#and somehow it makes perfect sense it's only the two of them too

[melverie]

With every day closer to the one year anniversary of Nightbringer, it becomes increasingly hilarious that the only two that got banned from naming days for NB's calendar are Mammon and Satan

[skrunksthatwunk]

household enemy to the yyh watchthrough number one is the olympics. it's taken us a week to get two episodes into the gamemaster fight

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.  

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That���s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

--

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗', 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗' 𝚠/ 𝙽𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝙽𝚎𝚝

My headcanons of the lads men with a clumsy reader [Requested by: Anon]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

this man is damn near giving himself an anxiety attack worrying about you when you're not with him

covers the corner of the table with his hand when you lean down to pick something up

cuts your food for you now because you cut your finger one time and gave him a heart attack

his reflexes have sharpened from having to catch you every time you trip

keeps a pair of sneakers and flats in his car in case you drink when you two are out because he knows you'll stumble and fall in a pair of heels

would switch out his sharp cornered coffee table for an oval shaped one because you kept hitting your knee on it

places all your extra pillows on the floor on your side of the bed after you rolled off one night

keeps first aid kits everywhere because you're a walking hazard to yourself

does not let you grab a glass from a shelf you can barely reach

doesn't let you carry more than one bag because you tried to make one trip with the grocery bags and fell head first into a wall

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

still laughs every time you trip or fall "are you okay?" "stop laughing!" "I'm sorry the noise you made was funny"

holds your hand or waist when you walk up/down the stairs because you've fallen one too many times

if you drop something at the table he'll pick it up for you

gets rid of the rugs you somehow keep tripping on

is fighting for his life trying to keep you off the counters when you can't reach something

you slipped in the shower one time and gave yourself a concussion now he won't let you shower alone

subtly childproofs his house

is always confused whenever you trip, fall or get stuck "now how the hell did you do that?" "I don't know Raf help me!"

constantly pretends to toss you stuff "Think fast!" " STOP IM NOT GONNA CATCH IT!" he's already cackling on the floor

side steps you to throw you off balance on purpose; always catches you when you start falling

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

you fell down the stairs once and now he happily carries you up and down them whenever he's with you

covers the corner of the table with his hand when you drop something and lean down to pick it up

also showers with you now after you slipped one time

doesn't let your carry more than one plate

gets a google home or Alexa so you can speak to turn the lights on because you tend to run into walls looking for light switches

grabs everything you can't reach after you pulled an entire shelf down on yourself in public

sends you check-in texts to make sure you haven't hurt yourself when he doesn't see you (not that you'd admit it anyway)

is so used to your clumsiness he can almost sense when something is about to go wrong

secretly finds your clumsiness cute and now he has another reason to have you in his arms at all times

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

Sylus is probably the perfect man to be with because his evol would be perfect for protecting you

places his hand on your head when you lean down to pick something up to stop you from bumping it on anything

buys you fluffy slippers to wear around the house so your pinky toe stops banging everything in the house

wraps his evol around you when he catches you climbing on something

you cut yourself with a knife once and he hid them for only him and the chef to use after that

has the twins keep an eye on you when he's not around

replaces any tables with sharp corners for smooth edged tables

has his shower renovated with pebble stone flooring so you don't slip

takes your heels and carries you when you start stumbling

keeps a hand on your waist when going up or down the stairs

is so used to you falling all the time its almost like his evol acts on it's own to catch you

uses your clumsiness as a reason for why he should go with you everywhere

gets rid of every rug in the house and opts to get heated floors because you keep tripping on the rugs, but he knew you'd complain about the cold floors

[mr-cha-n]

Through the Lens

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genres: Smut, fluff, photographer x model AU

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, sexual content, penetration, nudity

Word Count: 12.5k

Summary: Six months. Full access. Intimate photos. A glimpse into the world of celebrity. And the last thing Jeon Wonwoo thought he was signing up for.

A/N: Publishing a draft, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

The email arrives at the most inconvenient time, as all important emails do. Wonwoo had spent the entire day at the studio, taking newborn photos of a client’s latest chow chow—"latest" being bolded because this was the third time this year that he’d been called in for this client’s endless stream of puppies. By the time he’d finished, his body was ached raw from awkward angles, and his mind was numb from a six-hour editing marathon. He only managed to drag himself back to his flat after the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, craving the sweet refuge of solitude. 

Alas, he was dragged through a two-hour catch-up session with his flatmate, Mingyu, who, with his never-ending supply of caffeine and chatter, somehow managed to convince him to watch a movie about a guy who falls in love with his childhood friend who is also a ghost. (No, it didn't make sense, but Mingyu enjoyed it, and Wonwoo had long given up trying to follow his logic.)

By the time he collapses onto the couch, half-dead from human interaction, the email is waiting. 

"Subject: Assignment Confirmation: (Y/n) (Y/l/n)."

He groans as he clicks it open, his finger hovering over the delete button, ready to toss the whole thing into the digital voice. Then he reads the first line:

"Dear Mr. Jeon, we are pleased to confirm that you have been selected as the official photographer for the upcoming feature on (Y/n) (Y/l/n), world-renowned socialite and philanthropist."

"What in the world..." Wonwoo mutters. He doesn't even really remember submitting his name for this, and he's shocked he'd ever consider it. Wonwoo has long made a mental vow to avoid people like you - socialites, celebrities, influencers - whatever you call them. In the world of photography, they are all the same: walking photo opportunity with zero personality and way too much drama. Perfect for paparazzi, but not something he has time for. 

He's a quiet, detached observer of the world. He doesn't need to be a part of it.

But the email continues:

"We have full confidence in your ability to capture the raw and humanising side of Ms. (Y/l/n), giving our readers an intimate glimpse into her life, both public and private."

Raw? Humanising? Intimate? Which magazine is this again, the National Geographic?

His eyes flicker back up to the top of the email, growing wide as he sees the sender. Well, shit. Opus Magazine. He does remember applying for this, although, in his defence, they hadn't specified the subject of the op-ed when he'd submitted it. 

"We are excited to have you on board for this project, which will span the next six months. Your first shoot is scheduled for next Thursday, at 10 AM, at Ms. (Y/l/n)’s residence. We look forward to seeing how your unique perspective brings this project to life.

Thank you for your time and commitment.

Best regards, The Editorial Team Opus Magazine"

Wonwoo leans back, tilting his head toward the ceiling as if the world would offer him an answer. It doesn’t.

In all fairness, he has never actually met you before. But he's seen you everywhere. The perfectly curated Instagram feed. The charity galas. The interviews. The way you seem to be exactly what everyone wants you to be: flawless, effortless, untouchable.

A three-page approval form for every photo, he assumes. 

The door to the living room creaks open. "How are you not asleep yet?" Mingyu says cheerfully, poking his head in. Wonwoo glances at the clock on his screen: 2:43 am. He chooses not to point out that Mingyu's still awake too.

"I've been assigned to photograph (Y/n) (Y/l/n) for the next six months." Wonwoo grumbles, tapping his phone screen as if he could wipe away the whole thing with a swipe.

Mingyu's eyes widen in surprise. "Wait - (Y/n) (Y/l/n)? As in Forbes Under 30 (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?!"

"Yes. That one." Wonwoo replies flatly, eyes narrowing. "Six months. Full access. I'm going to want to die halfway through."

Mingyu looks delighted, clearly missing the gravity of the situation. "Ooh, this is going to be so fun! You're going to be all glamorous and -"

"No. No, I'm not," Wonwoo interrupts. "I'm going to hide behind my camera and take photos of her from so far away that she doesn't even know I'm there."

“Yeah, okay, Mr. Anti-Social. But—” Mingyu plops down beside him, grinning. “—what if she wants to get to know you?"

Wonwoo turns to him, unamused. "It's a professional gig to make her look good; she won't want me digging into her real life."

Mingyu, without missing a beat, grabs a bag of chips and shoves them into Wonwoo’s lap. “Just saying. People don’t come with Instagram models and high-profile gigs attached unless there’s something extra special about them, right? Maybe she’s a hidden gem.”

"Hidden gem?" Wonwoo scoffs. "Or a nightmare in designer shoes."

It doesn’t take long for Mingyu to bombard him with unsolicited advice. “... here’s my tip for you. Don’t just take boring photos. You know what’s going to make her stand out in the sea of perfect socialite portraits?” He paused dramatically. “Unfiltered moments. Catch her when she’s off guard. Capture her when she doesn’t know she’s being watched.”

Wonwoo shoots him a deadpan look. “What, you mean like stalking her?”

“I prefer the term artistic observation,” Mingyu replies, grinning mischievously. “Trust me. You’re going to fall in love with her vulnerability. You know, the real her. The one she hides behind all the glam.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, already regretting this conversation. He’s not even met you, and here Mingyu was, crafting an entire narrative of undiscovered depth based on nothing but a couple of well-lit photos.

Still, his finger hovers over the accept button. 

Six months. Full access. Intimate photos.

Maybe he should just ... get on with it.

Wonwoo hasn't actually met you yet and he's already regretting his decision. 

He's spent the past week alternating between panicking and ignoring the dozens of emails for your team, each one more frantic than the last. First, they sent a detailed itinerary of the shoot, followed by an even more detailed list of instructions on what he should wear, when to arrive, and what colour lens he should use for "optimal lighting" - as if he didn’t know how to work a camera by now.

9:00 AM, Inbox:

“Subject: URGENT: RE: Ms. (Y/l/n)’s Preferences for the Day”

“Good morning, Mr. Jeon,

I hope you're prepared for today’s shoot! Please note that Ms. (Y/l/n) prefers a soft light filter on all images, especially when she’s not directly posing. We’ve attached a sample of how she likes her candid photos to look (it’s very specific). Do ensure that you have the required lens, and if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out.

Best, Assistant to Ms. (Y/l/n)’s PR Team.”

Wonwoo stares at the email for a moment, blinking. Soft light filter? Do you breathe, or do you simply exist in a perpetual soft-focus glow? His finger hovers over the "delete" button, but he refrains. He already knows this is a battle he’s not going to win.

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to get up. He throws on his jacket, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him worse than when he submitted his final portfolio at college, and the project hasn't even begun yet. There's no escaping now. He has to do it - he's been hired for this. Paid for it, too, which means he's legally obliged to at least try.

He arrives at the shoot location just before 10 AM: a sprawling, minimalist mansion that looks like it's been pulled from the pages of an interior design magazine. It's sleek, modern, and incredibly intimidating. The atmosphere is slick with an 'unapproachable luxury' vibe, and Wonwoo can already feel the tension in his shoulders as he steps out of his car. 

A member of the PR team greets him immediately, smiling far too brightly for someone who's probably already been working since 5 AM. "Mr. Jeon! So glad you could make it. Please follow me inside, Ms. (Y/l/n) is just getting ready.”

Wonwoo nods, trying to maintain the calm he doesn't really feel, muttering a "thank you" in response.

Inside, everything is sleek and spotless - nothing out of place, nothing too personal. Like no one's ever lived here. He's brought to a sitting room where the lighting is admittedly perfect. Almost too perfect. He's not used to working in these conditions. He's used to having to fix things last minute, create something out of nothing, or use the imperfections to his advantage. A soft hum of quiet chatter fills the air, and a stylist is busy adjusting something behind the curtain.

He doesn't know what he's expecting as you walk out. Maybe someone a little more ordinary, a little less polished than the figure seen in magazines. He's worked with models before, and they've always been so normal outside of shoots. But when you step into the light, it's like the room takes a collective breath. You're impossibly beautiful, even he can admit that, in that "perfectly put together, but effortless charming" way. Your smile hits him like a tidal wave, all dazzling teeth and liquid confidence, and for a split second, he forgets why he's here. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but what comes out is a dry, “Hello.”

You tilt your head slightly, looking him up and down with eyes that seem to see everything. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your voice smooth, almost teasing.

Wonwoo feels a flutter of unease in his chest, though he’s not sure why. It’s not like he hasn’t worked with famous people before, and yet something about you—something about the way you look at him—feels like an interrogation.

“Ah, well,” he stammers for a second, clearing his throat, “I… I hope it’s all positive.”

The smile on your lips doesn’t waver, but there’s something almost too sharp about it. The kind of smile that’s practised, like you’ve been wearing it since you were a child in front of mirrors, learning the exact angle for maximum charm.

“Oh, absolutely. You’ve got quite the reputation,” you say, as if it’s an afterthought. “They told me you’d be professional.”

Professional. Right. Because that’s exactly what he is. He’s always professional, no matter how much he wants to roll his eyes at the utter insanity of the situation. 

He offers a stiff nod. “Good. That’s what I’m here for.”

You smile again, but this time it’s softer. There's a flicker of something in your eyes, almost like amusement, but also curiosity. For a moment, Wonwoo wonders if he's just a novelty to you, something to poke at for fun. Or maybe you think you’re the novelty here, and he's just another player in the game you're used to winning. Either way, he can feel the weight of that gaze, and it’s not entirely comfortable.

You take a step closer, and Wonwoo resists the urge to take a step back. It’s like you have this gravitational pull—magnetic, impossible to ignore. But he’s not going to let that faze him. His eyes stay focused on your face, trying not to let your presence throw him off his game.

“So,” you say, tilting your head slightly, “what’s your plan for today? I’m assuming I’m not just going to stand here all day and look pretty?”

It's a light question, but he can hear the expectation in your voice. He’s used to people expecting things. It’s just—well, usually, it’s an email with 10 bullet points, not an interrogation delivered with a smile.

“I’ll take a few shots first,” Wonwoo replies, keeping his tone neutral. “Get the feel of the lighting. Then we’ll see if we need anything more posed.”

You nod, and decide the conversation is over, floating back over to the set.

Wonwoo lifts his camera, adjusting the settings to give himself a moment to settle down.

You stand still, not quite posing, but perfectly aware of your body. Everything about you seems calculated. Even your fingers, relaxed at your sides, seem to fall into the right positions at just the right time. It’s strange, though, because you’re not the robotic kind of poised he’s used to. There's a subtle looseness to you, a humanity that he doesn't expect.

“How does this work?” you say after a beat. “You just take my picture and call it a day?”

Wonwoo focuses on adjusting the lens, trying to suppress the slight frustration that’s bubbling up. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to take your picture. All he wants is to get the job done and move on.

But instead, he clicks the shutter. One, two, three shots in rapid succession. The light catches your face in a way that’s almost too good to be real, too perfect for anyone to be this unfailingly photogenic.

