed, but all there is is ambessa. she overtakes and overloads. even the cold walnut desk smells of her. “yes ma’am. i am very happy here.“

“then display it to me better.”

you nod, tearily, frantically. your face buried in your folded arms makes it hard for your yes’m to make itself intelligible. ambessa doesn’t mind. isn’t finished.

“anything you need you must receive from me. understand? your robust pain, your inane pleasures. only through me.”

her hand presses against your back, testing your state, and your breathing jumps and shudders under her fingers. she coos softly, gracing them up your back and carding her fingers through your hair, massaging at the scalp.

“i’m going to sit you up, sweet girl. let me see your face.”

you’re all over her thigh when she lifts you. you gape, she gazes. swipes at your slick and licks it into her mouth.

“would you like me to handle it?”

“no, ma’am, i’m terribly sorry—i’m not sure what came over me—“

”if you wish to handle it yourself,” she interrupts, and swings her arm out before her, gesturing at a low seated sofa and pile of pillows, “sit right there where i can see you.”

her legs rest eagled, arms bent over her knees, eyes ravenous as she watches you pound your fingers into yourself. your moans jump out stilted and quiet. it’s not enough, it’s nowhere near enough. you need her inside you. you know she could stretch you out so good.

it’s chasing you, it’s chasing you, and your body rolls into your stuttering fingers, your heel reaching pathetically for your clit.

“such a good girl,” ambessa murmurs.

and the moan bubbles out of you like a wail, body climbing towards heaven as your orgasm ascends on you. white hot crashing waves you ride yourself through, hips jumping and twitching until you collapse back into yourself. pleasure tingling in you like an aftertaste.

she strides over immediately, presses a kiss to the top of your head. leaves and return, cleans you off with a warm, wet hand towel and dresses you with fresh clothing, helping your hands through the sleeves, slow and deliberate. she says nothing the whole while. so you say nothing in return.

when she’s finished and she’s satisfied, she sits you in front of a hearty meal.

it’s still hot and you don’t know when she had called for it—but you’re drained and you're grateful, and you take her kindness without complaint.

ambessa sits across from you, watches you eat. satisfaction smoothes her face out.

“are you happy here, little one?”

you glance up from your fork of chicken. she cradles you with her eyes.

it’s a given that you won’t report tonight. too many HR violations to count and technically it’d be your job to file and forward them all. you’ll have to reach for the CCTV footage as well, aware contemporaries come with varying intentions. you know the footage will not be bad at all. it was merely a brush, a push, a passing by—and you know it will not matter. just as it had not tonight.

despite it all stillness resides in you. just the way you like it.

“yes, ma’am. i’m happy.”

⚘

your work continues as usual. her hands remain gentle. you remember them on your body like the frozen earth remembers spring.

⚘

“i’d like your opinion,” her voice sings through the air, and you rise from your chair to indulge her. “which of these three do you believe suits me better?”

you hum, crossing your arms over your chest. it delights her, and mirth dances in her eyes.

“mahogany, as always. brings out your eyes.”

she lets the other two fold over her arm. ”well. aren’t you a sweet talker.”

”i’ll adjust my speech with you if you enjoy it, ma’am.“

“watch yourself,” she points. after a moment you allow yourself a little grin, one she drinks in and guzzles, exhaling sharp. berating on hold, too busy grinning back.

⚘

she wants you, and she leaves it scattered all over the place. makes it so obvious as to practically scream it from every rooftop.

she stares, she appears around your desk, hovers, frets when you are dressed too light for the weather—frets. the iron fisted tyrant. too warm to let you numb to the cold.

ambessa continues to change in front of you again and again, now with your added commentary. she welcomes your input, lets you see every curve of her breast and dip in her stomach—eyes follow you like incandescent light, curiosity, or more so daring your gaze to dip, to explore. to devour like a rabid tongue.

shouting from the rooftops without hearing herself echoed back isn’t something she’d ever commit to long, anyway.

ambessa grows increasingly frustrated with your fastidiousness and pushes and presses inwards. suffocates, encircles. as she does.

“i wasn’t trained for massages,” you tell her in vain. it verges on complaint, and she waves it off.

“you weren’t trained for many things, yet you hold up excellently.”

it’s high praise, she knows what she’s doing. your cheeks bruise, anyway.

“if you wish to be paid for it, i can arrange that.“

“no payment.” you say. “…ma’am. it stains it.”

“ah.” her head tips back, catches your gaze, a small smile at her mouth at the fluster in your face. “i see.”

with sleeves rolled to your elbows, your hands work her shoulders. dips into her sharp clavicle, unwinds and unravels the string of muscle and the plate of bone.

“lower, dove.” she crumbles under your touch, and your chest pangs where her silvery, pillowy coils tickle your stomach, as she sags into you. “deeper. you’ve the arms for it. i won’t break.“

she’s broken already. fragments of her spill supple into your hands, drenching your fingertips, caking under your nails. she melts like candle wax and swallows the flame.

it’s a simple revelation, and nothing that you hadn’t known. she’s beautiful. nips the breath right out of your lungs. you know she’d gleam if you told her—and so you do, rehearsing her lines in your head the microsecond before she acts them each out, a tensing, a shifting, a pleasant hum, rising in pitch. pride, preening like a bird. a charmed grin about her.

like water in a river. she’s predictable these days, but you’ll keep that one for yourself.

⚘

february marches onwards.

a quirk of her’s you’ve noticed: she decorates for every holiday without fail, even the ones she does not formally celebrate.

you would wonder what sub-intelligent lick your coworkers have to offer about it if you were given the chance to think at all.

you sign out of your laptop that night and step through the sliding doors the next morning, bright and early and instantaneously the bursts of red and gold slap you right in the face, just as if you’d stumbled into the sun.

every floor is like this, until you reach hers—and she’s waiting for you, the most flabbergasting yet—and swathed in her arms is a bouquet of red carnations and roses.

your stunned gaze picks out a single golden rose among the bloodbath. it’s an unimportant detail. but her face waits right above it, and you don’t know yet what to do with that.

“thank you for the hard work,” she starts, extending the garden towards you. “you’ve been a good employee.”

you stare. ambessa hates hesitation, you know this, but your head and your heart pull pitilessly in opposite directions with you inbetween, tearing like a piece of paper down the middle.

with steeled hands you relieve it from her, and have to hoist it against your body—you aren’t as strong as she is.

“why?”

“take it as an investment. you strengthen me, my vision. my life’s work. i hope to rely on you for a long time.”

you search for a tell on her face, but she gives you nothing. exasperation enters your voice as a last ditch effort.

“a note on my desk would have sufficed.”

“do you know me to merely ’suffice’?” ambessa crosses her arms, shoulders rising towards the ceilings, like you’re the one being difficult. “read between the lines, dear.”

“i am. it’s why i’m asking why.”

she exhales. raises her chin. “and i’ve told you. personal afflictions.” she gestures towards it, arms waving vaguely before folding back under her chest. “i wasn’t—sure what color you might like.”

her arms unfold as if relenting, relinquishing—bearing her chest open. she leans back to regard you, hands supporting her weight behind her. the words are quiet and cut thin through the air.

“are you dissatisfied?”

“no. never, ma’am. never with you.”

you stare at her, then down at the flowers you can barely peek over, then back at her, across her face, her neck beginning to resemble the bouquet the wider the silence expands—and—and—

you extend your hand to her arm, reaching blindly until you land, and her bicep tenses once under your touch.

“just hungry.” your eyes flicker to her lips.

she sinks into you like a feeding wolf. you aren’t sure where the flowers crash to, you don’t care. her mouth is as the rest of her—tender and all consuming. you offer yourself to her as a sacrifice, whimpering as you crumple in her arms. her skin smells overwhelming under your hands, her face cradled by your shaking fingers—of creamy vanilla, of baby powder and fresh sheets, enchanting, clothes drenched in amber accord. powerful and near unbearable and expanding like a balloon in your throat.

the urgency rises like a migraine, the need to gasp for air. gently, you shove it back down. not now, you whisper to your weeping heart. more important matters at hand.

©esccpism

RAHHHHHH thank you so much for reading. she’s perfect. i want her to bend me like a plastic fork.

#arcane #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #ambessa x you #ambessa league of legends #ambessa chosen of the wolf #ambessa arcane #lesbian #sapphic #arcane smut #arcane x reader #wlw smut #ambessa x fem reader

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sinkuna · 6 hours ago

Text

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.

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bearforcecaptions · 2 days ago

Text

It started innocently enough. A text buzzed on my phone at 7:00 AM sharp as I blearily smacked the alarm off my nightstand. I squinted at the screen, still half-asleep.

“You’ve been chosen. Reply YES to begin.”

Chosen? I assumed it was spam and set the phone down. I was 37, single, short, and covered in an unflattering layer of thick body hair. Years of poor diets and no exercise had left me chubby and soft. I looked like a man who had given up. What did “chosen” mean for someone like me?

Then the phone buzzed again. This time, the message seemed bolder, the text sharper against the screen:

“Reply YES to become who you were always meant to be.”

I stared at the words. A strange hum began in the back of my mind, faint but insistent, like an itch I couldn’t scratch. I hovered over the screen. I didn’t want to reply. I shouldn’t reply. But my hand moved as though it had a will of its own. I tapped out “YES” and hit send.

The phone vibrated immediately:

“Good choice. Time to begin. Lose the shirt.”

Lose the shirt? I frowned, unsure if I should laugh or scream. But then it happened—a prickling warmth that started at the base of my neck and spread across my shoulders, down my chest. I scratched at my skin, suddenly burning. The itching grew sharper, deeper, until it was unbearable.

I ripped off my shirt, my breath coming in quick gasps. My chest felt… lighter. I glanced at the mirror, my heart plummeting. My chest hair… it was receding, dissolving into my skin. I stepped closer. It wasn’t just my hair. My chest itself looked different. My pale, flabby pecs seemed firmer, the skin smoother, tanner. The skin stretched, my reflection shimmering slightly, like heat rippling in summer air.

“No,” I whispered, backing away. My voice sounded strange—lower, richer, but tremulous. My reflection flickered again. I swore I looked taller… straighter… but that couldn’t be right. My shadow on the wall stretched longer than I remembered, its proportions wrong. I blinked hard, but the distortion lingered.

The phone buzzed again. My hands trembled as I picked it up.

“Looking better. Go for a run. You need to move.”

A run? I couldn’t run. My knees wouldn’t take it. But even as I thought the words, the itch returned—this time in my legs, deep and unrelenting, like something inside me was breaking free. I looked down, horrified as my calves visibly tensed, the muscles rippling beneath my skin. My sneakers were by the door—were they always so spotless? So perfectly white?

The thought dissolved as my body moved of its own accord. I slipped them on, my fingers fumbling clumsily at the laces… but then they cinched tight, snug and perfect, as though molded to me.