“Relax,” he mutters more to himself than to you. “Just act natural.”

You tilt your head again, this time a little more playfully. “Natural?” You raise an eyebrow, a soft chuckle escaping you. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what that is.”

Wonwoo’s finger freezes over the shutter, and he looks at you again, the barest hint of annoyance tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I’m sure you can manage."

You laugh then, a light, almost mythical sound, and for a moment, the tension in the room eases just enough for Wonwoo to breathe. “I’ll try. But no promises.”

He clicks another shot, and for the first time, something in his chest loosens. It’s not much—just a tiny shift—but it’s there. You’re... interesting.

“Tell me, Mr. Jeon,” you ask, your voice low. "I'm intrigued as to why you decided to do this shoot. What's your opinion on people like me?"

Wonwoo lowers the camera, the question catching him off guard. “What do you mean?”

You shrug, your gaze flicking toward the window, your expression momentarily unreadable. “People who live in the public eye. People who everyone thinks they know, but don’t. What’s your opinion on that?”

“People like you don’t need opinions,” he says, his voice flat, “because you already know how everyone feels about you.”

He’s being sharp. Cold, even. And he knows it. But he can’t help himself. This isn’t the first time he’s worked with someone who expects the world to revolve around them. It’s what they do. It’s why he keeps his distance.

You don’t react immediately. You just stare at him for a moment, your expression unreadable.

For a split second, he wonders if he’s crossed a line. But then your lips twitch, just the slightest hint of a smile.

“Well,” you finally say, your tone warm but still guarded, “I suppose that’s one way to see it.”

Wonwoo wants to say something else, maybe something witty or sarcastic, but he stops himself. Instead, he lifts the camera again, focusing on the next shot.

No matter how much he tries to bury it, Wonwoo can’t help but feel... a little intrigued by you.

Just a little.

The second shoot is at your apartment. 

Wonwoo had been floored when he'd found out - although the spotless nature of the first home had kind of given away that it wasn't actually yours. More than that, the fact that he, despite meaning to have creative control over the project, wasn't told that the purpose of the first shoot was to show a contrast between how people thought you lived and how you actually lived. Seemed like something he should have a say in.

As he arrives, the reality is different to what he'd imagined, and the opposite of the slick, minimalist mansion. 

Your apartment is, in a word, alive. The first thing that hits him is the colour. Bright hues of teal and mustard yellow leap off the walls, the kind of vibrant tones that feel like they belong in a 70s sitcom. The entire place seems to be a throwback to a cooler, bygone era, as if time itself was gently bent to live in this space. Mid-century modern furniture clashes with bold retro patterns—geometric prints, zigzags, and polka dots galore. 

The space is wide and open, but it’s not the sterile kind of open that’s all white walls and cold metal. No, this is a living, breathing room that demands attention with its quirk and charm. He prefers it.

The walls are covered in vintage posters from concerts, movies, and random ads from the 60s and 70s—faded, but still full of energy. One poster catches his eye in particular: it’s a photograph of an old jazz band in action, the colours almost washed out but still vibrant in their intensity. He notices that it’s not framed, just tacked on with mismatched pins as though it was thrown up without a second thought. It’s a detail that makes him think you probably chose it on a whim.

At the far side of the room, there's a vintage bar cart—wooden, with brass accents, stocked with various bottles and a large glass decanter that catches the light as though it’s waiting for its next cocktail to be poured. A small but proud collection of classic board games, with bright, cheerful colours that look like they belong on a childhood shelf, sits close next door. 

Despite the space being filled with vintage charm, there’s a kind of organised chaos to it all. The floor might have an old rug with faded patterns that don't quite match the couch, and the coffee table—half-full of magazines, books, and a stray mug—couldn’t be called tidy, but it’s the kind of mess that makes the space feel lived-in.

The thought makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

You lead him inside, wearing a loose, earthy sweater and faded denim jeans, a marked contrast to the polished image he’s gotten used to seeing in magazines. You still look beautiful, but comfortable. Not model-perfect. 

“You can set up wherever you’d like,” you say casually. Your voice is warm, and easy-going in a way that’s almost disarming.

Looking around, he realises for the first time that none of your team is here. And, weirdly, it unsettles him.

He finds himself pausing for a moment when he notices a worn book sitting on the coffee table, the edges curled with time. He’s always had a soft spot for books, the way their covers could tell so much about the person who owned them. And that book? It’s clearly one you’ve read over and over.

His fingers hover over his camera lens for a moment, and before he can stop himself, he mutters, “You read a lot?”

You glance over, surprised. “Hmm?”

“The book.” He gestures vaguely, “It looks well-loved.”

You laugh softly, a short, pleasant sound that makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t fully understand. “Oh, that? It’s nothing, really. Just something I found at a little bookstore in Paris. I’ve read it a million times, but... sometimes, it feels like you can always find something new in the pages, you know?”

Wonwoo opens his mouth, but no words come out. It's almost spinning his head around - the way that you're mixing together something so casual like a well-worn book with the detail that you got it in Paris. There's this weird grating of human and celebrity that he doesn't know how to deal with.

You seem to notice the shift in his gaze, your smile becoming a little softer. But instead of explaining more, you walk over to the window and lean against the frame, glancing outside. “So, how do you want to do this today?” you ask, clearly trying to get back on track.

Wonwoo nods, snapping himself back into work mode. “Let’s start with some natural shots,” he says briskly, pointing to the light streaming in through the window. “You can stay by the window, maybe. I’ll catch the light.”

You agree without hesitation, sitting down on the frame. 

The shots begin. You sit, your eyes thoughtful but distant, as if lost in some thought. He clicks the shutter a few times, and the room is silent except for the rhythmic sound of the camera.

The more he shoots, the more he finds himself paying attention to the small things. The way you absentmindedly twirl a lock of hair between your fingers. The way your posture softens after a few minutes, like you’re forgetting he’s there, and yet still poised.

The next shot clicks, and you look up at him, catching his eye. 

“Is that good?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He swallows, feeling a slight tension in his throat that wasn’t there before. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

The words come out without thinking, and he can feel his cheeks flush slightly at the sincerity with which he says them. He's fiddling with his camera settings again, trying to adjust the light for the shot, as you sidle over to the small vintage record player near the window. The soft crackling sound of a jazz record fills the air. 

He doesn’t expect it when you suddenly speak, your voice soft but with an underlying curiosity.

“So,” you say, not turning around, your fingers gently tapping against the edge of the record player, “I’ve been wondering… you’ve been pretty quiet this whole time. Not like the others. Why is that?”

Wonwoo glances up, caught off guard. “What do you mean?” He doesn’t look at you directly, still adjusting the focus on the lens, anything to avoid eye contact.

“I mean,” you laugh lightly, spinning the record player’s dial, “everyone else I work with is always talking. About work, about their lives, about whatever’s trending—people like to talk, especially when they’re nervous. You’re the only one who hasn’t said much about anything.”

There’s an open quality in your tone, no judgment, no pressure, just curiosity. And for some reason, that makes him feel even more exposed than if you had pried into his personal life directly.

“I guess I’m not a fan of small talk,” Wonwoo mutters, setting the camera down a little too abruptly, feeling a tightness in his chest. “I don’t really need to fill the silence.”

You turn to face him then, and for the first time, he notices how unguarded your expression is. There’s no fake smile or calculated pose—just an interested look.

"I get that," you say, your voice now quieter, almost thoughtful. "But... do you ever feel like you miss out? I mean, silence is... great, but it’s also really lonely sometimes, isn’t it?"

"Not really,” he says, not meeting your gaze. “I’m fine with being on my own. I’ve always preferred it.”

You tilt your head, studying him with an intensity that makes him shift uncomfortably. "You know," you say, taking a step toward him, your voice soft but deliberate, "I always thought I’d be fine alone too. It's funny how we get so used to being surrounded by people, by noise, by the ‘right’ kind of company—when, in the end, it’s really the silence that’s the most honest."

Your words sink into him, a little unexpected, a little disorienting. There's a weight to them—like you’ve really thought about this. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his voice less guarded, almost teasing, but there’s an edge of curiosity there too.

You pause for a beat, a soft smile playing on your lips. There's something mischievous in the way your eyes twinkle. "Well," you begin, you're voice light, "what I mean is that maybe the real stuff gets lost when you get too good at hiding behind the quiet."

He raises an eyebrow, but before he can reply, you finish with a playful, almost theatric sigh: "Or maybe I'm just trying to get you to talk. You know, because I certainly don't want to be the only one in the spotlight in this room. It's exhausting, really."

He can't help it—he laughs. A quiet, breathy sound, but it’s real. Something about the absurdity of it all. Something about the way you deflect it all with that charming, nonchalant smile.

"You're a work in progress," you grin wider, eyes narrowing. "But I'm going to crack you open."

Wonwoo is still chuckling, a disbelieving snort of laughter he can't hide. He leans back in his chair, running his hand through his hair as he studies you with a wry smile. "Yeah, well, I’m not sure I’m the one who needs cracking open," he says, his tone half teasing, half resigned, as if he’s already lost the battle.

You pause for a moment, surprised that you've actually got him joining in on your jokes. But you don't press. Instead, you give him a sideways grin and lounge out over your statement, mustard couch. "Tell me, Mr Jeon - do you still think your opinion of me doesn't matter? Should I go back to hiding behind the perfect image for you to capture what everyone else already thinks of me?"

Wonwoo chuckles, shaking his head. He can’t deny that something about you has started to chip away at his carefully cultivated indifference. "I don’t think you could ever hide, even if you tried."

The jazz record continues to hum in the background, and Wonwoo starts to wonder if he's finally found something worth shooting beyond the lens. 

When he makes it back home, the camera bag feels heavier than usual, and the moment he closes his front door, he's hit when the familiar sense of quiet. 

He dumps the camera bag on the kitchen counter and heads straight for his desk, flipping open his laptop with the enthusiasm of someone who’s about to dive into hours of editing. The usual dread of looking through the pictures fades as he opens the files. He didn’t think he’d be so invested in this shoot, especially not with you, of all people. But the truth is, the moment he starts scrolling through the shots, he’s a little bit stunned.

There are candid moments of you, captured so naturally. Your hair falls in your face as you laugh at something he barely remembers, the light coming in through the window bathing you in that soft golden glow like you were born for this. The quiet, unguarded moments—your fingers absentmindedly tapping against the coffee table, your eyes softened with a thought he’ll never fully know.

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until the shot where you’re sitting by the window, gazing out at the street, completely oblivious to the lens. It’s raw. And weirdly, it’s beautiful in a way he didn’t anticipate.

With a sigh, he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

And damn it, now he’s got to figure out how to keep it professional when all he wants to do is scroll back through these photos of you for the next few hours.

He grabs his coffee again, takes another sip, and mutters under his breath, "What’s the point of professionalism, anyway?"

Wonwoo is not thrilled about attending the gala. In fact, he's pretty sure if he could just get lost in the crowd and pretend he's not there, he would. But, alas, work. He's there, standing awkwardly by the hors d'oeuvres table, holding the camera like it's a shield. The entire place is dripping in opulence - golden chandeliers, champagne towers, and a sea of glittering gowns and tuxedos so shiny they could be mistaken for mirrors.  It's the kind of event where everyone’s either a billionaire or pretending to be one.

And then, of course, there’s you.

You move through the room like you've got a personal spotlight, laughing with people he's never heard of, shaking hands with people he has. The dress you're wearing is stunning, too, naturally - deep emerald green, with a neckline just high enough to make it look elegant but low enough to make him briefly question his entire career as a photographer. He should be focused on the job. But you're flashing that perfect smile, chatting with rich old men and influencers alike, completely different from the version of you he saw in your apartment just a week ago, laughing over a worn book.

He watches you interact with the other guests, a dance of small talk, well-placed compliments, and calculated interest, and suddenly, he feels like he’s been shrunk down to the size of a cockroach. If someone took a photo of him, An intruder in your world would be the title. The camera, which he thought would make him feel a little less out of place, feels heavy in his hands, as though it might give away the fact that he’s just not meant to be here.

You glance in his direction, catching his eye from across the room. He freezes. He can almost hear you sighing internally before you offer a small, knowing smile.

"Mr. Jeon!" Your voice floats toward him over the clink of glasses and high-pitched laughter. "How are we doing? Getting some good shots?"

He stares at you, blinking. You’re asking him in that casual, sweet tone that’s just different from your “public persona” voice. It’s like a crack in the glass, and he suddenly feels... disoriented. The contrast is so stark that for a second, he forgets how to respond.

"Uh—yeah, I mean, everything’s fine," he stammers, adjusting the camera lens like it might offer him some sort of escape from his discomfort. "Just, you know. Capturing the glamour." He motions vaguely at the glittering scene around him, feeling more awkward by the second. His fingers hover over the shutter button, but they hesitate.

You laugh, a polite, rehearsed sound. "Ah, yes. Glamour. The thing I do so well." You flash him a smile that could melt diamonds and suddenly he feels like he’s about two seconds away from accidentally snapping a picture of his own nervous breakdown.

The silence between you stretches just long enough for him to feel like the entire room is waiting for him to speak. He clears his throat. "It’s... different, isn’t it? Here?"

You tilt your head slightly, raising an eyebrow, as if trying to gauge whether he’s joking or not. "Different?" You laugh again, but this time it’s more self-deprecating. "I guess. But it’s what I’m used to. The lights, the faces. I mean, it’s all a bit much sometimes, but..." You trail off, and for a second, it feels like you're letting something slip.

But then someone else approaches you, pulling you into a conversation about some charity auction or art gala (he stops paying attention, realising he’s been trying to capture your attention too long), and just like that, the moment is over. You slip right back into the role, offering another perfect smile, your body language straightening, as if you’re suddenly filled with all the energy you didn’t seem to have a second ago.

The space feels suffocating all of a sudden, and Wonwoo wonders if he should have stayed home, maybe edited a few more of those photos, or gone for a walk—anything to avoid being a part of this gilded zoo. He looks through the lens, catching another shot of you laughing with an older gentleman, your hand resting lightly on his arm. 

A loud crash breaks through the air.

Wonwoo's head snaps in the direction of the sound, instinctively lifting the camera as if it's somehow going to make sense of the situation. 

He spots a waiter, wide-eyed and mortified, standing frozen next to a toppled champagne tower. Glasses are shattered everywhere, a sea of bubbly liquid spilling across the pristine white carpet like some kind of modern art installation.

The room falls into a hushed silence.

He can feel the collective tension, the people who’d been laughing and chatting a second ago suddenly stiffening in disapproval. Someone gasps—probably just for dramatic effect—but the truth is, everyone’s too rich, too important to react with anything other than mild disdain. A few uncomfortable glances are exchanged, and one of the older men starts muttering under his breath, his hands clutching his glass like it’s a lifeline.

And then, like someone flipping a switch, you’re there.

You glide through the crowd with a purposeful ease that makes everything else fade into the background. People part for you as though they know exactly what you’re about to do. The smile that had been plastered on your face during the earlier conversation is gone, replaced with a soft, serious expression, one that’s sharp in its concern.

"Excuse me," you say, your voice suddenly commanding but not unkind. Wonwoo can tell the waiter is waiting for the blowout, the yelling, the anger - but it's not there.

"It's alright, don't worry. It's just a few glasses. Are you hurt?"

The waiter shakes his head, and you kneel down beside him to start gathering up the broken shards of glass with careful motion. "Let me help, then."

The people around you are still hesitant, staring awkwardly, unsure whether they should step in or just stand back and pretend like nothing's happening. But you’re focused on the task at hand, moving with precision, completely unaffected by the sea of disapproving looks that surround you.

Wonwoo finds himself frozen again, his camera half-raised. His finger hesitates on the shutter button, unsure if he should capture the moment. You don’t seem to care about the image you're creating, not in the way you do for the cameras. Here, you’re just someone helping out, unbothered by the chaos unfolding around you. 

After you finish clearing up the last of the glass, you stand up and dust your hands off, flashing a quick smile to the waiter, who looks completely relieved. You stand tall, taking in the now-silent room with a playful glint in your eye.

“Well," you say, wiping your hands on your dress, "I always knew I was good at breaking the ice, but I didn’t think it’d be literal this time."

The room goes quiet for a beat, and then, just like that, a few people start to chuckle. Someone claps lightly, another offers a small cheer, and the tension evaporates into a burst of laughter.

You throw your hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, don’t all applaud at once. Just trying to keep things interesting around here."

With that, the conversation picks up again. The guests move, shift, and suddenly, the night feels like it’s back in motion. Wonwoo watches from a distance, surprised at how quickly the entire atmosphere shifted. You just defused the room with a smile and a joke, as if it had all been part of the plan.

"Hey," you're walking up to him, stepping into his personal space as the final whirlwind of flashing cameras wraps up an evening of too many glasses of champagne and handshakes that feel more like a chore than a greeting. "What are you doing after this?"

Wonwoo looks up, startled. "Uh, I… well, I was just going to head back. Got a few edits to finish up," he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

You tilt your head, studying him with a slight grin. "That sounds like fun," you tease. "But I’m guessing it’s not exactly going to be a good time."

He pauses, feeling almost embarrassed for a moment, before shrugging. "I guess I could skip it."

A small beat of silence passes between you, and then you speak again, quieter this time. "You know," you start, your voice softer than before, "if you don’t have anything better to do... I’d, uh, actually kind of like to go out. No fancy people, no cameras. Just… I don't know, something normal."

Wonwoo looks at you for a beat, wondering if you're asking him to go with him, as the corners of his lips twitch upwards. "You mean no red carpets and champagne?"

You laugh, soft and genuine. "Exactly," you say, your voice laced with a touch of vulnerability. "Just, you know, being normal for once."

The way you say "normal" almost makes it sound like a forbidden word in your world, and Wonwoo feels a flicker of something.

"I’m in," he says, the words slipping out before he can think too much about them.

You give him a small, almost shy smile. "Alright. You follow me."

It’s an hour later, and you’re driving through the city, the sound of the tyres on the road mixing with the faint hum of the radio. You didn’t tell him where you were going, just that it was "something fun." Wonwoo’s pretty sure you’ve never driven anywhere that didn’t require a driver, but here you are—on a small, crowded street near the heart of the city, pulling up to a diner with neon lights flickering like they haven’t been replaced in a decade.

"This place?" Wonwoo asks, looking out the window at the 24/7 diner with its retro sign and low-key vibe.

"Yep. We said normal, right? Well, this is as normal as it gets."

He raises an eyebrow, but before he can protest, you’re already getting out of the car, leaving him no choice but to follow.

Inside, it’s a whole different world. The diner smells faintly of coffee and fried food, and the clink of mugs and chatter of a few late-night patrons makes the place feel strangely cosy. There’s a jukebox in the corner, and despite the place being stuck in a time warp, you both sit down at a booth, the vinyl seats creaking under you as you slide in.

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the normal kind of silence that feels more like breathing than awkwardness. And then, finally, you speak.

"You want to know something crazy?" You say, looking down at the menu, though you made it clear in the car that you've already memorised it. 

Wonwoo looks up, his brow furrowing slightly as he nods.

"This is probably the first time in a while I haven't felt like I have to perform. Which is, actually, crazy. Because I'm hanging out with a professional photographer who's being paid to capture every moment of my life." You let out a disbelieving scoff, your lips curling into a grimace-like smile.

"I get that," he replies, his voice softer than he expects. "It's different for me too. I'm not sure I remember the last time I spoke to any of my friends, other than my flatmate, who insists that we have a catch-up meeting every day."

You chuckle, the crinkles of your smile flattening out. 

The waitress arrives, interrupting for a moment, and you order a milkshake without hesitation. He orders something random, revelling in the thrill of not thinking too much about anything.

"I get lonely sometimes," you say after your order arrives, so quietly that Wonwoo almost misses it. "I know it’s weird, I mean, people are always around me. But it’s like... they don’t really see me. They only see the version of me they expect."

He's not sure if you're still tipsy, although the rosy flush of your cheeks suggests so, or if you now feel very comfortable with him. 

Wonwoo isn’t sure what to say, so he just lets the silence settle for a moment, letting your words hang in the air like a soft echo.

"You know," he says after a beat, his voice lighter than before, "I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who can juggle both a charity gala and a diner milkshake at 3 AM with such grace."

You snort, blowing bubbles into the drink that leave splashes of pink liquid sizzling on the diner table. The sight is enough to set Wonwoo off too, laughter spilling out of him in a way that's only possible in the early hours of the morning. 

"I should take a photo of that," he chuckles as you give him a large grin, the straw still sticking out of your teeth as you mop up the spilt drink. 

But he doesn't. Doesn't even think to take his camera out of its bag. 

Instead, he just watches you—really watches you—for the first time tonight, as you sit there, messy and unapologetic, with your eyes twinkling. And you're not the person everyone in the ballroom thought you were. 

"Maybe we should do this more often," you say, your voice unexpectedly soft as you look up at him. 

Wonwoo nods, the corner of his mouth curving up in the smallest of smiles. "Yeah. Maybe we should."

You've taken a surprising interest in Wonwoo’s regular work. Since you got him to admit that this project wasn’t really his usual gig, you've made it your personal mission to dig deeper. 70% of your questions have revolved around what he actually enjoys doing, the kind of work that doesn’t come with velvet ropes or high society guests. It’s a little like watching a puzzle slowly get pieced together—a mixture of curiosity and the way you just can't let go of something that intrigues you.

So, when you mention, "I think it's only fair you show me what you usually do," it’s not entirely out of the blue.

"Alight, alright," Wonwoo mutters, realising that he owes it to you to let you peek inside his world too. "But don't expect anything glamorous. Magazine spreads don't feature heavily."

Your eyebrows shoot up in an exaggerated gasp that has him rolling his eyes. "I'm not expecting you to change into a suit and tie, if that's what you're worried about." You grin. "but if you do, I'll totally snap some behind-the-scenes shots."

"Don't get any ideas," he mutters, but there's a soft laugh behind his words. 

You look like an archaeologist discovering ancient treasures as you step into the studio, and Wonwoo has to resist the urge to photograph the look on your face. He wasn't lying when he said it wasn't much, but it's quieter than the outside world, which is just the way Wonwoo likes it. The walls are lined with a few scattered prints, some framed, others just leaning against the wall, like they’ve been left to gather dust for the sake of catching a different light. The easel in the corner holds the remnants of his last attempt to paint, the workbench cluttered with film rolls, empty coffee cups, and a few stray brushes.

You pause in the doorway, taking it all in.

"So," you begin, "where's the real deal? Show me your favourites."

He shrugs and walks over to a table filled with various photo equipment, adjusting his glasses as he picks up a roll of film. "I’m not sure what you’d consider my 'thing,' but I mostly shoot for personal projects. I like experimental work. I mean..." He looks over at you, and for a second, there's a flicker of something more, something deeper. "I like showing things that don't get seen. Telling stories that don’t get told."

You step further into the room, your curiosity piqued. "The more I learn, the more I marvel at the fact that you chose to do photograph me," you tease. 

He looks back at you, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "It's good to try new things sometimes. And, well ... I'm not so sure you're story has been entirely captured yet."

He pulls a print down from a shelf, careful with the edges, and walks over to where you're sitting. "This," he says, sitting next to you, "is one of my newer pieces. It’s… different from the usual stuff I shoot. It’s a little raw, a little wild."

The picture is a little hard to make out - a blur of colours and light, like a dream caught in motion. There's an image of a figure - slightly distorted and bathed in neon blue and orange, wrapped in streaks of light that seem to bend and curve in ways that don't make sense. It almost looks like the figure is dissolving into the frame itself, as though they’re becoming part of the world rather than a separate subject within it.

"It’s a long exposure," he continues, "but I played with the focus to distort things more than I usually do. You can see the movement in it—like the person isn’t static. They’re not just there. They’re changing. Becoming."

You tilt your head, your gaze flickering back and forth as you try to make sense of the image.

"It’s unsettling," you say softly, more to yourself than to him.

Wonwoo nods, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "That’s what I like about it. People always expect something clear, something neat when they look at photos. But sometimes, the chaos is what’s real. The blur, the overlap of light, it’s how I see things."

"It’s like… you know when you try to hold onto a moment, but it keeps slipping away? That’s what this is. The image is still, but everything around it keeps moving. It doesn’t stay still, no matter how much you want it to."

You reach out, fingertips brushing the edge of the frame, tracing the glowing streaks of light. "It’s almost like you’re trying to capture the space between things."

He pauses, eyes flickering to yours as if reading your expression. "It’s like that with people, too, right? You think you know them, but then they change. Or maybe you change. And all of a sudden, you’re looking at them and wondering who they really are. Who they were. Who they’re becoming."

You’re silent for a moment, but your gaze hasn't left his and it's piercing into him with all of the unspoken words.

And then you're eyes snap to something behind him, and he feels a little empty in the void of your gaze. A small smile slips across your lips. And you're gone, moving quickly out of your seat to get a closer look at whatever has pulled you away from him.

Wonwoo's head swivels around, like if he loses sight of you, you'll disappear. 

"Now, this is unexpected."

Your voice is laced with that mischievous tone, and it snaps Wonwoo back into reality, his gaze darting to where you're now standing, eyes fixated on the shelf behind him.

He feels his cheeks heat up before he even registers why. The camera equipment on the shelf, partially obscured by a few stray photo albums, is a large, well-worn camera with an impressive lens. But it’s not the camera that’s got your attention—it’s the stack of photos beside it.

He swallows. "Oh, those. They're… um, just some old shoots,” he mutters, reaching for the pile as quickly as he can.

But you're already stepping closer, your grin widening as you grab one from the top of the stack. Your eyes light up as you hold it up, and it’s immediately clear why you’re grinning. 

The photo is a high-end fashion shot, one of those artsy ones. It features a model—clad in nothing but strategically placed shadows and some very expensive body paint, in what can only be described as sultry poses. The subject's entire form is captured with the kind of grace and sensuality you normally associate with glossy magazines and high-end ads.

You raise an eyebrow. “So… this is what you’re hiding in here?”

Wonwoo, face flushed to a shade of pink that doesn’t belong anywhere near a professional photographer, clears his throat awkwardly. “It’s not what you think. It was a concept shoot. A long time ago. For... art.”

“Art.” You repeat the word slowly, like you're savouring it. “A concept shoot. Right.” You peer closer at the picture, almost squinting like you’re studying the fine details. “Well, I have to say, I didn’t expect you to have such a niche portfolio.”

He snatches the photo from your hands, but you’re quicker than him, leaning in just a little too close for comfort. "Come on, don't be shy. I'm sure these shots went for a pretty penny. You should be proud of them."

 “It was a collaboration with a friend. We were experimenting with lighting and shadows. It wasn’t meant to be, like, that kind of shoot.”

You tilt your head and flash him a teasing smile. "Right. I'm sure it was all very tasteful."

“Stop it,” Wonwoo says, his voice a little more high-pitched than usual. He starts sorting through the other photos quickly, trying to hide the embarrassing ones. “There were plenty of clothes involved, okay? I mean, mostly clothed. Sometimes there weren’t.”

You laugh—genuine and loud—and Wonwoo has never felt more like a teenager caught in a lie.

"Don’t worry." You lean back casually, looking him up and down. “I’m not judging. Everyone needs a little fun with their camera work. Besides, I bet your models really appreciated your... attention to detail.”

“Oh my God, stop," he groans, hands covering his face.

"Oh, I know!" You jump up, the wideness of your grin setting of alarm bells in his head. Your body contorts into a lewd pose he's sure is captured in one of the photos. "Maybe you could shoot me like one of your French girls."

Wonwoo's brain is split in half between wanting to laugh at your stupid joke, and trying to stop his mind from digging any deeper into the way you look right now. He's never been more thankful for someone laughing so hard at their own joke that it gives him the time to remember to laugh too.

"Okay, okay, seriously though." You say, your words punctuated with breathy laughs. "I'd like to do a shoot in your style. Even if you don't use it for the feature, I'd like to have them - a little memory of the project."

He’s not sure what to make of it—after all, he’s never shot anything like that with someone like you. It’s one thing to let a stranger model for his more experimental projects, but someone who’s become... well, important to him? That complicates things.

You seem to sense his hesitation, so you quickly soften your expression, dropping the teasing tone. “I mean, no pressure. You don’t have to,” you add, but your smile stays. “I just think it would be fun, you know? Something a little out of the ordinary.”