The door opened as I stumbled outside. My feet struck the pavement. At first, my gait was uneven, unfamiliar… but the further I went, the easier it became. My steps lengthened. My legs stretched, bones and muscles expanding as I moved. I ran faster than I ever thought possible, faster than I ever could. The wind whistled past my ears. My thighs burned with an electric heat, and I felt them tightening, growing, swelling with strength I didn’t understand.

The world blurred around me, trees and cars streaking like paint on canvas. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a parked car window—a tall, lean figure, chest heaving but strong, running effortlessly. My breath hitched. I almost tripped. That wasn’t me… was it? My short, squat legs had vanished, replaced by long, muscular limbs that moved with impossible grace. My face…

I forced myself to look away and ran harder.

When I finally stopped, I was outside a gym I didn’t recognize. It loomed in front of me, clean and sleek, its sliding glass doors glowing faintly under the morning sun. My phone buzzed again.

“Go in. Your session awaits.”

I wiped sweat from my forehead and turned to leave… but my feet wouldn’t move. The itch was back—in my arms, in my shoulders. My body ached to lift, to strain. I turned back to the gym. The doors slid open soundlessly as I approached, beckoning me inside.

The air hit me like a wave: clean, sharp, laced with the scent of iron and sweat. I should’ve been disgusted, but it felt grounding… familiar. I stepped inside. A receptionist—a guy I’d never seen before—nodded at me like I belonged there.

“Late today, huh?” he said with a grin.

I swallowed thickly, my throat dry. I didn’t know him, but his words didn’t feel wrong. My feet carried me to a locker in the back, where I found a bag waiting for me—a sleek black bag with my name stitched into the side. My name.

I unzipped it, pulling out a tank top and shorts, pristine and athletic. My trembling hands stripped my sweat-soaked clothes, my eyes darting to the mirror on the wall. My chest was different. Pecs pushed outward, hard and defined. My arms… smooth, tanned, veins threading their way up my forearms. I looked taller. My legs—thick, powerful, carved with striations I didn’t recognize.

The phone buzzed.

“Lift. Heavy. You know what to do.”

I didn’t question it. My body carried me to the racks, loading plates effortlessly. The barbell felt good in my grip—like it belonged there. Each lift was easy at first, then harder… but the burn was exhilarating. My body drank it in, my muscles swelling. I caught my reflection—a tall, confident man with a smirk I didn’t recognize. Was that… me?

When I left the gym, I didn’t feel scared anymore. The streets looked brighter, cleaner, as if the world had sharpened. My body hummed. I walked with a swagger I couldn’t stop.

At home—if it could still be called that—the apartment was unrecognizable. The grimy carpet and peeling wallpaper were gone, replaced by smooth hardwood floors and modern, minimalist walls in muted tones. The cluttered mess that once filled the space had vanished, replaced by sleek black and chrome furniture that screamed wealth and precision. A massive bed—king-sized with a perfectly ironed, deep green duvet—dominated the room, flanked by matching nightstands with tasteful lamps. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows I knew weren’t there before, giving the space an airy, expensive glow.

My heart pounded as I moved through the room, my footsteps softened by a plush rug that stretched across the floor. Gym equipment—a polished set of dumbbells and a weight bench—was arranged neatly in the corner, as if waiting for me. On the opposite side of the room, a gleaming shelf displayed protein powders, shaker bottles, and a row of vitamins like trophies. I froze, staring at the items, my mind foggy. None of this was mine… yet it felt like it always had been. A strange sense of ownership crept over me, erasing the last dregs of unease.

I ran a hand over the sleek surface of the dresser, where neatly folded gym clothes sat waiting—tanks, fitted shirts, athletic shorts. A faint scent lingered in the air—clean, musky, mine. I swallowed hard, my pulse slowing as the tension in my chest faded. It was all perfect. Better than I could have ever imagined.

I took a hesitant step toward the massive bed, its deep green duvet somehow inviting. My body ached from the workout, but it was a satisfying ache—a good kind of pain. Without even thinking, I sat down on the edge, the mattress firm but comfortable beneath me. A strange sense of ease washed over me as I sank back onto the pillows, legs stretching out across the bed as though I belonged there.

The sunlight streamed through the tall windows, warming my skin. I stared at the ceiling for a long moment, my chest rising and falling steadily. For the first time all day, I felt still—but not out of place. The tension I had been carrying, the lingering confusion, all of it seemed distant now, like something that didn’t matter anymore.

My phone buzzed on the pristine nightstand, breaking the quiet. I turned my head lazily, almost relieved to hear it, as though it grounded me in this new reality. I reached over, my fingers curling around it easily, the screen glowing faintly:

“Upload your selfie and forget you were ever anyone else.”

I sat back lazily on the bed, leaning onto one elbow as I stretched out, legs sprawled wide in front of me. My thighs—thick, strong, and defined—were framed perfectly by the tight black briefs I hadn’t even realized I was wearing, the fabric clinging to my body in all the right ways. My chest, still flushed from the workout, rose and fell steadily, every breath making the defined curves of my pecs stand out. The sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the smooth tan of my skin, making the faint lines of veins on my forearms and biceps look almost deliberate, like they belonged on a statue.

The corner of my mouth curled into a lazy smirk as I turned on the camera, the phone already in my hand, its weight feeling natural. The screen flashed to life, and the reflection staring back at me was perfect—a sharp jawline angled just right by the sunlight streaming through the windows, dark hair tousled messily yet somehow flawlessly, and eyes gleaming with a cocky, knowing confidence. My chest, still flushed from the earlier workout, looked broad and solid, the light casting faint shadows across the defined curves of my pecs.

I adjusted slightly, leaning back further into the pillows as I sprawled out, my thick, powerful thighs taking up the frame. The snug black briefs I wore clung perfectly to me, the fabric highlighting every inch of muscle—quads that looked carved from stone and calves flexed lazily. My legs spread wider as though by instinct, one foot, still clad in a clean white sock, resting casually in the foreground. The sunlight danced across the tanned, smooth skin of my forearms, catching on the faint veins threading up toward my biceps, which flexed subtly as I held the phone aloft.

I tilted the camera, ensuring the angle captured everything—my smirk, my body stretched across the bed, the sheer effortlessness of it all. It was perfect. I didn’t even need to think about it. The words slipped out, low and satisfied:

“Perfect.”

I snapped the photo, letting the moment linger for a second longer, and then uploaded it to Instagram without hesitation.

I toss my phone onto the bed and stretch, kicking my legs out and flexing absently. The day’s barely started, but the gym’s already done its work—my quads are still burning in the best way.

The group chat pings, and I glance at it, smirking. Plans for tonight? Always. I grab a water bottle off the nightstand, take a long swig, and flex my bicep without even thinking about it.

The sunlight feels good. I lean back, scratching idly at my chest. The world’s as it should be. Everything feels right.

#male transformation

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woozinhos · 1 day ago

Note

vernon gives the vibe of someone who LOVES eating pussy. i would love if u wrote a lil fic where vernon comes just from eating u out so doesn’t even want/need to fuck u

Notes: I’m backkk hope you enjoy this one!!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You and Vernon were in your bedroom, the air thick with tension and anticipation. He had you pinned down on the bed, his body pressed against yours as he kissed you hungrily.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck. "I couldn't concentrate on anything else." You moaned softly as his hands roamed over your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He was already hard, his desire for you evident through his jeans. Vernon continued to kiss and suck on your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys as he made his way down to your chest.

He reached up and pulled off your shirt, his eyes roaming over your bare skin with appreciation. Vernon moved lower, his lips trailing down your stomach until he reached the waistband of your panties. He looked up at you with a hungry gaze, his eyes dark with desire.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his fingers tracing the lacey edge of your panties. "I can't get enough of you." He kissed the fabric gently, his tongue darting out to tease you through the thin material. You moan again, arching your back as he continued to tease you with his mouth. Vernon was relentless, his tongue working its way under the fabric of your panties and exploring your most sensitive areas. He groaned against you, his hands gripping your thighs as he held you in place.

"You taste so good," he said, his voice muffled against your skin. "I could do this all day." He pulled your panties down and threw them aside, exposing you fully to his hungry gaze. He leaned in and buried his face between your legs, his tongue swirling around your clit in a way that made you gasp and writhe beneath him. You could feel the heat building up inside you as Vernon continued to eat you out, his tongue working in perfect harmony with his lips and fingers. He knew exactly how to drive you wild, and he was doing it with ease.

"Oh, Vernon," you moaned, your hands gripping the sheets as you struggled to keep yourself from bucking against his face. "I'm so close..." Vernon hummed against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. He slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right as he continued to suck on your clit. Vernon's own arousal was growing by the second, and he couldn't help but grind his hips against the bed as he continued to pleasure you. The sounds of your moans and gasps were driving him wild, and he was desperate for release.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his voice hoarse with need. "You're driving me crazy." He increased the pace of his fingers, pumping them in and out of you as he sucked harder on your clit. He was so hard that it was almost painful, his jeans feeling impossibly tight against his throbbing erection. You could see the bulge in Vernon's jeans, and you knew he was struggling to hold back. You reached down and grabbed his hair, pulling him closer to you as you neared your climax.

"Don't stop," you panted, your body shaking with pleasure. "I'm gonna cum..." Vernon didn't need any more encouragement. He doubled his efforts, his fingers working faster and harder as he pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name as you came, your body convulsing with pleasure.

Vernon couldn't get enough of you, and as he watched you come down from your high, he knew he wasn't done yet. He couldn't stop himself from continuing to eat you out, his tongue moving in a frenzy as he chased his own release. Vernon's moans mixed with yours as he continued to grind against the bed, his body trembling with need. He was so close to the edge, but he didn't want to stop tasting you.

"I'm gonna cum in my pants," he groaned, his voice muffled against you. "I can't hold it anymore." Vernon tried to hide his orgasm, but it was too late. He let out a deep, guttural moan as he came, his cum soaking through his boxers and staining the front of his jeans.

He slumped forward, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath. "Damn it," he muttered, looking down at the mess he had made. "I didn't mean to do that."You looked up at Vernon, a mixture of surprise and amusement on your face. "Looks like you enjoyed yourself," you teased, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face.

Vernon chuckled weakly, still trying to recover from his intense orgasm. "Yeah, I did," he admitted, blushing slightly. "But I didn't mean to ruin my pants." You giggle and reach out to caress his cheek. "It's okay, baby," you say soothingly. "You can always take them off." Vernon's blush deepens, and he looks down at you with a sheepish grin. "I guess I should have thought of that before I came all over myself," he joked.

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faiszt · 3 days ago

Text

⠀⠀⭑⠀𝆬⠀⠀CLOSE ENOUGH:⠀✴⠀ r. cameron.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ minors do not interact.

PAIRING:⠀s2!rafe x stalker!reader.