He shifts on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to think of a way to deflect without sounding awkward.  But then, he catches the way you’re looking at him—expectant, yet light-hearted. And he knows there’s no way he can say no. And the idea of capturing you in his world - through his lens - is far too appealing.

"Alright," he finally says, "“I could set something up. But it won’t be anything like what you’re imagining,” he warns, though the faintest glimmer of a smile tugs at his lips. “You might hate it.”

"I highly doubt it." Your grin widens, and you step closer. "The camera loves me."

He struggles to disagree.

You follow Wonwoo into a dimly lit loft space. The high ceilings make the place feel vast and open, but the shadows, thick and heavy, seem to swallow any trace of warmth. The windows let in just enough light to make the space feel like it’s holding its breath. Concrete floors, industrial beams, exposed brick—this place is a world apart from the glamorous venues he's captured you in so far. 

There's no luxurious set, no artfully arranged props, no stylists running around with last-minute adjustments. Just you and him. And a collection of cameras, lenses, and other mysterious equipment scattered about the space.

"We'll start here," Wonwoo's voice is firmer than he intends, and he hopes you can hear the edge of excitement underneath his words. He’s already moving toward the equipment, setting up the camera on a tripod with a smooth, practised hand.

You take a deep breath, looking a little more nervous than he expected. "What's the concept? Just… me in a room full of shadows?” You try to make light of it, but your voice betrays a hint of apprehension.

He glances over his shoulder, catching your gaze for the briefest moment, and his lips curl into a faint smile. “Something like that. I want to capture you as you are, not as the world expects you to be.”

He steps toward you, then pauses. “But it’s up to you. You can be whoever you want to be in front of the camera.”

You take a breath, almost like you're accepting something, and step deeper into the room. Wonwoo can feel his pulse pick up just a little. Something about your movements makes it hard to look away, even as he tries to keep his focus on the camera. 

As his gaze probes deeper, Wonwoo realises something. You're so used to being a perfect image that now, here, in the quiet, you have no idea what to do with yourself.

His breath catches as he presses the shutter for the first time. The soft click breaks the silence, but he doesn't lower the camera. His eyes stay on you, unable to tear away; even if he should be focused on the technicalities - the lighting, the exposure, the composition - he's not. He's seeing the cracks. The little parts of you that you've been hiding. 

Another click. And another. His fingers move over the controls, adjusting the focus, framing you just so - but all the while, acutely aware of every tiny shift in your body. The way you inhale, the way you let go of something hidden, and your shoulders relax, just slightly. 

"Good," he murmurs, though he barely recognises his own voice. The words are soft, his tone low, almost like a breath rather than a command.

You shift again. There's no thought to it, just a fluid movement, as if you're letting go of some invisible restraint. It's an instinctive thing, Wonwoo realises. You're not really posing anymore.

The camera clicks again, capturing the stillness in you, the way you seem to dissolve into the shadows, becoming part of the room. Part of the moment. He knows instantly that it's going to be his favourite.

For a split second, he wonders if you know what you're doing to him. If you know how you're affecting him, even without meaning to. His heart beats a little faster. 

He doesn't lower the camera, not yet, not wanting to lose the moment.

"Okay, that's enough," he says finally, voice low and deliberate. Even as he says it, he's not sure if he wants to stop. He wants more. But it's not just the image he's chasing now. It's something else. 

You reemerge, the colour of your confidence returning as you step out of the camera frame. "Was that okay?"

Wonwoo isn't completely sure what to say in response. If he should tell you that he wants to restart the entire feature, or that he's never felt like he's seen anyone as much as he just did. So he nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I want you to see the full vision, so I'll show you once they're edited, but I think they're going to be the best ones."

A beaming smile is released onto your face. It's heart-wrenchingly endearing how proud you are of yourself. "I'm so glad. I don't know if you noticed, but I was a little nervous about this one."

He lets out a little chuckle, his head hanging slightly as he looks to the floor, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips. "I couldn't tell. You were," he clears his throat, hands moving to adjust the settings on the camera again, "perfect. And I mean it. It's ... not just the shot. It's you." The words come out in a rush, but even as he says them, he’s certain they’re true.

He wonders, fleetingly, if you hear the difference. If you sense the subtle change in his tone—the way he can’t quite look away from you now, the way his eyes linger just a little too long.

You don’t respond immediately, and for a brief, agonising second, he’s unsure of how you’ll take it. Will you laugh it off? Will you brush it aside with that carefree charm you wear like a second skin?

But then, your smile softens, your gaze a little less playful, and you step closer. "Do we need any more?"

"I don't think so," he pauses. "Unless there's anything you want to try?"

"Well..." You look nervous, like you're trying to make your mind up about something. Your fingers play absently with the sleeve of your shirt, tugging at the fabric as if it’s a lifeline. "Maybe ... maybe I could try something different?"

Wonwoo's eyes flicker up to meet yours. He's not quite sure what you're asking, and it both terrifies and excites him in ways he's not ready to admit. He leans back slightly, considering it.

"It's your shoot," he says softly, "If you want to do something different, we can. You sound like you've got something in mind?"

You exhale slowly, and the air feels thick, drawn tight with possibility. There’s a hesitation in the way you look at him, but then you take a step forward, your presence commanding yet gentle, a stark contrast to the vulnerability in your eyes.

"The photos in your studio," your voice is soft and low, as though the words themselves are a kind of confession. "The ones ... with no clothes." Your gaze flickers briefly, almost shy, before you steady yourself again. "I want to try that. I want to see what that feels like."

Wonwoo blinks at you, his breath hitching for just a second as the words register. His fingers instinctively tighten around the camera, but he doesn’t lower it. He can’t look away from you now.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice rougher than he intended, though it’s more a response to the sudden surge of emotions than anything else. The suggestion itself isn’t unfamiliar, but the weight of it, coming from you, catches him off guard.

You nod slowly. 

He breathes slowly, trying to steady himself, but the air feels tight, like his lungs have forgotten how to expand properly. Wonwoo clears his throat, suddenly aware of the weight of the camera in his hands—of how utterly out of place it feels now. He thought he had control of this situation, of this shoot, of everything. And now he feels entirely, completely, out of control.

"Okay," he says finally, voice low, his throat dry.

You exhale, a small, almost imperceptible breath of relief, and for a moment, you both just stand there. Wonwoo watches you, his gaze tracing the small movements of your fingers, the way you breathe, the slight shift in your posture. You’re standing there, raw and vulnerable in a way that no one else ever sees, and yet you’ve asked him to witness it.

His chest tightens.

"Whenever you're ready," he murmurs, trying to sound as professional as possible, but the words come out softer than he means. He takes a step back, his heart pounding louder now, but he’s not sure if it’s from the anticipation of the shot or something else entirely.

You move slowly, agonisingly slowly, towards the chair that's hidden in the corner of the room and pull it into the camera frame. The clip holding your hair back is the first thing to go, and even watching you shake the tresses free feels like a glimpse of something he's not meant to see. Wonwoo's breath hitches as your fingers hesitate against the buttons of your shirt.

You look up at him, eyes glittering in the light of the loft. "Can you talk me through it?"

Wonwoo gulps, his brain desperately trying to keep a tether to his thoughts. 

His voice is strained when he finally speaks, a quiet rasp that betrays his nerves. "I - uh - yeah. Sure." He clears his throat again, trying to steady himself. "Just take your time. There's no rush. I want you to feel comfortable."

You nod, but your gaze doesn’t leave him. It’s heavy, almost expectant, and Wonwoo feels it pressing down on him like the air in the room has thickened with each passing second.

His heart races, and he forces himself to look away from you, staring at the camera for a moment to regain some semblance of control. But when he finally glances back, there’s no denying it: you're not just in front of the camera. You're right there, your presence inescapable. The air crackles between you, an invisible thread pulling you closer despite the distance.

You slowly unbutton your shirt, each movement measured and deliberate. The soft rustle of fabric seems deafening in the silence. Wonwoo tries to focus on the camera - on the framing, the lighting - by the sight of you undoing the buttons is sending jolts through him, making it hard to concentrate.

"Wait, stop." He's struggling to get out more than a few words, but he realises he has to explain himself as your head whips around, alarmed. "That shot - if you push the shoulder down a little -"

"I'm not sure I quite get it," your voice is a quiet invitation. He doesn't know if its a test, or something far more dangerous than that. 

He moves slowly, not wanting to startle you. And, if he's being honest, not sure that he can handle being any closer. But he's started now, and he can't not go through with it just because he's nervous about seeing skin. Focusing on his task, Wonwoo's hands gingerly pull the loose fabric of your shirt, draping it down the side of your upper arm, the fabric slipping with an almost unbearable grace, revealing the curve of your shoulder, the soft line of your skin. Wonwoo feels his pulse spike, his breath coming in shallow bursts as his fingers brush against the bare skin of your arm. It’s delicate, unintentional contact, but it feels like an electric shock, jarring and intimate all at once.

You hold your breath, your gaze fixed on his hands, your body still. 

“Just like that,” he says, his voice quiet, as though speaking louder might shatter this delicate balance between you. “Now, tilt your head just a little to the left. Keep your eyes soft... like you're looking into something just out of reach.”

Your eyes flicker, a knowing glint passing through them. “Like I’m seeing something I shouldn’t?”

Wonwoo’s stomach tightens, a shiver creeping down his spine at the way you put it. His hands hover over the camera, but for a moment, he forgets the frame, forgets everything except the weight of the moment.

"Exactly," he breathes, almost afraid to admit it aloud, but the words escape him. He’s standing so close now, every muscle in his body taut, straining against the pull of something he doesn't know how to define.

You do as he asks, your eyes softening, lips parting ever so slightly, as if you’re leaning into the invitation.

The camera shakes in his hands, and for a second, he worries that you’ll notice the tremor, that you'll see how much this is affecting him. But you don’t. Your focus is unwavering.

“Can you… can you move your hand to your collarbone?” he murmurs, barely trusting himself to speak the request aloud. “Just… trace it, like it’s the only thing you’re focused on.”

You nod, and there’s an eerie stillness in the air as your fingers drift up to the curve of your neck. Wonwoo feels like he’s drowning, like every movement you make pulls him deeper into this quiet, dangerous place between photographer and subject, between the lens and the reality unfolding just beyond it.

Each click of the shutter feels like a bullet leaving a gun.

Your fingers are back on the buttons before he can realise that the moment has moved on, and you let the shirt fall, the fabric slipping to the floor with a soft whisper. He can’t breathe for a moment.

You stand before him, unguarded, vulnerable, and yet there’s something about the way you hold yourself—so composed, so intentional—that makes him swallow back every word that he tries to form.

Your eyes lock onto his again, and it’s like time stops. “How’s the lighting?” Your voice is steady, calm, but the tension in it is undeniable.

Wonwoo’s throat is dry as he forces himself to focus. "The light... it's perfect." He clears his throat, his voice tight. "You look perfect. Just... just keep moving, slowly. Let the camera catch it all."

You nod, your lips curling into that familiar smile that has him reeling.

Wonwoo’s pulse quickens, but he doesn’t dare look away. He’s caught in the gravity of your gaze, drawn into the quiet intensity of the moment. He raises the camera, his fingers trembling just slightly as he adjusts the lens. The click of the shutter still sounds harsh, but it doesn’t break the tension.

Wonwoo almost drops the camera when your fingers hook around the loops of your pants. 

You slide them off in fluid motion, far quicker than the shirt. The smile on your face is more playful now, taunting and teasing. "What were those poses again?" 

Wonwoo’s breath catches in his throat, his hands freezing just above the camera as the image of you in front of him—the subtle arch of your back, the way your skin catches the light—burns itself into his memory. He can’t look away, and it’s like everything in the room sharpens.

"Stop," he whispers, his voice shaking. "You’re—"

He cuts himself off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. How could he describe the storm he feels brewing inside of him? The way his pulse is beating in time with the shutter clicks. The way he’s watching you, but feels like he’s barely holding onto himself, like the space between him and you has closed to a point where it feels impossible to stay just the photographer.

“Stop?” you repeat, tilting your head, the playful glint in your eyes both a challenge and an invitation. "You want me to stop?"

"I—" He clears his throat, trying to force his words into something coherent. You take a step closer, and the words fail him. 

You stop a few inches away from him, your breath mingling with his, and for a split second, you both stand there, locked in a stare that feels like an eternity. Wonwoo's heart races, and he can hear the rush of blood in his ears, but the sound of your breath, shallow and steady, is louder than everything else.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper, and the way you say his name—so softly, so deliberately—has his chest tightening even more.

His heart stutters for a second, and before he can think about it, before he can second-guess himself, he lowers the camera, his hand almost involuntarily reaching for you.

“Are you sure?” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t say anything at first. Instead, your fingers brush against the fabric of his shirt, dancing between the creases. The world seems to spin a little.

“I’m sure,” you reply, your voice steady but low. “Are you?”

Wonwoo’s pulse thunders in his ears, and he thinks he's nodding his head, but he's not sure. He swears he can feel the heat radiating off of you in waves. The tension is almost unbearable now, and his hands are shaking so badly that he’s not sure if he should step back or close the space completely.

Before he can decide, you close the gap for him, your lips brushing against his in the gentlest of kisses. It’s soft at first, tentative—like you’re both waiting for the other to pull away—but when Wonwoo doesn’t, you deepen it just enough to make his head spin.

Everything—his thoughts, his control, his self-restraint—fractures.

He pulls you closer, his hand finding the curve of your back as he deepens the kiss. He can feel you shiver as his warm hands trace the exposed skin. He has to hold back a guttural moan at the feeling of your body pressed against his.

Your hands have found his hair, tangling your fingers through the strands and feeding off of the reactions, tugging a little every time he grumbles against your lips. A small gasp leaves your lips as he pulls away from your mouth, burying into your neck, which stretches prettily with each biting kiss he leaves. 

"Is this how all your photo shoots go?" Even with your head tilted back, voice breathy as his fingers grasp onto your waist, you still find time to tease him. A small whine leaves you as his lips abandon your skin.

"You'll believe me if I say no?" His throat is scratchy, his voice raw, and it comes out more as a question. 

You laugh. "Yes - I, yes, I believe you."

The silence feels unbearably tension, like both of you are trying to blindly navigate the other's feelings. Neither comfortable enough to take the next step forward.

"What did -"

"I thought -"

Your words stumble together as you search for the right way to break the tension. Wonwoo stops, not pressing you to continue, but his grip tightens on your waist slightly, a silent question hanging in the air. 

"I was just - I wasn't sure you'd want to do this, too." You finally say. You still have that teasing smile, but your voice is small, almost unsure. 

"I do," his voice is low, rough, and there's something tender there too. "I really do."

Your lips twitch upwards, a fleeting smile curving the corners of your mouth as you move closer again. "Then, what happens next?"

Wonwoo's head darts around, looking around the dim loft. There's nothing there, other than his equipment and a few chairs - nothing particularly helpful in this scenario. Although, he should admit, he wasn't expecting anything like this when he'd set it up.

"We could go somewhere else, if that's what you want to do?"

Your eyes follow his gaze, realising the dilemma.

"But I'm already half undressed." You bat your eyelashes innocently, and he knows you're fully aware of what you're doing to him. Yet, that doesn't prevent his trousers from feeling way too tight. 

"I-" his breath catches, his fingers digging into your side. "I guess we'll have to stay here then."

"I guess so," you grin, and he wants nothing more than to pull you back in. So, he does. It's messy, primal, a tangle of limbs as your hands sloppily undo his shirt and his look for anything and everything he can reach. He doesn't miss your noise of appreciation when his shirt falls to the floor. 

Soon, his hands are wrapped around your thighs, pulling you up in one swift motion and carrying you until you hit the nearest wall. You're panting, your eyes wild and hair tangled as you grab at his neck, pulling his lips back to yours. 

It's not long before the rest of your clothes join the others on the floor. He feels a flutter of shyness as you take him in, eyes roaming across his body. But you're smiling, wide and joyful, the soft flesh of your thighs squeezing tighter on his hips. 

"Fuck, I always thought you were hot, but I can't believe you were hiding this underneath those baggy sweaters."

Wonwoo can feel the blush running up his neck like a schoolboy being complimented for the first time. His heart is hammering in his chest, a warm rush spreading through him from head to toe as he tries to work out what his eyes should be focusing on.

"I wasn’t expecting any of this. You... you’re making me nervous," he admits with a shy laugh, his hands feeling clammy against your skin. "I mean, I'm sure I'm not the first person to say you're beautiful, but I think you're so much more than what they see."

Your smile softens for a moment, and you reach forward, fingers grazing lightly over his arm, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. "I'd like you to know all of me."

The words are soft, tender, and you can probably hear his heart fluttering. And, all at the same time, the implication of them is making more than his heart flutter. 

"You're sure?" His body presses against yours even more, pushing your back further into the wall behind you. 

"Please," you nod breathily, and that's all he needs. "I want you."

His hips grind against you, head swirling at the feeling as your arms wrap around his neck for stability. "I don't have-" he manages to choke out. 

"It's fine, I'm on the pill. Just - just fuck me, please?"

His head buries into your shoulder, body twitching at your words. Pushing inside of you, the pleasure is immediate. Your hips are moving back onto him as far as you can against the wall, and his hands are firmly clenched around the flesh of your ass, holding you up in an iron grip. And you sound so good, and - more than that, you feel so good, so unbelievably good, that he's gasping out your name between thrusts.

Nonsensical words are babbling out of your mouth too; hot, dirty words of praise that only spur him on further. Your nails dig into his back, and then his hair, and then back again, like you can't pick which part of him you want to touch more. 

And fuck, you're so beautiful. Like a goddess in the low lighting of the room - but he's too scared to tell you that just yet. Soft and hard and warm against him, surrounding him, engulfing him. 

It's not long before he can feel you clenching around him, one hand clinging onto his shoulders and the other snaking between your legs. The muscles of his arms are burning slightly, but it feels too good to stop now. You're dragging him with you, panting moans with each pulse. You press your lips against his one more time, and it's all it takes to push you both over the edge.

After a few moments, he lifts his head from your shoulder and looks at you, a tender smile on his face. His lips press against yours gently, sighing with soft pants.

"Shit," You breathe, a small giggle bubbling out of you. The sound is so sweet it knocks any remaining wind out of him. 

Wonwoo chuckles, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your jaw as he holds you in place.

Your smile is warm and teasing, and you press your lips to his for a second longer. "If I had the camera, I'd capture that look forever."

[xxsabitoxx]

Roommates

Roommate Sanemi x AFAB Reader

Disclaimer: the characters and events of this story are fictional.

Warnings: Listening to someone else have sex, protected sex, male masturbation using a condom, tipsy making out, making out in a car, hand job, road head, making out in an elevator, dirty talk, hickeys, breast sucking, Sanemi has a tongue piercing, cunnilingus with a tongue piercing, blow jobs, finger fucking, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, multiple sex positions, multiple creampies, praising, spanking, biting, spitting, spit as lube, cum as lube

A/N: My confession is that I came up with this idea mid-April and it's taken me this long to get it all out. Given the fact that this is easily my longest fic, I hope you can forgive me for such a long wait. Also I apologize but this isn’t proof-read because my brain simply cannot handle proof reading a fic this long so please forgive me for any small errors that may pop up :’)

Word Count: 26.3k

Your junior year of college you decided to switch from dorm life to off-campus apartments. You were sick of having a twin XL bed, an unbearable roommate, and no personal space. As luck would have it, you found the perfect two-bedroom apartment that was just out of your budget. Considering it was two bedrooms, it only made sense to put out a notice looking for a roommate. Especially when it would cut the cost of living since you’d split the rent with them. Naturally, it made the situation even better because you’d be saving money. After several responses and a couple meet ups, you ended up encountering a man double majoring in Math and Teaching. Rough and mean looking on the outside but honestly a sweetheart, Sanemi Shinazugawa was the perfect fit for a multitude of reasons. For one, it was nerve wracking living alone as a young woman. Having a tall, buff, scar covered man as your roommate really deterred most creeps. 

The other main reason, he was a great cook. Most mornings you’d wake up to coffee brewing and food on the counter for the both of you. He was pleasant, respectful, cleaned up after himself, and was pretty easy to hold a conversation with. He was also a bit of a softie, telling you about his mom and siblings and how he happened to be the oldest of seven. It made sense why he seemed to be such a patient man, and why he wanted to be a teacher. Most nights you’d share the living room to study, occasionally eat dinner together, or share a few drinks. Your friend groups remained separate, which meant the few times you weren’t clogged up with school work, you’d go partying at different places and somehow always end up stumbling home at the same time. You enjoyed those drunken giggles as you raced for the bathroom before heading off to bed. You also looked forward to the conversations the morning after, when you would tell him all about the things that happened, including gossip about people he didn’t even know. 

Moments like that really tugged at your heart. It was nearly impossible for you to not gain feelings for the man. He was handsome, intimidating but kind when you got to know him and, well, he really was a great cook. You haven’t acted on your feelings, honestly, you didn’t think you ever would. You didn’t want to risk the good thing you had going, finding a new roommate would be hell if everything went south. Plus you would have to pay rent you couldn’t afford until you could put someone else in his place. None of it was ideal so, you kept quiet, watching him from a short distance and fantasizing what it would be like if he threw you up on the counter and fucked you stupid. Yeah, you were way too deep now. It didn’t help that Sanemi was confident and comfortable in his body, often walking around the small place shirtless. He even liked to wear baggy gray sweats that would hang low on his hips while he cooked. Something you found extremely cliché but still hot. Even when he went out, he only had a few buttons done, his scarred chest exposed for everyone to see. 

Speaking of going out, tonight would have been a great night for it, but after midterms, you were too exhausted to celebrate. Your friends agreed to go out tomorrow night instead, so now you are spending your Friday night in bed with a new tv show on your laptop and a glass of white wine. Sanemi had told you he was going out, so don’t be alarmed if the door to the apartment opens in the middle of the night. You let your mind wander a few times, thinking about the girls that were likely throwing themselves at him. You weren’t used to feeling FOMO, but you were certainly feeling it now. Just the thought alone of some girl having the confidence to talk to him made your skin crawl. But at the same time, you figured it was utterly inevitable, he wasn’t yours to begin with so you had no right to feel envious. But at the same time, you couldn’t help but wish you had pulled yourself together and asked to tag along. But that didn’t feel right either… you felt like that was involving yourself in his life way too much. You were just roommates. 

“Just roommates…” you mumbled to yourself before taking a sip of your wine, enjoying the slightly bitter taste before swallowing. You had done everything imaginable while having the place to yourself. You took your shower with no time limit, did a face mask and skin routine, and even did your nails. You had also taken the time to enjoy yourself in ways you typically had to mute when he was home. Needless to say, despite your unwanted envious thoughts, you were rather relaxed. Now, however,  it was nearly three in the morning and Sanemi still wasn’t home. I should just go to bed. But there are only a couple sips left in the bottle… and only ten minutes left in this episode… you sighed, reaching over to your nightstand to pour the rest of the wine bottle’s contents into your cup. You settled back against your numerous pillows, refocusing your attention on your laptop screen. The scene was unfolding before you but your mind was wandering to other places. He’s been out for a long time… maybe I should text him…

You shook your head, you were in no position to be questioning his whereabouts. You were thankful your phone was sitting on your nightstand, giving you time to think and talk yourself out of any stupid texts you may have sent. You zeroed in again, this time actually holding on to the words the actors were speaking. You tilted back, downing the last bit of your glass before successfully finishing the bottle. You felt it now, your cheeks had been steadily warm over the course of the last few hours. You had taken forever to finish the bottle so your buzz never really went further, leaving you in a calm state until it began to wear off. Which is when you would pour another glass and try to forget about any unwanted thoughts. As the episode’s credits began to roll, you moved to grab the empty bottle on your nightstand and bring it out to the kitchen. As you moved to stand, you heard the familiar jingle of keys slotting into the front door. 

About time, I was getting worried. You would have to wait for Sanemi to get himself situated and in his bedroom before bringing the empty bottle out, finding it just a bit embarrassing that you spent your Friday night alone in bed. You set the glass on your nightstand beside the bottle, getting up to stretch your limbs and find something more comfortable to wear to bed. Your current outfit was too warm for the wine buzz you had going on. Finally, after a moment of struggle, the front door opened. He must have had a bit too much to drink. Or so you assumed, busying yourself in your dresser as you searched for a particular matching tank top and shorts. It wasn’t until you heard a lot of fumbling that you refocused your attention on whatever your drunk roommate was doing in the living room. What the fuck is going on? 

You questioned if you should go out there and see if he was alright, pausing your rummaging to really listen in. It wasn’t until the commotion grew closer to your door that you realized two very important things. The first thing was… he wasn’t alone. The second is… It was a girl. No fucking way… Your face felt as if someone had lit it on fire, the shock mixing with your buzz was enough to make you feel like you needed a cold shower. Clothes forgotten, you moved over to your door, pressing your ear against it to hear better. The fumbling you had heard seemed to be because she couldn’t keep his hands off of him. I can’t say I blame her… No real words were being spoken, rather it seemed like you were listening in on an intense make-out session paired with clothes being discarded in the hallway. Must be nice, what a lucky bitch.

You moved away from the door, guilt prickling the back of your mind as you tried to go back to your original task. I’ll change and put earbuds in… the wine bottle can wait till morning to be discarded. You jumped slightly as Sanemi’s room door flew open. They’re going to kill each other… or worse damage the damn apartment. My security deposit… you audibly whined at the thought, not feeling quite accomplished as you found the clothes you had been looking for. You began to strip, shamelessly listening in on whatever activity was happening beyond your bedroom wall. From the muffled sounds, you assumed they were making out on his bed. You felt relief in the lighter clothing, not as suffocated by your body heat. However, it did nothing to stop the tingling arousal building in your gut. You swallowed, discarding the other clothing in your hamper as you moved to clear off your bed. 

Something was keeping you from putting in your earbuds. The logical part of your brain was screaming to give Sanemi and the girl some privacy. The horny part of your brain was telling you to listen, see just how good he was in bed. How filthy… despite scolding yourself, you threw yourself down on your bed without your earbuds in. Nothing but silence rang in your ears, saved for the muffled noises next door. With nothing else to distract you, you focused on every noise coming from Sanemi’s bedroom. It seemed like an eternity but you finally heard the girl begin to moan. “You’re so good at that…fuck…” she drawled, when Sanemi didn’t respond, you assumed it was because his head was between her legs. Just rub it in a little more… you rolled your eyes, suddenly annoyed that you were even listening in the first place. 

The girl’s moans grew in tempo, muffled suddenly, likely by a hand over her mouth. You could tell by the sound of them that they weren’t fake nor were they being exaggerated. Christ he’s really making her moan like that… you felt a steady ache growing between your legs, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything about it. I refuse to stoop that low… you’d never let yourself live it down if you got off to your roommate fucking someone else. “S-shit!” you flinched as she came, your suspicions of Sanemi’s head being between her legs was proven correct a moment later. “Fucking liked that, huh?” she mumbled a response you couldn’t hear, her voice muffled as they seemed to begin making out again. You eyed your earbuds, you knew what was coming next and quite frankly you weren’t sure if you would survive hearing it. 

There was a few minutes of unintelligible noises, you couldn’t quite tell what the hell was going on until you heard a slap. That slap was followed by another, then another, until it fell into a steady rhythm. God damn. You nearly choked on your own spit as she began moaning again. You continued to listen, cheeks burning red hot when you heard Sanemi begin to make noises too. You listened, hands clenching your comforter as you listened to the sounds they made. This is so wrong! You screamed at yourself, still entranced by every noise the two of them made. At the rate he was going, it sounded as if he’d break his damn bed. Her moans were wild and unrestrained until they suddenly grew muffled. “I told you I have a roommate, wake her up and I’ll kick you out before you can finish” Sanemi’s words held deadly consequences, enough to make you shiver at the very thought of him speaking to you like that. 

Her moans remained muffled, it seems she was too far gone to even comprehend what Sanemi was saying to her. So you continued to lay there in agonizing anticipation, counting down the seconds until they finished and she either went to bed or went home. The sound of skin slapping skin only grew in tempo, much to your dismay. It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it? You groaned, rolling onto your stomach as the sounds of sex filled your apartment. For what it was worth, it was probably ten minutes before you heard Sanemi’s thrusts get sloppy. I figured he’d have some stamina. You snort softly, feeling a little desensitized to the whole situation. “Fuck… fuck…” you nearly squealed at his pants, he sounded completely fucked out. Hot. You listened more intently, his hand must have slipped from her face because she was moaning loudly once more. “C’mon…fucking cum… please…” she sounded desperate. 