†⠀⠀LISTEN TO:⠀close enough by ava morse.

wordcount: 3.7k⠀⠀|⠀⠀CONTAINS: ⠀ smut content. violent behavior. obsessive behavior. hard / strong language. drug mentions. kidnapping. face sitting. rough sex. slightly size kink. p in v. unprotected sex. dirty talk. face fucking & tits sucking.⠀ minors who interact with this will be blocked.

꒰ SILLY NOTES:⠀hi, sweets! i still don’t have a masterlist and stuff, i know, but i just really needed to write this. also, this is my first time writing a smut in my life, so... forgive me for any mistakes, i swear i'm trying and i’d be so happy if you could tell me what you think of it.⠀⠀⠀⠀(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) 💬 ♡

there were two perfect words to describe you from what rafe thought: kind and sweet. so sweet, the kind that made him stop and think ‘what hole did you crawl out of?’ well, in a honest answer, the hole you crawled out of was hell. this isn't a silly little joke, it's reality, your sweetness was the perfect counterpart to the kind of obsessive and insane devil you've become since the day you laid eyes on him.

it took rafe longer to figure this out than you had anticipated before starting this freak game between you.

if he needed someone lovely, you'd be her. if he needed someone gentle, you'd be her. but, if he needs someone as crazy and fucked up as he is? his lucky day, you were all of that without even having to hide it with cute clothes and a damsel in distress demeanor.

150 days that you knew him, 150 photos of him kept in the last drawer of your dresser, right under your panties like a stupid plan not very calculated, but existing. a photo a day that you wisely chose every time you followed him around like an abandoned puppy, finding out things about him and his life was part of the shameless fun.

and each time he accidentally noticed you, you acted as he expected you to act. a confused expression and a gentle smile, pretending you were doing anything that a weirdo would, acting like it was purely fate putting you in the same place as him. what kind of shitty fate was this? god could only be punishing you for putting you in each other's lives.

but, no siege was impossible to close, and eventually, the pieces fell right into place in his mind. too late, he was the little mouse that bit the cheese in the mousetrap.

not that his insanity had reached its limit—you were never any different from that—it was just something you wanted to do and felt he needed, given how much stress you'd watched him go through lately. it wasn't wrong, was it? it was just love, no matter how strange, violent, and intense.

just a little help, you wouldn't hurt him... you'd just show that you can take care of him as well as anyone else since no one would take care of him if not you. plus, in the meantime, he could taste his own medicine with someone just like him, or worse.

“what the...” his eyes opened with difficulty, a throbbing pain in his head and his body limp, tingling, almost struggling to move. a dimly lit room, definitely not his room, unless he had been drugged enough to forget how he got there—which was what it looked like. “that’s all i needed now.” rafe thought he was talking to himself.

until he notices you there, sitting in front of your desk, swinging your feet with only one side of the earphone in your left ear, scribbling something. how cute, he thought, not thinking really much about it and when he did, well, he knew he was so fucked.

hands tied to the headboard, he wouldn't even question how you managed to drag him there, but there he was, gagged on a girl's bed. he could kick you if you came near, if it weren't for the clear fact that you both knew he wouldn't do it, first 'cause he wasn't afraid of you, second 'cause he wanted to know how far you'd go.

honestly, if you didn't go all the way, he'd make you go all the way with him since you were the one who brought him here, you had to do something about it now.

“are you plannin’ to make me die here or just playin’ some insane weirdo game, princess?” he shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position—even though nothing felt comfortable when his wrists were gagged. he was just trying to get your attention. was it strange that he was finding this too interesting and appealing to simply want to run away?

you turned in your chair, taking the earphone out as you left your pencil on the table. his eyebrows slowly rose when he noticed you was you, the acting was good, he had to admit, not every girl who was into him would simply gag him in her bed like he was her own doll. it was confusing, arousing, a lot of things his mind was trying to think about.

“you looked stressed, i just wanted to make you relax.” you mumbled with a sweet, albeit fake, smile, still swinging your feet in the air. so handsome, you thought, watching him with his disheveled hair and looking so vulnerable to you. “are you relaxed, rafe? or you need me to help you again?” 'cause there wasn't a single thing you wouldn't do for him at this point.

your smile only made him let out a nasal laugh, looking away for a brief moment as he stared at the ceiling. “nice way to relax someone, huh?” he scoffed. “but, since you’re offering... i think i’d be more relaxed if you let my wrists go from that rope.” he tried to suggest, blue eyes looking at you again with a disguised pleading, as if he could actually convince you like that.

“you look better this way.” you grumbled, standing up and walking over to sit on the edge of your bed, his knee lightly brushing against you for a moment. “but, if you wanna leave, i’m not really stopping you. just say the word and we both pretend it never happened.”

“but, i don’t wanna pretend it didn't happen... and i don’t wanna leave either.” he wouldn't say it out loud, but secretly he thought you were kinda wimp. what? you just do all of it and brought him here to... well, nothing? no, no, he knew you could do better than that. “i want you to do what you wanna do, or have you bitten off more than you can chew? don’t tell me you’re that stupid, princess.”

for a man gagged in your bed, he sounded very confident and intimidating in every word. he wanted you to do it so badly, whatever the fuck you had in mind, 'cause it was turning him on to see you do this to him. “come on, you know you didn’t gagged me in your bed to let me leave.”

and, as expected, what he said had exactly the effect he wanted. in less than a minute, your legs were on either side of his hips, straddling him as he looked up at you with a smug little smirk, not caring about the darkness in your eyes. you looked hot like that, he didn't really care about the implications of fucking you without using his hands.

“you talk too much, cameron.”

“then, you should shut my mouth.”

the implication of his words had almost immediate consequences. you bent over him, hands on both sides of his head, pinning him even further into the mattress as you pressed your lips hard against his. there wasn't one percent of delicacy in that messy kiss, just hunger and desire and rafe noticed it, feeling his blood rush to his lower half.

he moaned softly against your lips as he returned the not-so-loving affection, letting your tongue invade his mouth as if he was completely at your mercy—and he, actually, was. not that rafe had ever agreed to be on the bottom very often, but if it ended with you riding him, then it was for a good cause.

when you had the urge to separate your lips from his, it was like being woken up from a trance, he didn't say anything and if his wrists weren't gagged, his hands would be saying something for him. he ran his tongue over his reddened lips, slightly swollen from the inner contact, as if he wanted to know if the remnants of your taste were still there.

“y’know,” rafe started talking after a few seconds, noticing how breathless you looked from just one kiss. it was kinda cute, he'd give you credit for that. “if i wasn’t gagged here, you’d already be face down in that pillow.” he said with such conviction that you had to roll your eyes, thrusting your hips down only to see his facade tremble at the small contact over your clothes.

“yeah, yeah, but you’re gagged and i’m on top.” you gave him a mocking smile, gently patting his cheek before grabbing his chin, making him look straight into your eyes. “and that’s a lose-lose, for you, not for me.”

“lose-lose? i don’t see it that way, sweetheart,” his blue eyes dropped downwards, indirectly giving you the message that it wasn't bad for him when you were the one straddling him in your bed on any given day. “i’m just wonderin’ when you’re actually gonna act beyond these boring little kisses and put that pussy to sit on somethin’.”

“you’re talking too much again, cameron.” you shook your head in disapproval, sighing deeply as you pretended to think about what you were going to do to him. “but, since you want me to do something and i want you to shut up...”

you let the words hang in the air as you got off his lap, standing in the corner taking off your shorts and panties quickly, but to rafe it looked more like you were doing it in slow motion. every second counted and he was already missing your weight against his lap.

kinda ironic... that he was so comfortable being gagged in the bed of a girl he must have seen less than five times in his life. but, rafe never thought straight and he wouldn't start doing that now. it was even pleasurable for him to know that you were obsessed with him to that point. you might have been in physical control, but you both knew better than that.

despite the tension, you were on top of him again. knees on the mattress, your hands holding onto the headboard, the best way to shut him up and he wasn't really complaining about it, in fact, this was exactly what he wanted from the moment he thought of the possibility. a devious smile formed on his lips, his tongue moistening them for a brief moment as you graced him with that sight. shit, he wanted to touch you so badly, but he'd have to do it only with his tongue for now.

his tongue slowly passed through your wet folds like a tease of power, you might be on top, but he had his share of power too and he'd make sure to remind you of that. “you taste so good, princess...” he smirked against your cunt, giving it a brief suck before running his tongue over it again, only to see your expression falter and a shiver run through your body. “like a fuckin’ lollipop, so sweet.”

you placed more of your weight on his face, closing your eyes gently as you rubbed your clit against the tip of his nose, feeling his tongue suck hungrily between your wet folds. “mmhm...” you allowed yourself to let out a moan, looking down as your hips rocked over his face, his blue eyes fixed on you, attentively wanting to see you break under the touch of his tongue. he didn't want to miss a single detail of it.

rafe's pants were tightening around his crotch, his thoughts were hazy and he could only think of one thing: you and the dirty little noises that escaped your throat. he wanted to hear each of those and he wanted to be the reason for them. no one else, just him and he hoped you had used your weird obsessive behavior to understand that he was possessive as hell.

but, you were going far, he could feel it, pressing yourself harder and harder against his face and suddenly, the sound of the rope coming loose. your eyes opened in confusion, still numb from the brief pleasure he gave you, only for you to notice his hands loose from the rope, his wrists not even red. “what...? how?” you whispered, looking between his wrists and his face between your legs.

then, he pushed you back, not too hard, just enough to make you fall back onto the mattress and get off of him. “y’know... you’re bad at tying ropes, really bad,” he grumbled, sitting down on the bed before using one of his hands to pull you closer, climbing on top of you with an even more sinister smirk than before. “but, that’s good, it means i can touch that pretty little body of yours now.”

rafe didn't want to wait for you to have any reaction to that, he already waited for too long pretending to really be gagged in your bed, he didn't give a damn if he should've waited a little longer, he got what he wanted.

he pinned you against him and the mattress, crashing his lips against yours as he kissed you violently, as if he was trying to mark you or, maybe, he just really wanted to mark you. his tongue didn't ask for entry, it just invaded your mouth, making you feel your own taste, exactly as he wanted.

“did you like to taste your own sweetness, baby?” he whispered against your lips, sucking your bottom lip before kissing you again. “guess i have to take care of you now, don’t i? you’ve been following me around like a good puppy... i think you deserve a reward.” he pulled away from your face a little, only for his hands to go towards your shirt, pulling it over your head.

on a normal day, he'd take more of his time with you, but not today. today he was a little too eager for this, today you wouldn't go unnoticed by him.

“so sweet...” his fingers caressed your belly before he moved his lips down your neck, making sure to press wet kisses against it before moving down a little further and lightly biting your collarbone. you heard the sound of one of his hands going down to his pants, undoing his belt without any difficulty, as if he had done it many times before, and he did.

pants and boxers on the floor, he was hovering over you with an expression of hunger and desire, one of his fingers running over your cunt, he wanted to feel with his fingers how wet and ready for him you were. he patted your thigh, a warning for you to open it wider for him. you looked so pretty like that that he even felt like sucking you again. but, no, this time he wanted to make you feel everything.

rafe bent over you again, lips against yours, a cheap deception only for him to thrust his fully hard cock inside you. you opened your legs wider in shock, but you didn't push him away, you just moaned painfully against the sudden impact and he liked it, he really liked the way you lost your composure when he had no mercy on your tight little pussy.

no niceties or "just the tip", you were a weirdo who stalked him and he'd give you exactly what you wanted when you drugged him and took him to your bed. the kind of fuck that would leave you sore for days, and when you forgot about the pain, then he'd fuck you again... and again... and again.

he lifted your body a little, holding your legs as he slammed relentlessly inside your tight cunt, his cock was having trouble getting all the way inside you, but he didn't really care, he'd make it fit. “what happened to all that attitude, pretty girl? where did that "lose-lose" go?” he went deeper, making you sink into the mattress as you tried to contain the loud moans that wanted to escape your mouth.

“no, no holdin’ back your little noises, i wanna hear ‘em all.” he roared, his hand letting go of one of your legs as he held your chin firmly. “and eyes on me. if you close them or hold back your moans, i’ll stop and you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

you couldn't say a single word, you just nodded, agreeing with what he was saying, even though you didn't know how long you could keep your eyes open. “good girl.” he released your chin, his hand trailing down your neck and collarbone until he reached your bra.

just fucking you could be enough, but it wasn't, not for a greedy man like him. he wanted more and your tits looked so inviting to his eyes, he wanted everything he could get of you. everyone knew, if he wanted it, he could get it. so, he didn't ask, he just pulled one of your tits out of the bra. his fingers pinching your swollen nipple and circling it as he stared at you, wondering if this would make you go further over the edge or not.

him being too big for you was already something, but rafe knew perfectly where to push your buttons and he'd make you tremble without needing much, he wanted to break you so you'd know better before you thought you could leave him in a position like that. your legs locked around his waist, just so he could go balls deep, feeling you squeezing him tighter and tighter as your tight walls clenched in pleasure.

“mmgmh, rafe, fuck...” you whimpered, biting your bottom lip hard as you looked down to see his rhythm. thrusts so rough that the bed began to creak and he had no intention of being discreet about how good and hard he was fucking that sweet pussy of yours. “rafe... i need to... i need to come...”

a mocking laugh came out of him as he slowly thrust inside you again, really much slower than before, making you feel every inch of him stretching you out. “yeah, princess? you wanna come that fast? this pretty little cunt can’t handle such a big cock, can it?” he continued with the slow thrusts, like a tease that he was really enjoying doing.

“but, it’s okay... i said i’d take care of you.” rafe whispered, leaning over you again, his tongue flicking over your nipple that he had been pinching moments before. “then, come for me, princess, come while i suck your tit.”

his thrusts gradually increased again, making you see stars as he sucked on your nipple hungrily, his eyes flicking up to see your expression of pleasure. your loud moans and whimpers were music to his ears, like fuel that only motivated him to go deeper.

and when you got to the edge, by god, you squeezed him so hard and moaned like you were in heaven; and he enjoyed every second of it, pressing himself against you as he felt your legs tremble for him. “you did so well for me...” he licked your nipple once more before moving kisses up to your neck. “but, we still have one thing before we finish... and you’re gonna be a good girl and do it.”

“what? what’s left?” you mumbled, tired and breathless, your legs still shaking as he grabbed your body and made you sit on the bed. not understanding what he meant when you noticed him standing up, right next to you.

“come here ’n open your mouth, i’ll show you.” it wasn't a request, it almost sounded like an order, if you didn't do it he’d make you do it anyway. “open wide.” he said again as you sat on the edge of the bed, right in front of him. one of his hands gripped the back of your head, while the other gripped his still hardened length, positioning it in front of your lips.

your eyes widened a little, but you looked up to meet rafe's gaze and he looked very confident about what he was doing. “no hands, i just need your little mouth, pretty girl.” he definitely wasn't expecting you to nod, he just shoved his cock into your mouth and waited for you to do what he wanted. “mmh, yeah, just like that...” he smirked, satisfied with your work, moving his hips back and forth, not caring if you could handle everything he put inside that sweet mouth.

he, in turn, didn't need much either, you had already given enough of a show for him to feel his balls full, he just needed a little more, your lips around his cock would solve the problem. “that got you so far, didn’t it? this stalker thing, you’re exactly where you wanna be, aren’t you? with my cock hitting your throat, so pretty.” he moaned, using his dirty words to motivate you to swallow him all the way down.

his moans started to become more frequent, he stopped moving his hips, using your head as if you were a doll, back and forth quickly, choking you, he was slowly reaching his limit and the sight really helped with that.

rafe knew he wouldn't last longer than that, he was exhausted, panting, letting out long gasps every time he sank the tip of his cock into your throat. he needed to come. so, he did it. “stay there... that’s it... stop.” he gasped once more, thrusting himself deep into the wet heat of your mouth, his length twitching as he began to spurt hot streams into the back of your throat. “fuck... fuck... mhmm.”

he didn't move his head, not until he was one hundred percent satisfied, not until you had swallowed every little drop of him.

and when it was over, you were a complete mess, falling back on your bed, dealing with the intense aftermath of what rafe gave you. he joined you at your side, as breathless as you were, not regretting a single microsecond of what had happened between you. “next time you wanna do this, remember to tie me tightly to the headboard, princess,” he suggested, lying on his back to face the ceiling like you. “just call me and i’ll bring the rope.”

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox, you'll be welcome. ꒰ ˶> ˕ <˶ ꒱ ♡

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lillmirey · 1 day ago

Text

Bewitched and Bound

summary: waking up in Westview with your ex(?) Lover.

pairing: Agatha Harknessx fem!witch!reader

conten warnings: Manipulation, Violence, Angst, Jealousy

Readers sensitive to these topics should proceed with caution or avoid the story entirely.

Word Count: 959

I. Waking Up

It starts like a whisper. A thread of something wrong, pulling at the edges of your mind.

You are standing in the kitchen, apron tied neatly at your waist, hands dusted with flour as you knead dough for tonight’s dinner. The smell of sugar and cinnamon fills the air. Outside, the sun is bright, the sky endless blue.

It is a perfect day.

And yet—

Something tugs at you, sharp and insistent.

A shiver runs down your spine.

“Come on, darling,” a voice purrs behind you.

Warm hands slide over your shoulders, slow and deliberate.

“Wake up.”

The world tilts. The colors are too bright. The air too still. A memory—no, a thousand memories—flood your mind all at once.

Salem.

The coven’s screams. The rush of magic crackling through the air. Agatha standing before you, eyes dark, smiling as power devoured your sisters whole.

Agatha.

Your chest tightens. Your body remembers before your mind fully catches up—her hands, her lips, the way she whispered your name in the dark. The way she left you behind.

You whirl around, heart pounding.

And there she is.

Smirking. As if centuries haven’t passed. As if she didn’t tear your world apart.

“You,” you breathe.

Agatha tilts her head. “Me,” she echoes, amused.

Your pulse thrums against your ribs. The walls of the kitchen seem wrong now—fabricated. The air hums with something unnatural.

“What did you do?” you whisper.

Her smirk widens. “Not me, love. Her.”

And just like that, the illusion shatters.

II. The Game Begins

Westview is a lie.

A carefully spun fantasy, stitched together with Wanda Maximoff’s grief.

And you? You are nothing more than a character in its script.

Your name is stitched into neighborhood potlucks, afternoon tea, warm smiles exchanged across white picket fences. Your life is one of routine—morning coffee, evening cocktails, gentle laughter over dinner with your loving wife.

Agatha—no, Agnes—fits into the role effortlessly. She laughs too loud at the neighbors’ jokes, offers winking gossip over fresh-baked muffins, presses kisses to your cheek like she was made for this world.

You hate how easily she plays the part.

And worse—you hate how easily you do too.

But you remember.

And so does she.

Nights are spent in hushed whispers, stolen moments behind locked doors, planning, plotting. If Wanda created this world, then she could undo it. The only question was—how?

“You and I, sweetheart,” Agatha murmurs one night, her breath warm against your neck, “we’re different. Real. And I’m so close to figuring her out.”

Her fingers graze yours, slow and deliberate.

“Just need a little more time.”

Time.

The one thing you don’t have.

III . Old Habits

It starts as a game.

You slip into your scripted role, the perfect neighbor, the doting wife. You smile when you’re meant to, laugh at the right moments, brush a hand over Agatha’s when no one is looking.

But Agatha—Agatha watches you.

She watches when you flirt too easily, when you smile too sweetly at the other neighbors.

When you pretend like none of this matters.

“Careful, darling,” she purrs one night, her fingers gripping your wrist just a little too tightly. “Wouldn’t want to make me jealous.”

You arch a brow. “Jealous?”

Agatha leans in, close enough that her breath fans across your lips. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.”

But her eyes say something else.

And when she kisses you later that night, it’s all teeth and fire.

IV. The Fight

Wanda finds you first.

She knows, now, that you and Agatha aren’t just ordinary puppets in her world. She knows you are witches. Threats.

So she comes for you.

Scarlet magic surges through the walls, cracking the illusion of Westview around you. Agatha moves first, launching herself between you and Wanda, violet power crackling at her fingertips.

“Darling, get behind me,” Agatha orders.

But you don’t listen.

You throw your own magic forward, twin streams of violet and blue clashing against Wanda’s red. The ground shakes. The sky splits.

“You don’t belong here,” Wanda snarls.

You laugh bitterly. “Neither do you.”

Agatha’s magic surges, wrapping around Wanda like a serpent, tightening—suffocating.

For a second, you think you’ve won.

But then—

Red explodes, tendrils wrapping around both you and Agatha. The pain is sharp, searing, pulling—rewriting.

Agatha reaches for you, her fingers brushing yours as the world tilts.

Then—

Darkness.

V. A Perfect Life

The morning sunlight spills through the lace curtains, casting soft golden patterns across the bedroom walls. The air is warm, carrying the scent of lavender and fresh coffee. A familiar weight rests beside you, fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare shoulder.

“Morning, darling,” comes a sleepy murmur.

You sigh, shifting closer into her warmth. “Morning, Agnes.”

She hums in response, pressing a kiss to your temple.

It’s the same as every morning. Waking up wrapped in soft sheets, her scent lingering in the air. The quiet hum of the house waking with you.

Everything is perfect.

Because this is your life.

It has always been your life.

Lazy mornings in bed. Afternoons spent tending to the garden, humming along to an old record on the radio. Evenings curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in one hand, her fingers laced with yours.

There is no before.

There is no after.

Only this.

Only her.

She sighs, stretching beside you, a lazy smile curving at her lips. “Come on, sweetheart,” she murmurs, voice warm and familiar, “let’s start the day.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before slipping out of bed.

And just like that, another perfect day begins.

Because it has always been this way.

And it always will be.