Can’t say I blame her. You sighed, your mind painting the lewd picture for you. The throb between your legs was still present but you were refusing to do anything about it. “Fuck…you’re so fucking tight.” You flinched a bit, that comment seemed so unusual when you weren’t horny out of your mind. “Yeah? Makes you fucking wanna cum, huh?” You weren’t sure why, but the commentary was making you laugh a bit. I must be losing my mind, or I’m sleep deprived. You concluded as Sanemi’s sudden moan sent a shiver through your body. “Fuck…fuck I’m close.” He grounded out, your body feeling tingly as you pushed yourself upwards to listen better. “Yeah? Come then, please oh my fuck…” she drawled, loud and breathless. They sounded like they were running a marathon. You’re going to wake the whole building at this point. 

“Fuck… fuck y/n…” you froze, sitting straight up in bed with wide eyes. It took your brain a second to catch up, realizing that all noise in the apartment had come to a screeching halt. “Y/n… who the fuck is y/n?” The girl practically shrieked. You couldn’t even think straight, the silence making your ears ring as their “moment” was clearly ruined. Sanemi hadn’t said a single word, yet the girl screeched again. “Don’t tell me that’s your girlfriend? Oh my fucking god are you cheating?” She continued to scream until Sanemi’s hand came up and covered her mouth. Whatever he said was too quiet for you to hear, but the girl helped you out. “Your roommate? Your fucking roommate? You’re  fucking me while thinking about your roommate?” She sounded absolutely hysterical, you couldn’t say you blamed her though. 

“It was an accident!” He sounded defensive, which you also couldn’t blame him for. You’d be mortified if you moaned the wrong name… but you couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact that it had been your name. “Bull shit! This is so fucking humiliating!” You could hear shuffling, then his door opening. “Don’t ever fucking talk to me again, oh my fucking god.” She sounded livid, the ruffling sound told you she was picking up her clothes that had been scattered. “I’m sorry…” he sounded a bit defeated, likely because he hadn’t gotten the chance to finish. “What fucking ever dude! Go blow your load in your roommate since that’s clearly what you fucking wanted!” You cringed as the bathroom door slammed shut, followed by a string of curses under Sanemi’s breath. That's awkward… yet you couldn’t wipe the smirk off your face. 

You flopped back on your bed, struggling not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. He was thinking about me? While fucking her? I don’t know if I should be smug or offended. You were leaning more towards being smug. “Hey…” the bathroom door opened and Sanemi spoke again, you stopped smiling and listened. “Hey nothing, dickhead. Way to kill my fucking buzz and my orgasm. If you want to fuck your roommate so bad, grow a pair and fucking do it.” She sounded livid still, completely embarrassed that she had been used as a replacement. “I told you to keep it fucking down!” His voice was a whisper yell, you could practically hear her eye roll as she spoke again. “Fuck off.” Followed by her storming out of the apartment and slamming the door so hard the place rattled. “Fuck.” Sanemi sounded utterly defeated. 

Well… that was more than enough entertainment for tonight. You sighed, rolling onto your side, sleep tugging at your mind. You’d sleep peacefully knowing what you did now. You could only imagine how the conversation would go in the morning. Sanemi, on the other hand, was fuming at his own stupidity. “Way to go dumbass.” First girl he’d ever brought back to his “new place” and he royally fucked it up. He glanced down at himself, shame flooding his cheeks. He was still hard, the condom slick with the woman’s arousal. “Fuck.” He hissed again, moving to pick up the rest of his clothing before reentering his bedroom. There was no way he was going to sleep before dealing with the issue at hand. So, detested and embarrassed, he sat on the edge of his bed and worked himself with his own hand, hissing as he spilled into the condom. “What a fucking loser you are, Sanemi.” He spoke to himself, peeling the protection off and tossing it in the trash can beside his night table. 

The next morning you woke up with a dull headache. “Ouch.” You mumbled, making eye contact with the empty wine bottle on your bedside table. Within seconds, the memories of the night flooded your brain, a dopey grin tugging at your face as you rolled out of bed. You grabbed the wine bottle, pushing your room door open and slinking down the hallway towards the kitchen. It took you a second to realize Sanemi was already awake. “Oh.” you laughed a bit, watching as his head whipped around to look at you. “I didn’t expect to see you home.” You tease as you place the empty wine bottle on the counter. “Why is that?” You could tell he was hesitant, he didn’t know if you had heard anything that had transpired only a few hours prior. You shrug, eyeing his bare torso for a moment before opening the cabinet to find the pain relievers. “You were still out by the time I went to bed.” 

You were focused on getting a glass of water, the pill bottle in your hand. You didn’t see the way his eyes trailed over your body, his mouth feeling dry as he looked at you. “Yeah, I got in pretty late.” Sanemi murmured softly, focusing his eyes away from you to look at the coffee he was brewing. You hummed, shaking two pills into your hand. “Seems you had fun during your night home.” He teased you, eyeing the empty wine bottle. “Oh yeah, a blast.” you chuckled, tone sarcastic as you took the pain relievers for your headache. “I’m shocked you didn’t bring anyone home.” You suppressed a smirk, placing your cup in the sink as you turned to face him. “You’re such a pervert.” He laughed, hoping it hid the awkward tension creeping into his shoulders. “Me? A pervert? You wound me.” You faked a look of hurt, unable to keep up with it and cracking only a second later. “Yeah, you.” He countered back. 

“Since you’re dancing around the question, I’m gonna assume you got lucky.” You watched his ears turn a shade of red, eyes immediately darting from yours. “Oh? What’s that?” You snort, watching him toy with his coffee mug. “I wouldn't say I got lucky.” You raised an eyebrow, “bad experience?” You tried to sound sympathetic, as if you didn’t hear the whole thing go south. Sanemi nodded, pulling the carafe from the machine and dumping a generous amount of the black liquid in his cup. “Horrible.” Was all he said, moving to the fridge to grab cream. “Was she not good? Or was it something else?” You continued to pry, wondering how far you could push it until he caught onto you. “Eh, we just didn’t have chemistry.” He lied through his teeth, it seemed he wasn’t interested in learning if you knew or not. “That blows” was all you could come up with, turning to grab a mug out of the cabinet yourself.

“You know, my friends and I were going to go out tonight to celebrate midterms being over. You could always join, maybe find someone else to suit your needs.” You were being genuine, eyes focusing on the coffee you were pouring. Sanemi looked at you, glancing you over with a small sigh. “I appreciate it, but I don’t think that will help.” You merely shrugged, “if you change your mind you can let me know. I mean it’s only seven in the morning.” You chuckle, taking a seat at the small dining table with him. You both sat in silence for a bit, but you could tell there was something he wanted to ask. You knew what was clawing at the back of his mind but you chose to wait and see if he’d ask it first. “You’re telling me you didn’t hear us?” He nearly choked out, the grip on his coffee cup was nearly enough to shatter it. “Hear you?” You questioned softly, looking at him from over your coffee mug. 

“Yeah, I brought her back here… it didn’t end well and she wasn’t exactly quiet about it.” You were going to deny it but the vulnerability in his eyes had your shoulders sagging. “Fine, I didn’t want to make it awkward for you, but yeah I heard her leave. The apartment door slamming shut, I mean.” It was partially the truth, but you didn’t think you could ever let him know you heard him moan your name instead of hers. When he didn’t speak, you continued. “I kinda just figured it was your drunk ass stumbling home.” You chuckled softly, hoping to ease the tension that had been steadily growing. “And you didn’t come and check on me? How rude.” There he was, laughing softly and being a smart ass. Crisis averted for the time being it seems. “Eh I figured if you could make it into the apartment, you’d be able to get to your bed.” You laugh with him, setting your mug down. “My offer still stands, Sanemi. So just let me know.” 

You get up from the table, picking up your mug and heading to the kitchen. “I’ll think about it.” He mumbled softly, eyes glued to the expanse of skin you were showing. The shorts you were wearing could be classified as underwear, he felt his ears grow hot when he zeroed in on your ass peeking out from the bottom of them. You whirled around, beaming at him. He seemed a bit surprised, lips parting slightly as you smiled at him. “No pressure, but I’d love it if you came out with us.” You surprised yourself with how sincere you sounded, not that you weren’t serious about him joining you. Sanemi just nodded, still awestruck by your reaction. You turned and left, a smile plastered to your face as you returned to your bedroom. Sanemi sat at the table, mildly shocked that he had agreed to even think about it. But the way you looked at him… it had absolutely dumbfounded him into saying whatever would make you happy. “Fuck…” he muttered softly, hand coming up to rub his face. 

It wouldn’t be the end of the world. He thought quietly, the only issue with going out with you and your friends was the fact that you’d probably try and set him up with one of them. I’m not interested in any of her friends, I’m interested in her. He groaned, using one hand to rub his forehead. He couldn’t say no to you now, not when you smiled at him like that, not when you told him you’d love for him to join you. Suck it up, Sanemi. He grumbled to himself, there was no way he was going to disappoint you. Alone at the table, his mind wandered back to the events from a few hours ago. The girl he had brought home looked like you to an extent. Same hair color, same length, similar body type. He was cringing at his drunken, horny decision, he should have just left her alone. Especially when all he could think about was you, even when he was fucking her, all he was thinking about was you. 

Sanemi huffed, staring at the cloudy amber liquid in his cup. He was typically a black coffee guy, but you bought fancy creamers that he couldn’t resist. Now he took his coffee with a healthy amount of cream. Fuck I can’t even look at my coffee without thinking about her. He held in a laugh, amazed by how quickly you were taking over his mind. It’s not like it was the first time either, hell he wasn’t even sure when he started harboring feelings for you. Maybe it was at some point during one of the rainy weekends, the ones where you two would spend hours in the living room and order some food. Or maybe it was during one of your drunken races to the bathroom, laughing like kids doing something they shouldn’t. Perhaps it was the first time he saw you in a cocktail dress to go out with your friends, or the way you tucked your hair away when you needed to focus. Or, maybe, just maybe, he started falling for you the moment he met you. How fucking cheesy. But it was the honest truth. 

Sanemi sighed, it was too early in the morning to let you consume his every waking thought. Part of him figured he should just take a shower and go to bed again, it was Saturday after all. But the other part of him knew you’d still consume his thoughts, even his dreams if he let you. Eventually, he finished his cup and made his way to the bathroom. He needed to scrub her off of him, forget about the terrible interaction and maybe take her advice… grow a pair and act upon how he feels about you. Tonight may be the night to do it. He thought to himself, turning on the water and letting it fog up the glass. He couldn’t keep dancing around his feelings for you, especially since they were far more than just lusting after you. He wanted you to share his bed, fuck the separate rooms. He could turn your room into an office or something, anything to keep you by his side. You’re practically fucking love sick at this point. 

The rest of the day went by in a blur. A few hours before you were set to leave and meet up with your friends, Sanemi let you know that he would be joining you. Now, you sat in front of the mirror on your dresser and did your makeup, the dress you wanted to wear laid on your bed. It was brand new, never worn except the time you tried it on in store. It was a simple black cocktail dress that ended at your mid-thigh. It was pretty typical for going out but you really felt no need to stick out, so simple was usually your go-to. You finished applying mascara and smiled at your work. Again, you were also going out to get drunk so the less makeup you put on meant the less you’d have to clean up at the end of the night. “Eyeliner, mascara, a little bit of concealer and… oh!” You reached for your lip stain, applying a generous coat to your lips before setting it down. While it dried, you went and pulled your heels from your closet and set them by the foot of your bed. 

You undressed, slipping into your dress and then sliding on your heels. Once completed, you returned to your dresser and dabbed your lips with a tissue, reaching for a gloss to apply on top. “This is a lot of effort for something that won’t even last me an hour” you chuckled as you twisted the top back on the tube of lip gloss, placing it on your dresser and reaching for your phone. Your screen lit up with messages from your group chat, it seemed everyone was already on their way to the club you had decided on. You sent a message letting them know that you and Sanemi would be there probably twenty minutes after them. After a moment a new chat popped up, causing you to laugh out loud. “So if you aren’t here in twenty, you’re getting laid. Gotcha.” You sent back the eye roll emoji before clicking your phone off and shoving it in your purse. “Sanemi? You ready?” You pushed your room door, peeking down the hall to see he was already sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Been ready for twenty…minutes…” he trailed off when you made your way down the hall, the teasing smirk on his face had shifted to one of mild shock. “What? Do I have something in my hair?” You laughed softly, twirling around as if you were pretending to look for something you couldn’t see. “No! No…I uhm…” he stood, hand going to the back of his neck. “No you, you look really good.” The tips of his ears were turning pink, a smirk tugging at your own lips at the sight. “Thank you, you clean up pretty good yourself.” You were a bit shameless as your eyes trialed over him. Sanemi had gone with his typical look. A short sleeve button up, this time made it a silky black material, the top buttons undone to expose his scared chest. He paid it with a pair of black slacks, a monochrome look that contrasted well with his partially slicked back white hair. “Thanks…” he muttered softly, ears turning from pink to red. 

You smile, not wanting to make things awkward for him before you even leave the apartment. “Do you want me to drive?” You were reaching for your keys, jumping slightly when Sanemi’s hand stopped you. “Absolutely not, I’ll drive.” He reached for his own car keys instead, chuckling as you looked confused. “When you’re out with me, you don’t have to worry about anything.” He opened the door for you, “unless you wanna drive.” You smiled as he added that on, shaking your head. “No, I don’t mind if you drive, I appreciate it.” You walked past him and into the hall, trying to hide the fact that you were excited for him to drive you both. You watched him lock the door before heading for the elevator, it was silent until you got to the car, but it was comfortable silence. “Ladies first.” He chuckled softly, pulling the passenger side door open for you. “Oh, why thank you.” You laughed, getting in and smiling as he shut the door for you. What a gentleman. You smiled at the thought. 

“Alright so…” he spoke as he climbed in the drivers side, turning the key so the engine purred with life. “You’ll have to give me directions on how to get there.” He glanced over at you, eyes trailing to your exposed legs before reaching for the gear shift. “Yeah no problem.” You smiled “when we get out of the garage you’ll take a left. Then you’ll get on the highway heading north and I’ll just tell you what exit to take from there.” Sanemi nodded, pulling the car into reverse and backing out of his space. “Sounds good to me.” Music was playing softly from his radio, just enough to fill the car with ambience. “It’ll just be the two of us, three of my friends and then I think one of their boyfriends is also joining. But to be fair, after thirty minutes everyone kinda scatters on the dance floor.” You chuckle a bit. “Usually they drag me with them to find guys to dance with… but since I have you…” you shot him a look, letting those words hang in the air for a moment “I don’t have to worry about them dragging me anywhere.” You smiled, noticing the way his cheeks tinged pink. 