Forever.

#wlw #wlw post #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #fanfiction #wandavision #wanda maximoff #kathryn hahn #marvel

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russo-woso · 1 day ago

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Most of all, I love… || Alessia Russo x pregnant!reader

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Warning Pregnancy

Summary the memories made from the chaos of your baby shower

-> Part of A new adventure universe

It was going to be an emotional day, you knew that - it’s the main reason why you wore your waterproof mascara.

Today, Lotte and Emily were throwing you and Alessia a baby shower.

It was going to be small and intimate with close family and friends only.

A few Arsenal and England girls were going to be there along with both sets of parents and a few other relatives.

You’d both chosen Lotte and Emily to organise it. Lotte because you’d known her since you were 13/14 and Emily because you’d spent most of your days at college with her.

You were so happy when they agreed to take on the role of organising it but you were shocked when you realised how serious they were taking it.

They were planning it in such detail that they couldn’t been professional party planners.

You and Alessia let them be though, having enough trust in them to do it just how you’d want it.

You were expecting it to be a long day but what you weren’t expecting was to be woken up by a loud knock on the door.

“What the…” alessia had mumbled as she lifted herself out of bed, looking outside the window to be met with Emily and Lotte, bags filled to the brim with decorations in their hands. With a frustrated sigh, Alessia opened the window, getting ready to speak her mind but before she could shout at the pair, you cut her off.

“-Lessi, be nice to them, they’re doing us a favour remember.” You told her, Alessia rolling her eyes but agreeing nonetheless.

“Fine. I’ll go let them in. I’m coming back to bed though. I want cuddles with my two girls.”

Although Alessia was still angry at the pair of defenders, she pushed her anger to the side when she walked down the stairs.

Emily and Lotte insisted that the decorations were a surprise.

So, the whole of the morning, you and Alessia were imprisoned upstairs, being told that the whole baby shower would be ruined if either one of you took a look at the decor.

But it was worth it when you took the final step to downstairs.

There was an arch of balloons by the back door, loose balloons littering the floor, a banner with wooden letters spelling baby Russo on the wall.

Your heart swelled as you looked around.

“It’s perfect.” You whispered to no one in particular, your eyes welling with tears.

There’s one strike for hormones today already.

“Do you like it?” Lotte asked, your reaction clearly being unreadable.

“I love it. Thank you so much, you two.” You said, wiping your tears before hugging the two defenders.

Alessia followed after, hugging and thanking them before returning back to your side.

Her hand made its way around your waist, her fingertips brushing your bump gently.

“She’s kicking away. She’s clearly happy with it too.” You said with a big smile, moving Alessia’s hand to where your daughter was kicking.

“Strong kicking. You’re gonna be a striker like your mummy.” Alessia whispered, but as soon as the word striker was mentioned the kicking stopped.

“No, she’s gonna be a defender like her auntie Lotte and auntie Emily.” Lotte cooed, also resting her hand on your bump.

“She’s gonna love me more so she’ll be a striker.” Alessia fired back

“Who said she’ll love you more? She’s going to love her auntie Lotte more.”

“Lotte! She’s my daughter, she’s clearly going to love me more.” Alessia told Lotte, you being stuck in the middle of the two of them.

“No that’s—” Lotte went to respond but was cut off to a knock on the door.

Emily left to go and open the door and Lotte wondered off to the kitchen for something, leave just you and Alessia.

“Cheer up. Get that frown off your face. Of course bubba’s going to love you more.” You said, pressing a kiss to Alessia’s cheek which soon wiped the frown off her face.

Beth was the first one to come into the lounge, enveloping you and Alessia in a hug before pushing a massive gift bag your way.

Then came Steph, doing the exact same thing but instead of a gift bag, it was a hamper.

Leah walked in, greeting bubba before you which you took massive offence to but your thoughts quickly changed when Leah handed you a gigantic tub of peanut butter - which just so happened to be your latest craving.

“Can’t have mama go without anything.” Leah explained, hugging you again before bending down to be level with your bump. “Don’t worry, bubba, I’ve got something for you too.”

“Thank you, le.” You said, bringing her in for a third hug before letting her hug Alessia.

A few more Arsenal girls came before the Manchester girls arrived.

Tooney’s voice filled the room followed by Millie T’s boisterous laugh.

“Something funny?” You joked, clearly one of the two making a joke before entering the house.

“There she is, my bestie.” Ella shouted.

Alessia stood behind you, her arms out waiting for Ella to hug her but before Ella could even get to Alessia, she was crouched in front of you, her hand on your bump.

Millie crouched down next to her, greeting you both quickly before wondering off into the living room.

“My daughter’s taken my best friends too?” Alessia asked, her jaw wide open not believing what was happening.

“Everyone just loves her, it’s cute.” You told her, rubbing her back gently.

“I know.” Alessia mumbled, a pout on her lips.

“Wipe that pout off.” You joked, your thumb wiping her upper lip, attempting to make her smile.

“A kiss would wipe it off.” Alessia suggested with a smirk.

“One kiss. That’s it, we’ve got to go and get the party started.” You told her, alessia nodding excitedly like she’d never kissed you before.

You placed your lips on hers and as you went to pull away, Alessia pulled you back in, her hands having a firm grip on your hips.

You pushed down a moan that threatened to escape past your lips once Alessia’s tongue explored your mouth.

“Less… our friends.” You mumbled, somehow managing to pull away.

“They’ll be fine for a minute.” Alessia shrugged, reconnecting your lips in yet another hungry kiss. “You just look so perfect with your bump.”

You both got carried away, completely forgetting your surrounding when you heard someone clear their throat.

“Interrupting something are we?” Luca teased, winking as you and Alessia pulled away, your faces burning bright red.

“Just…” Alessia began, trying to come up with an excuse but failing miserably.

“Just making out whilst all your friends and family are waiting?” Luca suggested, clearly trying to tease the two of you.

“Yes.” Alessia reluctantly agreed, nodding her head.

“You can do that later. Now come on, we’re waiting to start the games.”

“Games?” You questioned, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Did Lotte and Em not tell you? They’ve planned out some games.” Luca explained, you and Alessia shaking your heads at the new found news. “Classic baby shower games, quite boring if you ask me. I’m only here for the food.”

“Of course you are.” Alessia tutted, shaking her head.

“I’m gonna go, but I trust you two not to continue what you were doing.”

“No promises.”

Luca soon left which left you and Alessia by yourselves.

“You, do not let your competitive side come out, okay? It’s just some fun.” You warned her, knowing how competitive and cocky she got.

“Fine.”

The games went smoothly, Alessia actually listening and not taking them competitively.

Kyra ended up winning the first game, followed by Katie winning the second.

It was then time to open gifts.

The table which was designated for presents was filled to the brim, gift upon gift stacked on top of each other.

You couldn’t help but well up at the care and love that surrounded you.

Another strike for hormones.

One by one, you and Alessia were handed present after present.

Steph had bought the softest blanket ever, Leah bought a stuffed gunnersaurus and made you promise to make it bubba’s favourite teddy.

After half an hour, there were two presents left.

You opened one and inside was a gorgeous hamper full of everything you could possibly need - nappies, wipes, a small stuffed giraffe, bibs, a small hat, a newborn outfit with animals on, just everything.

“I didn’t know whether you’d like the outfit or not so I kept the receipt just in case.” Lia spoke up, revealing who the hamper was from.

“Lia… it’s gorgeous - the whole thing. Thank you so much.” You told her, hugging her tightly.

“This is amazing, Lia, thank you.” Alessia said, also hugging her.

You both sat back down, Alessia’s hand automatically resting on your bump.

She grabbed the final present which had been wrapped neatly with a bow on top.

“This is joint present from foxy and me.” Lotte told you and Alessia, a smile on her face.

Alessia matched her smile out of excitement, quickly unwrapping it.

As soon as she laid eyes on the gift itself, her smile dropped.

“What the fuck is this?” Alessia exclaimed, lifting the baby grow so you could see it.

It was a cream coloured baby grow with the words Most of all… I love my aunties.

“You are not starting this again, you two.” You told Lotte and Alessia, pointing at the two of them.

“It’s a joke. That’s not the actual present. Foxy!”

On queue, Emily walked into the room with a wrapped box.

You and Alessia looked at each other, both of you confused as to what it could be.

You opened it at the same time, revealing the car seat the two of you desperately wanted.

“Oh my god…” you whispered, not knowing what to do. “That explains why you asked if we’d spotted a car seat yet.”

“Please say it’s the right one. We walked in and there were so many but I’m sure you said this one.” Emily explained as you nodded.

“It’s the one. Thank you em, thank you Lotte.” Alessia said, hugging them.

You clung onto the both of them as you thanked them, feeling immensely grateful.

“You two are the best aunties.” You told them

“We know.” Emily smirked, high fiving Lotte.

The rest of the afternoon sped by and before you knew it, everyone had left.

You and Alessia stood in the door of your living room, eyeing the massive pile of gifts.

“Do we even have space to put everything?” You asked

“I don’t think so.”

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #alessia russo #alessia russo fluff #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader

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lelengerine · 2 days ago

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pairing. na jaemin x reader

synopsis. you and jaemin had always believed in a future together, but as the years pass, and growing up starts to get in the way, you begin to wonder if some promises were never meant to last forever.

tags. childhood best friends to strangers, angst haha 😞, honestly jaem is a little toxic… just a little, the time skips are a bit wide but oh well, no specific prns are used

wc. 4.0k words

notes. hii its been a while TT i’ve been drowning from school work yet again but i managed to whip this up somehow (the longest thing ive ever written here so far) !! thank u my lovely pookies @teddyjun + @pwblant for proofreading this 😙🩷 likes, reblogs, and feedback are very much welcome!

꒰ m.list ꒱

you first met jaemin when you were ten years old.

the world was still big then, impossibly so, and yet, in his smile, you found a place to call your own. he was messy—his knees perpetually scraped, his grin too wide, as if he were holding the weight of all the impossibilities in life and yet, still finds time to laugh. his hand would reach for yours, tug you into the sunlight, and you both found yourselves running, the soft grass beneath your feet, breathless laughter spilling out between your gasps. it’s the simplest of moments, but you don’t know yet that this will be a forever built on a thousand such moments, moments too beautiful to question but too fleeting to understand.

it starts that way, with the purity of a child’s promise. the world is too big, too wide, but with jaemin by your side, it feels like you could touch the stars on your tippy toes if you tried hard enough. you make promise rings together one afternoon, and his face brims with excitement, eyes alight with the kind of certainty only a child could hold. "we’re meant to be together," he says, "no matter what happens."

“you sound so sure of it.”

“yeah, cause i’m not leaving you ever!”

you laugh at his response, a small sound that’s heavy with the weight of unspoken belief. your hands work quickly, clumsily, folding notebook paper into shapes that barely resemble rings, but when you slip them on each other’s fingers, neither of you question it. there is no doubt. this moment, like so many before it, feels sacred. a bond sealed not in reality, but in the purest of intentions. it’s a promise for the future—your future—and you both believe it, with all of your hearts.

"one day, i’ll start my own company," he utters out while fiddling on the ring you made him, voice filled with such quiet determination. "and we’ll be able to live together."

you smile, a perfect answer ready for him. "and i’ll be an artist," your voice carries the excitement you have, "i’ll have my own gallery and, oh! my paintings can decorate our home!"

he squeezes your hand, fingers tightening like he’s anchoring both of you to this moment, to the future you’ve already built together in your dreams. "i’ll be your first investor," he says, a laugh of his spilling out, one full of hope.

“do you even know what that means?” your eyebrow quirks up at him.

“isn’t that what they call it?” he looks at you, head tilted with slight confusion. “i heard my mom say something like how she was going to invest in someone the other day so i’ll invest in you.”

"fine.” you mutter with a sense of nonchalance, though you were more than happy with his answer. “i’ll have a painting ready for you then.”

“you’ll finish it in time?”

“please, who do you take me for?” you swat his shoulder, but there isn’t an ounce of malicious intent as you do so.

the sun is setting, and you are both wrapped in the warmth of those moments, of those words, of that belief. it’s easy then, to believe in forever. you believe in him, in the future he paints with such certainty.

you believe in the promises that hang between you, so heavy, so real.

ʚɞ

you used to believe that some things were unshakable. that no matter how much time passed, no matter how much life rearranged itself, certain people—certain feelings—would always remain within reach, but lately, with jaemin, you’re beginning to wonder if that’s really true.

it’s not obvious at first. just little things, small enough to ignore.

the way your messages sit on delivered longer than they used to. the way his responses come slower, more detached, like you’re a conversation he’s having in the margins of his life rather than in the center of it.

the way he no longer texts first.

you tell yourself you’re overthinking it. after all, people get busy. life gets in the way. yet try as hard as you might, the thought lingers, gnawing at the quiet spaces in your mind.

when was the last time he reached out first?

it shouldn’t feel like a risk to send a message. it never used to. but now, as you hover over his name in your contacts, your fingers hesitate just slightly before typing.

you up?

the text sends. you exhale.

and then you wait.

a minute passes. then two.

when the typing bubbles finally appear, a flicker of hope stirs in your chest, a quiet relief that maybe you were just imagining things.

hey, sorry, got caught up with another project. how’s everything with you?

it’s normal, it’s fine. but as you stare at the message, something about it feels... off.

perhaps it’s the way it’s phrased, so polite, so surface-level, when jaemin has never been the kind of person to keep things so distant with you. or maybe it's the way his words don’t quite carry the warmth they used to, like they’ve been filtered through a screen that dulls them just enough to make you feel the difference.

you shake the thought away and type back quickly.

i’m good, just the usual!

his next message comes just as fast.

cool. i gotta go—let’s catch up later?

three words. no specifics. no real promise.

you hesitate before responding. it’s not like he’s brushing you off. he’s just busy.

yeah, sure.

and yet, even after you set your phone down, the feeling lingers—the quiet weight of something slipping, so slowly that you can’t quite tell if you’re imagining it or if it’s really happening.

a few days later, you do manage to meet jaemin at your neighborhood’s café. a part of you hopes—foolishly, maybe—that seeing him in person will make everything feel normal again, that whatever weird distance has been settling between you will dissolve the moment you’re face-to-face, but when he finally walks in, he barely looks up from his phone. no teasing grin, no easy warmth. just a quick glance in your direction before he slides into the seat across from you.

“sorry, i’m late,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “got caught up with the project i told you about a few days ago.”

he doesn’t say much else. it’s such a small thing, but it stings in a way you don’t fully understand.

you swallow down the discomfort and force a light tone. “you’ve been really busy lately,” you say, trying to tease, trying to bridge whatever this gap is. “what’s so important that you can’t even keep our plans?”

jaemin exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s just… a lot, you know? school, deadlines, all of it. i didn’t mean to—” he stops, shaking his head slightly. “i’m just trying to keep up.”

the words settle between you, leaving a space that neither of you knows how to fill.

there was a time when jaemin always had time for you, when he would’ve made jokes that’d counter yours, nudge you playfully with that bright smile of his, and reassure you without even trying.

now, the only thing written on his face is fatigue.

and maybe that’s the part that’s hardest to admit—that you can’t even be mad at him for this. that you know him well enough to understand that whatever is pulling him away isn’t intentional, but knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less.

you nod, forcing a small smile. “yeah, i get it. we’ve all got a lot going on.” and maybe that’s where you leave it and start accepting that things don’t always hold the way you thought they would.

the boy glances at his phone again before looking back up. “anyway, i should go. got a meeting in a bit.”

you subconsciously nod once more, knowing it was the only thing you could do—pushing back your chair with slight force. “right.”

neither of you linger.

once, he would’ve waited. once, you would’ve stalled, finding excuses to stretch the moment just a little longer, but tonight, you walk in separate directions and for the first time, you don’t turn back.

ʚɞ

the last time you saw him, it was the winter of your last year of college. the sky hangs low, a dull gray that presses against the horizon, as if the world itself is holding its breath. the weight of unspoken things fills the space between you, making everything feel heavier than it should. you stand at the old playground, the one that once belonged to the two of you. snow falls in delicate flurries, each flake catching in his hair, softening the sharpness of his silhouette. he looks like the jaemin you once knew—his eyes still holding that spark, his posture still easy—but there’s something about him now, something subtle but undeniable, that tells you everything has indeed shifted.

his smile is still there, but it’s not the one you’re used to seeing anymore. it’s stretched thin, distant, pulled tight in a way that feels more like a memory than the real thing.

and it’s him who speaks first. his voice cuts through the silence, sharper than it should be. “i’m moving soon,” he says, and there’s a finality to his words that makes everything around you stop.

your heart drops into your stomach. the cold air feels like it’s suffocating you. “oh,” you manage to say, the word tasting like something you’ve swallowed too many times before.

he shoves his hands deep into his coat pockets, his stance rigid. his voice doesn’t soften. “the company’s expanding. i need to move closer to the headquarters.”

the words hang in the air, cold and empty, and you feel them sink between you like a stone dropped into still water. the weight of them cuts deeper than anything you’ve experienced in all the years leading up to this moment. it’s as if the ground beneath your feet is starting to crack, a fracture you didn’t even realize was there until now.

you want to be happy for him. you are happy for him, somewhere deep inside. this is the life he’s worked for, the he promised all those years ago, but there's a selfishness in the ache that rises in your chest, something broken and raw that you can’t quite name. it’s not just the news—it’s the quiet realization that, somehow, everything you once held close was slipping away.

“right,” you murmur, the word too small, too soft to bridge the gap inbetween. you hum, as if the soothing sound of it could convince both of you that this is okay. “that’s great.”

jaemin exhales, his breath a cloud in the sharp air. it lingers for a moment before dissipating into the gray sky. “what about you? still planning that residency in paris?”

you glance down at your hands, fingers trembling, cold from the winter chill. “yeah. got accepted,” you answer him, the words barely rising above a whisper.

his gaze flickers, something unreadable flashing in his eyes for the briefest of moments. “that’s amazing,” he says, but the tone is off, as though the words don’t quite reach you. “you’re really doing it.”

“yeah,” you reply softly, your voice small and quiet in the vast emptiness between you. “we both are, aren’t we?”

another silence stretches between you, thicker now, heavier than the snow that continues to fall. and in that silence, you both know. you know that whatever had been left of the promises made in the warmth of summer, whatever bond you once shared, was gone and that there’s nothing left to hold on to.

“we’ll still keep in touch,” he says, but even to his ears, the words sound like an afterthought, a feeble attempt at something neither of you believes anymore.

“i’ll still miss you,” you murmur, letting your guard slip—just a little. if this really was the last time you’d see him, then maybe it was worth the risk, even if you knew it wouldn’t change a thing.

jaemin glances at you one last time, his eyes glimmering with something you can’t name. maybe it’s nostalgia, maybe it’s regret, or maybe it’s just the weight of something unfinished, something left unsaid. “i’ll miss you too,” he whispers, and for a moment, you’re reminded of the boy who once promised you forever.

you let the silence settle around you both, its weight pressing down like the cold that’s beginning to creep into your bones. even though he’s stood in place, you feel the distance between you both widen tenfold, or perhaps it's always been that way and you simply refused to acknowledge it.

ʚɞ

the months pass in a blur, one indistinguishable from the other. time moves on, relentless, indifferent to the weight it leaves behind. in the world outside, jaemin’s success blooms like a flower in full bloom—his name now a staple in every conversation, his face brightening billboards, magazines, and interviews. every time you open social media, there he is, living the life you both once envisioned together.

and you?

you paint. you finish exhibitions, your name is recognized, but the colors you use now feel muted, the canvases emptier than they used to be. the passion you once felt when you picked up your brush has faded, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

you remember the feeling—the exhilaration of creating, the joy of shaping something out of nothing. the way you used to stand in your workshop for hours, completely immersed in your work, with jaemin's words echoing in your head: "you’re going to make something amazing, i just know it." his belief in you, his unwavering confidence, was a light that made everything feel possible.

but now? the spark is gone. the excitement of making art has dimmed. it’s hard to even pinpoint when it started slipping away. maybe it was when he left—when he moved forward with his life, with his dreams, and you stayed behind, unable to catch up. maybe it was the quiet realization that you could never catch up, no matter how hard you tried.

and then, one day, as you scroll absentmindedly through your phone, a notification flashes on the screen. it’s a new interview with jaemin. his name, his face, as familiar as the air you breathe, yet foreign in a way you can’t explain. you pause, your finger hovering over the screen, an ache spreading through your chest before you even hear his voice.

you tap the notification.

the video begins, his voice smooth and controlled, but there’s something about it that strikes you—a coldness to his words, a calculated quality, as though every syllable is measured, rehearsed. as if he’s become someone else entirely.