“That’s a relief.” He muttered softly, a smile tugging at his lips while his eyes remained focused on the road. “I won’t be drinking all that much either.” He spoke softly “Since I’m carrying precious cargo, I’ll probably only have a beer or two. My tolerance is pretty high and I nearly got shit faced last night so… I’ll take it easy.” Sanemi chuckled softly, one hand resting on the wheel while the other relaxed against the center console. “Precious cargo, huh? Me? I’m flattered.” You relaxed into the seat, turning to look at Sanemi with a small laugh. “Yeah, you.” He didn’t seem flustered to say that, the smirk on his face making you blush. Your eyes lingered for a moment, watching his tongue dart out to lick his lips. That’s when you noticed something reflective. “Hold the fuck on… is that…” Sanemi glanced over at you, chuckling. “A tongue piercing? You just noticed it? I’ve had it since I moved in with you.” You looked completely flabbergasted, your whole body turning to look at him. 

“No fucking way! Sanemi Shinazugawa you’re lying.” You folded your arms, laughing at the absurdity of it, hoping it hid how excited it made you. Sanemi laughed now, wholeheartedly as he took the exit to get on the highway. “I’m not lying! I got it when I turned nineteen and I’m twenty one now. We’ve been living together for three months and you’ve never noticed I had a tongue piercing?” You were absolutely floored by this revelation. “Never! Then again I’m not usually observing your mouth.” It came out more cheeky than sarcastic, which in turn caused your face to turn warm. “Oh?” His voice seemed to drop an octave. “So you’re observing other parts of me, Hmm?” He was smirking now, eyes glued to the road while you stared at him open mouthed. “Oh you wish!” You laughed, settling back into the seat normally with your arms still crossed. “Sure I do.” His voice was laced with sarcasm, his fingers drummed along to the beat of the music coming from his radio. 

A comfortable silence fell over the car, the club itself was only a twenty minute drive so it wasn’t long before Sanemi was pulling into the already crowded parking lot. “How come I’ve never heard of this place?” Sanemi’s eyes were wide as he observed the people entering the building. “It’s pretty new.” You comment softly, texting your friends that you had arrived and would be inside in a few minutes. “That so?” He shut the car off, turning to look at you. “Yeah, which is a good thing because that means it’s all new shit.” You chuckled, you could recall a few bars and clubs you had gone to in the past that were… questionable to say the least. “I suppose you’re right.” He laughs softly, opening the door to get out. You follow suit, stepping into the cool evening with a sigh of relief. The world around you seemed to buzz with excitement, the pounding music could be heard from the parking lot. As you rounded the car, you noticed Sanemi seemed just a bit overwhelmed. 

“Is this your first time at a club?” You couldn’t help but smile at him. “Sorta? I’m used to bars honestly. I’ve only been to a club like two or three times and they definitely weren’t this… busy.” Seeing the opportunity, you moved forward and hooked your arm with his. “Well then, we’ll just have to make sure you stick close to me, yeah?” Sanemi’s brain short circuited for a moment, nodded as he let you lead him towards the building. He wasn’t quite sure what had rendered him speechless, the words you had spoken, the way you smiled at him, or maybe it was the fact that you were touching him. Better yet, it was likely all of the above. His eyes were glued to you as you walked with him, the angle giving him a perfect view of the swell of your chest. He swallowed, even though his shirt was unbuttoned he still felt suffocated. Sanemi was pulled from his thoughts as you happily waved to your friends. “We figured we’d wait for you since it’s pretty crazy already!” 

Sanemi barely listened, smiling and saying hello when you introduced him. It didn’t really matter to him anymore, not when you were so close to him. All he could think about was you. The feeling of your arm on his, the smell of your perfume, how good you looked. How was he supposed to do anything else when you had him so tightly wrapped around your finger. The thought nearly scared him. He was quiet as you all walked to get in line, his eyes remained glued to you as you chatted excitedly with your three friends and whoever’s boyfriend. You had told him, but he already forgot. “Sanemi?” You glanced up at him, watching as he blinked back into reality. “Huh? Were you talking to me?” You chuckled, noticing your friends smirk as they turned to move up in line. “No, but you were spacing out really bad. Do you get nervous in crowds?” You watched his cheeks turn a shade of pink, had he really spaced out that hard while staring at you? “W-wha.. no, no sorry…” he couldn’t think of an excuse if he tried, so you  hugged his arm a little tighter.

“I promise I won’t leave your side, so you have nothing to worry about.” You turned away before he could see the smirk creeping up your face. Before you knew it, you were being ushered inside of the dark club, the entire place was bathed in changing lights. The music was making the floor vibrate, the dance floor already flooded with people as the DJ played remixes of popular songs. You tugged Sanemi down to your level, yelling slightly “let’s go to the bar!” He nodded, allowing you to guide him through as you trailed behind your friends. He had a feeling this would probably be the last time he saw them for the rest of the night. You were leaning over the counter, yelling to the bartender what you wanted, turning to ask Sanemi what he would like. A moment later you were being handed the drinks, Sanemi pushing past you to place the money on the counter. You handed him his beer, sipping on the cocktail you had ordered for yourself. You grabbed his arm again, tugging him over to a high top table. “Crazy isn’t it?” You yelled across to him, your friends had already disappeared elsewhere. Sanemi nodded, eyes scanning his surroundings. 

“Where did your friends go?” He yelled back to you, not really caring that they had already dissolved somewhere in the crowd. “Probably already on the dance floor! It doesn’t matter though!” You laughed, already feeling a slight buzz from the strong drink, you never really had a tolerance in the first place. “Oh?” He laughed, sipping his beer “why’s that?” He continued, setting the cup down. You lean over, smiling at him “Cause I get to spend more time with you! Get your mind off of your shitty hook up.” You laughed as you straightened again, sipping more of your drink and bouncing gently to the beat of the music. Much to Sanemi’s relief, it was dark enough that you couldn’t see the way his cheeks turned a flaming red. You didn’t want to go anywhere until you finished your drink, there was no fun in dancing and spilling it everywhere. You glanced at Sanemi, noticing the way his eyes seemed to sparkle as he observed his surroundings, it was kind of cute. “I hope you don’t mind dancing!” You yelled to him, downing the rest of the cocktail with a grin. “Dancing? Me?” He still had half of his beer left, but that wasn’t going to stop you. 

“Yeah, you. Don’t tell me you came here just to stand around.” You laughed, setting your empty glass on the table before rounding it to stand next to him. “C’mon! Let loose a little.” Your hand rested on top of his, the one holding his beer cup to be exact. “You’ll have to get a couple drinks in me if you want me to let loose. And that’s not happening.” He smirked at you “Like I said, precious cargo, I need to get your pretty self home nice and safe.” You chose to ignore the pretty comment, despite the fact that it made your heart do backflips. “That’s fine, you’ll just have to get over it then and come out and dance with me sober. Everyone else is already drunk anyways, nobody is going to pay us any mind.” Liar he thought to himself, people were certainly paying you some of their mind. If one more person checked you out he was positive he was going to have a heart attack. “Not happening.” He laughed as you got closer, his heart pounding erratically as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Yeah, sure.” You laughed, taking a step away from him. “If you’re not going to join me, you can just watch.” You turned on your heels, maneuvering through the crowd so you could descend to the dance floor. Sanemi cursed under his breath, downing the rest of his beer and following after you. Cheeky little shit. He could help but smirk, catching up to you within a few strides and grabbing your arm. “What happened to staying close to me?” His voice was against your ear, bodies too close for him to not feel the way you shivered. “Change of heart.” You murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. “Not that it matters now, come dance.” He couldn’t say no to you, not even if he wanted to. You moved through the crowd, closer to the middle so he’d feel a little less awkward. The song began to change as you turned to face him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders so you could lean up and whisper in his ear. “Just do whatever feels right.” He couldn’t resist, his hands finding to it waist as you began swaying to the music. 

With your guidance, he began to move too, pushing past how awkward he felt about it until all he could see was you. He wasn’t even sure how it happened, but four songs had passed and the two of you were still dancing. Your bodies bumped into each other every once in a while because of the amount of people on the floor with you. It was claustrophobic, the amount of sweaty, drunk bodies swaying and grinding to the various beats the DJ played. But at that moment, he couldn’t have cared less. Not when you seemed to be having so much fun, your hands clinging to his shirt to keep him close as you danced. Sanemi let his hands wander, holding your hips just a little tighter, daring to drag you closer to him. You felt him hesitate, as if looking for your approval. You caught on, the slight buzz from your drink giving you enough courage to close the distance for him. You could have melted on the spot, your chest pressing to his due to the extra height from your heels. “Hey…” he uttered softly, just loud enough for you to hear. 

Your faces were inches apart, “… hey” you spoke softly. You were close enough that he could hear it over the music. You stopped swaying, standing completely still as you looked each other in the eye. You knew where it was going, but you wanted him to take the initiative. Sanemi’s eyes darted from yours, eyeing your lips before looking back up at you. Nervously, his tongue poked out to wet his lips, the ball of the tongue piercing glimmered under the strobe lights. There was only one time in his life that he had ever been nervous to kiss someone and it was because it was his very first kiss ever. Then again, he hadn’t really felt much for anyone outside of flings and the rare hook up. You though? You were something different entirely. It petrified him, in every possible way. Standing still on a raving dance floor just so happens to work in his favor. You both let out noises of surprise when someone accidentally bumps into Sanemi’s back, which causes him to fall into you. 

Your noses bump as the guy yelled out a sorry before stumbling further into the crowd. You begin to laugh, adding more distance when all Sanemi wanted was to close it. While you’re distracted, his hands leave your hips to cup your face, holding you in place as he closes the distance. You gasp into the kiss, the grip you had on his shirt tightening as if he’d disappear. Your initial shock disappears after a moment, your lips parting easily for him to enter. It thrills you, feeling Sanemi’s tongue sweep into your mouth, your own tongue dancing around him until you ghost across the metal tongue piercing. You whine, you had somehow already forgotten that crucial piece of information. Sanemi heard you, his hold on your face shifting back down to your hips as he swayed with you to the music again. You were fascinated by the metal, running your tongue along it until you felt the vibrations of Sanemi’s groan. 

You parted, gasping for air as the club around you suddenly felt way too overstimulating. One look told Sanemi everything he needed to know, his hand finding your own to pull you off of the dance floor. Your roles had quickly reversed, instead of you dragging Sanemi around the club, he was dragging you out of it. The cool night air no longer offered you any release, your ears ringing at the immediate volume change. “Sanemi…” he didn’t respond until you were well into the parking lot. “Yeah?” he turned to look at you, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. “Nothing…” You smiled, just wanting to see his face. That one smile nearly made his knees week, his head turning to fumble with his keys. Once the car clicked open, he reached for the back door, making your heart leap into your throat as he made his intentions extremely clear. You felt a wave of heat flood your body, scrambling past him with a chuckle. By the time you threw your purse into the front seat, Sanemi was clambering in behind you and slamming the door shut. 

He was on you again in seconds, the cramped backseat not helping the situation but you would take whatever you could. Your dress rode up as you spread your legs to accommodate Sanemi on top of you, his hand shooting to grab the back of your head before it hit the window. “This isn't ideal.” you laughed, watching a smile tug at his own lips as he moved to kiss you for a second time. “I know it's not ideal…” he pulled away to speak before kissing you a third time “but I need you…so bad.” his voice had dropped to a hush whisper, your body responding immediately to the desperation in his voice. “It’s fine…” you choked out, the arousal throbbing in your gut drowned out any discomfort you felt. You pulled Sanemi to you, trying to shift your body into a laying position to see if it made things a little easier. Sanemi’s lips were on yours for a fourth time, shifting his weight to rely on his elbows as his body pressed tightly to yours. You moaned softly into the kiss, his weight sending waves of arousal straight to your cunt. It took a minute but you were finally able to settle into a somewhat comfortable position. 

Your hands found their way to his hair, ruining his attempt at wrangling the typically untameable strands. He groaned, shivering at the feeling of your hands on him, his own excitement manifesting physically as it brushed along your exposed thigh. “Fuck…” you pulled away, your mind going blank the moment his erection grazed you. Saliva kept your lips connected, breath mingling with one another as you panted. “Sanemi…” You spoke softly, his eyes zeroing in on you and clinging to every word. “Yeah?” he couldn’t think straight, the urge to rip your dress right off of you and fuck you stupid in the back seat of his car was clawing it’s way to the forefront of his mind. “Take me home. Please, if we’re going to do this… I want to do it right. Take me to our home.” He was putty in your hands, heart racing at the use of our. “Of course, fuck of course…” His dick throbbed at the very thought, scrambling to get off of you and get into the front seat. You followed after him, barely bothering to fix your dress as you got into the passenger side. Sanemi turned the keys, the car coming to life a moment later. 

Your thighs were squeezing together as he pulled out of the spot and drove towards the street. “Ah, ah, pretty girl…” Without even looking at you, Sanemi’s hand found your left thigh and forced it away from the other. “You can wait till we’re home.” He glances at you before turning onto the road, your eyes are lidded with need, focusing on the way his scarred hand is squeezing the plush flesh of your thigh. “No fair…” You whined softly, your body aching with need, the feeling of his hand only sending your thoughts into a helpless spiral. Sanemi didn’t break though, as much as he wanted to. He was quickly realizing it pained him to tell you no, regardless of the circumstance. All the while, your eyes were shifting between his hand and his groin. His cock was straining against the material of his pants, the slight clench in his jaw told you he was struggling just as much as you were. “You asked for this.” He murmured softly when he felt your eyes on him still. “Yeah, I know but…” the realization that there was still twenty minutes left in the drive felt like utter torture. “But nothing.” He teased you again. 