“there was someone—someone who was my strength when everything was falling apart…” his words hang in the air like a ghost, the weight of them pressing down on your chest. it’s like hearing him speak from a distance, as if his voice no longer belongs to you, but to someone else, to the man he’s become.

you stop breathing. your hand hovers over the screen, your fingers trembling as you listen, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to hear more. his voice continues, talking about his company, his rise, his accomplishments—the things he promised, the things he’s achieved, the things you should be proud of him for.

but instead, all you feel is the sharp sting of distance. the space between you both has only grown, so vast that it feels like an ocean you could never cross. and then you remember—this is the man he’s become now. the man who’s built a life without you, whose name is no longer connected to yours. you should be happy for him. you should be thrilled to see him achieve his dreams.

but all you feel is this deep, aching void. the weight of all the things that never got said, all the things you once thought were promised between the two of you, now lost to time. you can almost hear the echoes of his laughter, see the way his eyes used to brighten when he talked about the future. that future, the one where you and jaemin would take on the world together, is gone.

you shouldn’t still be holding onto it, but you are. you can’t help it.

when the interview ends, the screen fades to black, leaving you in the silence of your own thoughts. you remain motionless, your phone still in your hand, but it feels like it weighs a ton. the words he spoke, the things he said about strength, about someone who was there for him when everything fell apart—it all cuts through you like glass. you realize then, in the quiet aftermath, that you never got to be the one who helped him pick up the pieces. you were never the one he turned to when the world got too heavy.

and the worst part? you knew. you knew that somewhere along the way, he had started moving without you.

the promise you made to him comes rushing back, unbidden—the painting. the one you swore you’d finish, the one you said would be the gift that captured all the things you couldn’t put into words. the one you started in a burst of inspiration, with the idea that it would be a way of showing him just how much he meant to you, how much you believed in him.

but now? that painting sits unfinished, collecting dust in the corner of your workshop. it’s become a relic of another time, a broken promise that you don’t know how to keep. and you realize, with a quiet ache in your chest, that you haven’t picked up that brush in months—not for him, not for anyone.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and with it comes the crushing weight of everything that’s changed. time has moved on, and so has jaemin. he’s not the person you once knew, and maybe you’re not either. you’re both successful now, but success has a way of making you feel smaller than you ever expected. it fills the spaces where dreams once lived, and it pushes you further apart.

you look at the unfinished painting again, then turn away, leaving it there—just like everything else. there are other things to chase, other goals to reach. but none of them will ever feel like what you once dreamed with him.

and that’s the hardest part, isn’t it? that no matter how far you’ve come, some things—some people—were just never meant to be part of the journey anymore.

ʚɞ

years later, you find yourself walking through the streets of your hometown, your footsteps tracing familiar paths, the cracks in the pavement as unchanged as the memories that flood your mind. you hadn't planned to come back, but here you are. the air is colder than you remembered, but the sharpness of it doesn’t seem to matter. you pass by the old playground, its rusted swings creaking in the breeze, the slides faded and worn. it looks smaller now, as if the world around it has grown while the playground itself has been stuck in time. it’s a place you thought you would leave behind, but it’s here, pulling you in, drawing you back to moments that felt like they happened in another lifetime.

you stop in front of the old oak tree where you and jaemin once carved your initials. the bark has thickened, the edges of your names smoothed over by time. you touch it softly, your fingers brushing the faded markings, and for a split second, it reminds you of the memories that you once cherished.

and then, you see him.

jaemin stands at the far end of the playground, leaning against the fence with the same casual ease that used to make your heart flutter. it’s like he’s always been here, like he never left. his hair is longer now, tousled in a way that makes him look even more like the boy you used to know. and then, when he sees you, his face softens, and that familiar warmth washes over him—his smile, the one that used to make everything feel right in the world, is there again, lighting up his features.

for a brief, fleeting moment, it’s as if time has folded back on itself, and the years that separated you two dissolve into nothing.

“hey,” jaemin says, his voice tentative, the uncertainty hanging in the air like a fragile thread between you both. it’s the first time you’ve seen him in what feels like forever, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your chest tighten—a mix of longing and regret, as though he’s unsure whether to close the distance between you or leave it untouched.

“hey,” you reply, mimicking his words, but your voice catches somewhere in the space between the past and the present. it’s hard to place exactly what has changed, but the distance between you feels palpable now, like something invisible has grown taller and thicker between you two, despite how much you wish it hadn’t.

you stand there, side by side, the silence settling in like an old, familiar weight. neither of you knows what to say. there are so many things you both left unsaid, words that were swallowed in the years that passed, left to wither in the spaces between your conversations. but now, in this quiet moment, it all feels too big to address—too overwhelming to pull to the surface.

“i—uh, you look good,” jaemin says after a long pause, his voice still unsure, but there’s a tenderness in the way he speaks. it’s like he’s searching for something—validation, perhaps, or maybe just a sign that you’re still the person he remembers.

you look at him for a moment, taking in the boy who used to be everything to you. he’s still beautiful in a way that pulls at your heartstrings, but everything has changed, and you know it. you feel it in the way your gaze lingers on him a little longer than it should, as if your mind is still trying to piece together who he is now, who you both have become.

“so do you,” you finally reply, but your words feel hollow, even though you mean them. you know he looks good. you know he’s still jaemin, still the boy you used to hold so close. but the things that used to make you feel like you belonged together, the unspoken bond you shared, they’re gone. you feel it in the pit of your stomach—the ache of time pulling you both in opposite directions, the weight of what once was slipping through your fingers.

the quiet stretches again, thick and heavy, and you both seem to be standing on the edge of something too fragile to touch. there’s so much you want to say, so many things left unresolved. but you realize, in that moment, that there’s no going back.

no amount of time, no amount of silence, will ever give you the answers you’re looking for. the past—your shared moments, your dreams, the friendship that once felt like home—is something that has already faded, even if it still lingers in the corners of your heart.

the chill in the air grows sharper, but it doesn’t matter. you want to step forward, to bridge the gap between you both, but you know better than to reopen a wound that had already been stitched up.

jaemin shifts slightly, his hands slipping into his pockets, his eyes flickering toward the ground as if he’s lost in his own thoughts. you watch him for a moment, wondering if he feels the same ache in his chest, the same pull between wanting to move forward and holding on to what was.

“i should go,” you say finally, breaking the silence. the words are out before you even realize you’ve said them, but they feel necessary, like the only way to close this chapter.

jaemin nods, his smile faltering for just a second. “yeah, me too.”

and just like that, you turn away, the ache in your chest a quiet reminder that no matter how much you want to hold on to what was, some things are meant to fade, even if it hurts to let them go.

you walk away, and the footsteps behind you feel like the final acknowledgment of the future you both said goodbye to.

#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #jaemin #jaemin fluff #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct x reader #nct dream x reader

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maplegyu · 7 hours ago

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THE WAY I CLICKED THIS SO FAST BECAUSE OF THE TITLE!!!!!??!?!

I RECOGNIZE THAT QUOTE ANYWHERE 😭 (its even the header of one of my sideblogs!!)

BUT I DIDNT WANT TO ASSUME SO WHEN I GOT TO THIS PART!!!!!! I ACTU SQUEALED

I KNEW WHAT WAS COMING. I KNEW WONU WOULD CONFESS IN THE BEST MOST CREATIVE MOST ROMANTIC WAY POSSIBLE BUT I WAS STILL WAS NOT PREPARED WHEN I FINALLY READ THE FIC THROUGH!!!!!!! One of the best shortforms i've ever had the pleasure of consuming!!!!!

You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting.

Of course the visions in my head for this was *the* Darcy hand clench scene

Years ago, there had been a time when you entertained the thought of dating Jeon Wonwoo. In night-outs where he’d offer to get you home, a hand on your back to keep you from stumbling as you’d fumble for keys that always ended up at the bottom of your bag. He had even taken to keeping a pair of slippers in his car, in your size, for you to change into when your feet were hurting. Wonwoo never told you—he just knew your foot size, just cared in the understated, quiet way he always did. When you found out, you remember thinking that this would be the kind of man you wouldn’t mind offering your heart to. Thought that obviously he’d only do something like that for someone he was in love with.

PLEASE THE WAY THE WRITING TRANSLATED INTO A VISUAL MONTAGE IN MY HEAD???!?! HOW COULD I NOT SWOON!!!! HOW COULD I NOT ROOT FOR THEM!!!??! MY GODDDDD the seed of wonu being an austen-coded man has forever altered my brain chemistry. I truly love any and everything remotely austen-adjacent!!!!

Today, that bird you had deprived of the sun beats its wings against your ribcage, insistent once more. Your body is simultaneously numb and buzzing with energy, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to freeze up or run a few hundred laps.

Just stellar writing and imagery all around. One of the first things i thought was that this is such a fantastic example of figurative language! 💖

This whole scene... god ITS LITERALLY MY VERSION OF READER'S: me!!! but also me when!!!!!

“In case it isn’t obvious, Jeon Wonwoo, I’ve been in love with you too.” You whisper. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. Where before, he was afraid to look at you, now, it seems it’s all he can do. The fondness in his gaze is enough to bring anyone to their knees.

THE CONFESSION WAS SO GOOD AND CONFIDENT. THE FOREHEAD RESTING IS SO REGENCY-CODED I KNOW ITS MODERN DAY BUT THE CALLBACKS TO THINGS PLAYING OUT A LITTLE OLD FASHIONED PERIOD JUST FEELS SO ROMANTIC TO ME!!!!!!!!!!

“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,”

I LOVED THIS LINE SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!

idk what it is... it made it feel like the stakes were extra high but wonu was just that sure/confident!

“You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”

I loveddd this too!!! It was so cute and suchhh a mood! Hahaha

Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.

PERFECT FREAKIN ENDING. everything was just lovely from start to finish! this is perhaps my fave wonu fic ive read to date!!! 💖💖💖

Thank you for writing and sharing this 🥰

if i loved you less

summary. wonwoo's biggest gamble starts a week before valentine's day. pairing. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader genre/tags. non-idol!au, friends to lovers, bookworm!reader, spoilers for a 210-year old novel, wonwoo wins most creative confession, suggestive at the end wc. 2.9k suggested listening. pretty u, seventeen // dreams, the cranberries // andante andante, abba // i will, the beatles // library card, janani k. jha // aphrodite, the ridleys

notes. late to a hearts day posting, but pls accept this humble offering in between thesis cramming! i first pitched this to kae waaay back, but unfortunately it is not royal/period au (sorry ueueue). i read aspen's accidental one night stand ww and dug around my wip's for this in a fit of madness LMAOOO as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Wonwoo hands you a package wrapped in brown paper, tied neatly with twine. Your eyes light up as you accept it with a soft thank you.

“Aren’t you a week early?”

“I know,” he replies simply. “I wanted to ask you to finish reading this by Friday.” Your brow furrows.

“Is it something I can finish by then?” Wonwoo nods. You feel the weight the parcel in your hands, considering his strange request.

“What brought this on?” You ask.

The shift is subtle, but you notice it nonetheless—a flicker of something passing across his eyes, and his shoulders tensing up before he pulls them down again. Wonwoo looks away, as though steeling himself for something.

“It’s my reading recommendation.”

“Yours?” You straighten. Wonwoo’s never gifted a book to you before based on his own taste. He always based it off your reading list, after being hopelessly lost navigating a bookstore and asking the clerk for help, only to give you a book wildly different from your preferences.

You hold the book close to your chest. “Can I open it now?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you pout, then frown as a thought comes to you. “Wait. I remember telling you I’m on a ban right now.”

Normally, Wonwoo was scrupulous about following your rules, one of which being that he can’t gift you a book if your current priority was reading through the ones you already had.

He seems to weigh his words carefully before replying. “I just thought this one was too important to pass up.”

You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting. Trying to make your voice as soothing yet nonchalant as possible, you pull your lips up to a grin, thumbing the edge of the twine ribbon. “I suppose I can make an exception for my best friend.”

It seems to have the opposite effect.

There it is again—the subtle shift in his demeanor, the miniscule purse of his lip before Wonwoo speaks. “Do you have dinner plans, or are we doing movie night again?”

“Movie night sounds good. Any requests for food?”

Normally, Wonwoo would ask you to prepare ramyeon, especially after you had figured out Mingyu’s recipe, while he brought dessert. But his reply, like everything else in this conversation, is unexpected. “I’ll handle it.” He checks his watch before leveling you with an apologetic look. “I have to run. There’s a bunch of shit to do at work between, but I’ll see you on Friday?”

If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You’d never push him to say anything he wasn’t ready to share. You repeat this to yourself, even as you nod, maintaining your façade of soothing nonchalance.

“Yeah, see you.”

For the past couple of years, Wonwoo’s gift of choice has always been a book. After your protests at the price of new titles and your steadfast allegiance to your library card, among other reasons, the rules had been laid out as follows:

Copies should, as much as possible, not be brand new. They could be from thrift stores, secondhand shops, yard sales, or those Facebook groups where owners sold their old titles. Only new releases would be the exception, and even then, indie bookstores should be the first place to look.

Refer to the Notion page of your current to-be-read list for possible titles.

If you were on a book buying ban, so is he; it’s bad enough that your shelves continue to groan under the weight of books still unread.

The first rule was for your indulgence, too. You happened to take home a volume of the Diaries of Anaïs Nin only to find notes scribbled in the marginalia, and fell in love immediately. It’s a rare thing in your collection, but you do have someone’s old Letters to Milena and Giovanni’s Room, the latter with annotations in Arabic, of all languages.

You stare at the unwrapped gift, heart in your throat.

Emma.

Wonwoo must have been lying when he said it was his recommendation; you have your own well-worn copy, annotations and all, sitting in the corner of your shelf dedicated to Austen. Hands shaking, you open your messages, snapping a photo of the book laying on the desk.

You [picture] ??? wonwoo?? (Seen)

He sees it almost immediately; three dots appear onscreen. you hold your breath.

aa wonu It’s a gift. Don’t overthink it. But I hope you won’t get mad.

You is it smth I should be mad abt?

aa wonu Up to you.

You you know i’ve read emma, right

aa wonu Have you started reading this one yet?

You turn to Chapter 1, and gasp. There, in black ink, is Wonwoo’s familiar scrawl, remarks littering the blank space between the heading and the text. You flip through the first half, seeing how he’d write anything from a smiley face to bracket off entire passages with an exclamation point. Some brackets and underlines have longer annotations beside them that you have yet to read.

It’s all in black pen—so characteristically Wonwoo, who wouldn’t be the type to use different colored highlighters and page flags, anyway.

You oh my god. wonwoo

aa wonu The last time I read a classic was in high school Don’t judge me too harshly. Please. See you Friday?

You hesitate before replying.

You yeah ofc! see you!!

Your thumbs are shaking too badly as you type the last message; the phone gets thrown on your bed, bouncing once before resting on the pillow. A hand comes up to cover your mouth. You stare at the book, mind whirring.

Now, of course, after his exes and your own, and no confession in sight, you had buried your wishful thinking in the deepest parts of your heart. You’d even grown to appreciate it more, finding comfort in the care that was independent of any romantic expectation.

Wonwoo, your best friend, chose, out of all the books to annotate and gift you, Emma. You know how the story goes. He knows you know how it goes. Yet Wonwoo’s thoughts are here, immortalized and entrusted into your hands, the same hands you have now buried your face in while trying to reel in your breaths.

It could be nothing—could be like that time with the slippers again where you allowed yourself to be caught in your wishful thinking. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it isn’t. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it is.

You welcome Wonwoo in your apartment with a painfully bright grin, accepting his proffered bag of takeout before ushering him inside. He had offered only a soft hello, barely a smile on his face as he took off his shoes by your entrance. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep up any chatter while he washes his hands in your kitchenette, even as you busy yourself a few feet away with peeling off the tape on the plastic containers and wiping away any grease that leaked out.

“I’ll set up the table,” he breaks the silence, gaze unreadable. He’s already holding the two rice containers, and two pairs of chopsticks from your stash.

You paste on a smile, tape still sticking to your fingers. “Sure.”

He walks away. Not even when Wonwoo had broken up with his last partner, who made him choose between them and you, has it been this awkward. Steeling yourself, you join him, setting down the plate of chicken and bowl of steaming kimchi jjigae a safe distance from the laptop.

Before you begin eating, you hold up a hand for him to wait. Reaching into a nearby drawer, you pull out and offer your own present—a beta-release of a game he had been eyeing for some time now. Wonwoo’s eyes soften.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as though he hadn’t been expecting you to gift him anything.

“Of course,” you respond immediately. Wonwoo glances at you before looking away. He always sits across you when you eat, and you catch the micro-changes in his expression as he shifts, staring hard at a spot on your floor before picking up his chopsticks. He looks at anything but you. The sound of the bamboo breaking seems to echo around the space.

Eventually, it’s too much for you to bear. You square your shoulders, inhaling a quick, sharp breath.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you begin, tentatively.

“…I thought about not coming,” he replies, raising his eyes to meet yours, which have not yet looked way from him. He looks away again. Something in your chest twists painfully, even if your body is buzzing with repressed adrenaline.

“Do you still want to watch a movie? Or are we gonna talk about it?”

Wonwoo’s eyes are guarded. “Is there anything to talk about?” he replies, an edge in his voice. “You never messaged after that day.”

“I thought you wanted today to be the day we talked about it? Seemed like too big of a thing to discuss over text.” And you had spent the last week agonizing over what to feel, how to feel, what to say, and how to say it. He presses his lips together, fixing his gaze on the piece of napa cabbage resting on top of his rice. The broth stains the grains around it with a tint of red.

He rests his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl before leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. It’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be sorry.” The response feels automatic, but you do mean it. He has nothing to be sorry for.

You look at him, really look, searching his features. There’s something in his eyes that breaks your heart—as though he had come here already expecting heartbreak, yet showed up nonetheless.

Just like that, all the questions, any plans you had for today, vanish like smoke.

“Just—just wait here.” You set your chopsticks on your bowl. The bamboo clacks softly right before the chair creaks as you stand, stumbling back a little as you turn to your bedroom.

“Where is that—” you mutter. “Aha!” You run back to the table, where Wonwoo is waiting. Under his fingers, the takeout napkin is all but shreds, though he does try to hide it under the table once you arrive. You approach him, dragging your chair so you can sit beside him, nothing separating you.

“Hold out your hands,” you instruct. Wonwoo does, and you set down a copy of Emma on his waiting palms. But not the one he gave you the other day. It’s yours, the one you’ve owned for many years.

Wonwoo stares at it, before lifting his gaze to you.

“Did you know,” you begin softly. “I used to like Persuasion the most. I loved how it was written, how both characters were more mature than the ones in her other books. Pride and Prejudice had my favorite characters. But Emma…”

You thumb at its spine, and then at the crease on the cover, a thin white line disrupting what would have been solid black. Its careworn edges are familiar under your fingertips, and you know if you fan the pages in front of your nose it will smell like the characteristic scent of old books.

“Emma is the one I reread the most. At least, certain parts of it.” There’s a page marked—the scene where Mr Knightly finally lays his heart bare to Emma. From behind your back, you bring out his gift, flicking through the pages until you find the same page in this copy, Wonwoo’s only highlight in a book annotated with black pen.

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

In your copy, there’s the same, with a note in your handwriting—in the script you first learned in high school and tried to revisit some years ago before giving up: me!!! but also me when!!!!!

Wonwoo looks at both of these, mouth parted. You know how sharp he is, how the pieces have already come together in his mind.

“Really?” He asks, voice soft, as though he can hardly believe it. The only thing left is for him to believe it. You know, because you are the same. It was only the heartbreak in his eyes, the anticipated rejection at the start, that made it sure for you.

Tentatively, your hands wander, moving from clasping the book to cupping his hands, cool under your own. You glance down at the book.

“‘If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream.’” Finally, you allow the giddy smile to spread across your face. Your heart flutters against your ribs, so utterly alive. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

His lips twitch upward. After a moment, he begins to chuckle, and the weight on his shoulders seems to dissolve before your eyes. You begin to laugh too, simply out of the sheer relief of finally realizing that the past few days are now behind both of you.

“Thank God,” he whispers back. You just stay there, basking in the moment, letting the joy finally seep itself into bones that have been weighed by resignation for so long. After a while, you begin to pull away, only you catch how Wonwoo’s gaze drops down as you do. You pause, gazing at him questioningly.

There’s a minute tremble in his hands as he reaches for your face, brushing your cheek with his fingers. His thumb traces a line on your jaw. He leans in, but stops, watching your reaction first before closing the distance all the way.

Though his approach was hesitant, the kiss itself is anything but. His hands find your cheek, then your neck, then your waist, pulling you further forward. You thread your fingers through his hair, both to bring him closer and to anchor yourself. There’s the faint taste of spicy broth, but you don’t care, knowing you’re the same anyway.

“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,” you murmur once he pulls away, shaking your head. “Why now? How long have you known?”

Wonwoo just smiles. “It’s been a few months since either of us had a partner. And after the last one, when I was made to choose…they called me out on how unfair I was being, trying to be with them even as they knew I was in love with someone else.”

Your breath catches in your throat even as he continues.

“I tried to deny it, at the time, but they knew even before I did.” he finishes. He tilts his head and leans forward, closing the distance again. It’s more insistent now, the hands on your waist fully pulling you onto his lap. Wonwoo’s teeth nip at your lower lip, and you gasp. It shifts from chaste into something more demanding; his hands wander, fingers trailing paths of fire as they run across your back and grip your waist, as though he were finally releasing everything that had been pent up in him until this moment.

He swallows you into himself, and you allow yourself to be pulled into his passion. His mouth moves, latching down onto your neck and sucking. A quiet, shuddering moan leaves your lips. Wonwoo freezes. He pulls away, stricken, looking at you.

“Sorry,” he rasps. “I took it too far.” His hair is mussed, lips swollen and puffy. Something in your stomach stirs as you look at him like this—a Wonwoo you’d never seen before. A Wonwoo who is like this because of you. “I—”

You kiss him again, just because you can. Just a small thing, a tender reassurance. Pulling away, you smile. Absently, you play with the short strands of hair at his nape. “You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”

After a beat, he chuckles, shoulders relaxing as his thumbs trace circles on your waist. Wonwoo leans in, lets your lips meet again in a slow dance, almost lazy. Like you finally have all the time in the world.

“Okay. But maybe after dinner and brushing our teeth. I’m still hungry.”

“Deal.”

Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.

#maplegyu reads #maplegyu faves #austen man coded wonu!!!!!!!!!!

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