“Sanemi…” you tried again, it was a useless battle, especially since you were the one who told him you wanted to go home. “You can survive, c’mon now, you can’t be that needy for me already.” His tone was low, dripping with sarcasm. It made your face feel warm, squirming in your seat as you crossed your arms. “Me? Needy? Look at you.” You tried to give him the same attitude but you couldn’t muster the courage. With the information you knew, you could certainly rile him up. But you decided to save that revelation for later. “Look at me? I don’t need to self reflect to know how badly I want you.” He squeezed your thigh to drive his point home, smirking as you gasped and tensed at the feeling. You felt small in comparison, as if nothing you said would make him break. So you let him tease you, his hand massaging your thigh until you could feel your arousal dampening your underwear. How embarrassing. You held back a groan, hand itching to return the favor. As you came to a red light, waiting to take the exit for the highway, your hand crept over. 

You placed your hand over the prominent bulge in his pants, holding your breath as Sanemi inhaled sharply. “So that’s how you’re gonna be, Hmm?” He hummed softly, his hand leaving your thigh to undo his pants. “By all means, have fun.” You swallowed, seeing the opportunity he was allowing you and taking it. You fished him out of his pants, holding back a groan as his cock sprang forward. “Fuck…” you nearly choked on your own saliva as you looked at the size of him. The red light was filling the car with a dim glow, along you to see the shine already coating his tip. “Sanemi… I just want to make sure.” You stared at him, adjusting yourself in your seat. “Make sure of what?” He seemed nonchalant but you could see the way his jaw was tensing, eyes training on the traffic light and practically begging it to go. “That if I do this, you won’t crash the car.” You teased him a bit, but it was also a genuine question. Sanemi smiled at that, throat bobbing as he swallowed before stealing a glance. “I’ll be fine.” That quick look sent your heart into a flurry, the light switching from red to green as if giving you the go ahead. 

Sanemi’s foot hit the gas a little harder than necessary, shooting forward and knocking you back a bit. “Yeah…” you mumbled under your breath, readjusting in your seat “you’ll be fine.” You mimicked him, nearly turning completely sideways in the passenger side seat. “I promise, if it’s too much I’ll tell you to stop.” There was pink coating his cheeks, the one hand he had on the wheel was clutching it so tightly his knuckles were turning white. “Yeah, whatever you say…” You laughed, leaning over to tentatively wrap your hand around the middle of his shaft. You didn’t believe one word he said, especially with the way he inhaled as your hand did nothing more than wrap around him. “I’ll take it easy on you.” You leaned forward, unable to see the way Sanemi’s eyes widened when he realized what you were doing. He had assumed it would be nothing more than a handjob to tease him until the two of you arrived home. He felt his heart leap into his throat as your head lowered to his lap. “Oh fuck…” he swallowed, eyes flickering down to you before refocusing on the road. Your tongue glided along the head of his cock, a small moan escaping your lips as Sanemi’s other hand settled on top of your head. 

You felt the car slow for a second time as Sanemi rolled up to a second traffic light. You took the opportunity to lower your head further, taking in more of his cock. “Shit…” he hissed, eyes trained on the back of your head as you lavished him with your tongue. The light was quicker than he had wanted it to be, once again he stepped on the gas, holding his breath as he took the exit to get on the highway. You steadied yourself, the position a bit uncomfortable considering you were leaning over the center console to suck him off. You dared to go lower, taking in half of him before pulling back up. It took you a minute but you found a rhythm that felt good for you, listening intently to his quiet gasps over the sound of the wind hitting the car. You couldn’t see it, but Sanemi was pushing eighty-five miles an hour as he flew down the highway. His brain was going just as fast as the car, unable to process the reality that you were going down on him. Never mind the fact that you were doing it as he drove. Your tongue continued to lick along the head of his cock, pulling way to lick further down his shaft before returning to the top. 

Carefully you pulled away all together, leaving him gasping as you settled back into your seat. “You didn’t think I was going to be that generous right?” you smirked at him, wiping the saliva from your lips as you did. Sanemi was a bit stunned, though he shouldn’t have expected anything less. Laughter bubbled in his throat, his free hand haphazardly tucking his still hard cock away. “No, I actually didn't. Though that just means I need to make things even.” His hand returned to your thigh, kneading the flesh as he continued to floor it down the highway. You swallowed, thighs parting a little further as you counted down the seconds until you were home. The alcohol was still lingering in your system, your nerves seemingly set on fire as your body ached for him. You wanted to give him more, you couldn’t wait to give him more. So far, your roommate was surpassing your expectations. Not when your wildest wet dream could compare to the things you were feeling now. Sanemi himself was nothing like the Sanemi you fantasized about, he was far better. That realization had you squirming in your seat, the silver ball tongue piercing lingering in your mind as you thought about what it would feel like. 

“I have to ask…” you sighed softly, you were maybe ten minutes away now. Sanemi glanced at you quickly before looking at the road again, he said nothing, waiting for you to continue. “Does the tongue piercing make you better at giving head?” You laughed a bit but the question was serious. Sanemi smiled, a look of pure cockiness on his face. “So I’ve been told, I’ve even considered buying one of those stupid vibrating tongue piercings but I haven’t really had a reason to do so.” His cock was throbbing as he spoke, he certainly had a reason now to buy such a lewd item. The very thought of using a vibrating tongue ring on you had precum dampen his briefs. “You’ll have to show me your skills, maybe you’ll have to eat me out twice to show me the difference with and without.” You usually would have choked on your words saying something like that, but the way Sanemi’s lips parted in surprise made you glad you said it. “So you want me to go down on you? Why don’t you amuse me and tell me all the things you want your beloved roommate to do to you, hmm?” You felt your face grow warm, the grip he had on your thigh grew tight. 

“Well, for starters, I would love for my beloved roommate to go down on me.” You sighed, still thinking about what it would be like. “I would also love for my roommate to fuck me stupid, specifically in his bed.” You felt no shame or embarrassment confessing what you wanted, the way Sanemi’s nails dug into your flesh told you he enjoyed every word you spoke. “Specifically my bed? Why is that?” He wasn’t sure why that stirred something in him, he already had every intention of taking you to his room when you finally got back. But hearing you utter those words had him feeling possessive. “I don’t really know…just like the idea. Your bed always looked comfy to me, and your room always smells nice.” What you wanted to say is that it smelt like him. His grip on your thigh had loosened just a bit when he figured he was leaving nail indents in your skin. Instead, Sanemi moved to massage the flesh as he took the exit off of the highway. You were nearly home, his mind was practically turning to mush as the anticipation grew even heavier. “What else?” 

His voice was growing hoarse, he had never wanted to fuck someone as badly as he wanted to fuck you in that very moment. “I want to finish what I started of course.” You glanced at him and then down to his lap, a smile on your lips as he inhaled deeply. “Yeah? Sounds like we’re going to have a long night.” You sighed, fidgeting a bit as your apartment building finally came in view. “We better, I got all dressed up just for you to drag me out of the club.” You laughed as he turned to look at you, the look was of pure disbelief. “By all means I can take you back.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, he wouldn’t let you go out of arm's reach at this point. “No way, I’d kick your ass.” Your hand shot down to grab his wrist, gently pulling him off your thigh. You could see his visible confusion as he watched the road, unsure of what you were doing. Slowly, you intertwined your fingers with his, smiling at the fact that he let you do it so easily. You brought his hand upwards, gently placing a kiss to the back of it. Sanemi inhaled, eyes itching to look at you but he needed to focus as he turned into the parking garage. 

You continued to place kisses on his scarred hand, kissing your way over his knuckles and up each finger. You watched as Sanemi pulled into the garage, mildly impressed that he was able to take the sharp turns with only one hand on the wheel. Your body felt as if it had been shocked with electricity as he pulled into his assigned space. You let go of his hand even though you didn’t want to, opening the car door to get out before he had even turned the vehicle off. You were too eager to speak, marching your way towards the elevator as Sanemi scrambled to follow you. “Excited?” He laughed, as if he wasn’t chasing after you with long strides. “Of course I am.” You shot him a wink as you hit the button, the elevator doors opening slowly. Once you both stepped in, all bets were off. You gasped as his hands found your waist again, pulling you to his chest so he could crush his lips against yours. “The camera…” you pulled away as you began to ascend, Sanemi couldn’t care less that this would be caught on surveillance. So he kissed you again, making his point clear as you gave in and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

It wasn’t long before the doors opened and you had to part again reluctantly, this time Sanemi was grabbing your hand and tugging you down the hall. His free hand was fumbling with his pocket, pulling out his keeps as you reached the door. You watched the key slot into the lock with bated breath, your knees nearly giving out as the door swung open and you both stumbled inside. You didn’t get a chance to properly shut the door, Sanemi was pressing you against it and effectively slamming it shut in the process. You didn’t get a chance to complain either because Sanemi was nearly suffocating you as his lips crashed to yours again. This time it was fully unrestrained, his hands pushing your dress upwards while your hands tugged at his top. The kiss turned into a messy clash of teeth and tongue until he was pulled away to bury his face in your neck instead. You gasped, the sensation of his teeth grazing your skin making you shiver as his hands trailed up your side to start tugging your dress down from the top instead. “You’re going to destroy my d-dress…” You choked as his teeth sunk into your skin. 

He only groaned in response, tongue licking along the teeth indents he had left behind. “Yeah whatever, I’ll buy you a new one.” He seemed fully unbothered, head dipping low again to suck along your jaw. Your heart was beating in your throat, hands finding their home in the hair you disturbed earlier when kissing him. “S-shit…” You sighed as Sanemi’s tongue licked along your jaw before returning to your neck. His hand gripped the top of your dress again, yanking it down harshly until you heard the zipper tear. “Sanemi!” you didn’t quite care at that moment but you knew it would bother you in the morning. “I said I’d buy you another one. Fuck I’ll buy you as many dresses as you want if it means I can tear them off of you.” He returned to leaving hickeys on your neck, not stopping until purple bruises littered your skin. You squealed as your dress was pushed down further, your breasts finally freed from their confines. Sanemi took a second to admire before attaching his lips to your nipple. A loud moan escaped you, eyes wide as you felt him suck and lick the sensitive skin. The moment the ball of his tongue piercing glided along your breast you knew you were done for, your eyes nearly rolling back as your mind went wild. 

He continued to run his tongue along your skin, flicking your nipple strategically with his tongue piercing every few goes. You could feel your knees going weak, you couldn’t support your body weight much longer if he was going to tease you like this. Sanemi seemed to realize, pulling away from your breast with a soft pop, a string of saliva keeping his mouth and your breast connected. He said nothing, rather he smirked at you, reaching down to hook his arm around your waist and haul you up and over his shoulder. “Sanemi!” you practically shrieked, you knew he was strong but you didn’t think he was that strong. You could feel his laughter, his shoulder digging into your stomach as his free hand came up to land a swift smack on your dress-clad ass. A string of profanities left your lips as Sanemi pushed his room door open, your ass cheek was stinging from the impact of his spank. “Colorful words you got there.” He snorted as he dropped you onto his bed, watching you bounce a little before settling. “Oh whatever.” your face was warm, eyes struggling to meet his. Sanemi’s head tilted, admiring how you looked. Half naked, breasts exposed and wet with his saliva. Pretty bruises littering your neck, your lips swollen from his kisses, your hair tousled from all the movement. To him, you had never looked better. 

Sanemi sighed, undoing the rest of the buttons that you had nearly ripped off, tossing the shirt to the ground and smiling as it caught your attention. “So…” he began, taking a step towards the side of his bed before leaning forward. He braced his arms on either side of your hips, the mattress dipping further under his added weight. “What do you want first? Continue where we left off… or let me get a taste…” His forehead was nearly touching yours, breath mingling as he waited for your response. “It’s your turn…” You spread your thighs a little further, hand reaching for his shoulder as you motioned for him to get on his knees before you. Sanemi huffed out a laugh “it’s hard for me to say no when you look at me like that.” His knees hit the ground with a soft thump, his hands sliding up your thighs and forcing a shiver out of you. “Do I have your permission to take this dress off of you?” His head tilts, waiting for your answer. “A-absolutely you do…”  you lifted your hips, helping him tug the material off you and drop it off to the side. Sanemi took a minute, drinking in the sight of your bare skin. He was staring at you as if he was trying to memorize every inch of your skin. “So…” your voice was soft, anticipation killing you. 

“Sorry.” his face turned red, his hands grabbing for the waistband of your panties. “You’re so beautiful.” He couldn’t look at you as he said it, if he did he was convinced his heart would implode on the spot. “So are you.” You lifted your hips for him a second time, allowing him to take the last piece of clothing you had on, off of you. “Don’t flatter me.” his tone was teasing, eyes taking on a different look as your cunt was exposed to him. No further words were spoken as Sanemi coaxed your legs open further. You braced yourself on your elbows, legs dangling off the side of the bed as Sanemi slowly moved to kiss your thighs. The shine from his tongue piercing glimmered in the moonlight leaking through his window, sending shockwaves of arousal through you as his hands moved to hold your hips. His hair tickled your thigh as he licked fat stripes up your skin, avoiding the place you wanted him most just to tease you a little further. You watched him with bated breath, whining softly as his breath fanned over you before pulling away. “Sanemi… please.” You had waited far too long for him to tease you like this. Sanemi huffed out another laugh, the persistent twitch in his pants was making him impatient as well. 

He stopped teasing you, his hands finding their way to your thighs again as he lowered his head. Your body tensed as the flat of his tongue licked along your folds. The metal ball of his tongue piercing was more prominent than you thought it would be, even though it was as warm as the rest of him, you felt it. “Oh…” you gasped, head falling backwards. You were torn between keeping yourself propped up so you could watch and just laying back to enjoy it. Sanemi’s tongue continued to lap at your cunt, purposely avoiding the place you wanted him the absolute most. “Sanemi please…” You were aching for him to pay attention to your clit, but the small smirk that tugged on his lips as he nipped at your inner thigh told you this was payback. “Sanemi please! I said I would finish what I started in the car… stop teasing me…” Your hips wiggled, thrusting upwards as if you could force him to eat you out the way you wanted. One movement and he had stilled you completely, his hand splaying across your abdomen and pushing you back to the mattress. “Relax.” His tone held authority, making you feel rather pathetic for squirming in the first place. “Sorry…” you settled again, eyes struggling to hold contact with him. “Good girl.” 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, Sanemi’s head dipping down again to eat you out with a little more fervor. He ran the ball of his tongue piercing along your lips, leaving a shining trail of saliva in its wake. A quiet whine slipped past your lips, hand fisting in his comforter as you tried not to seem too impatient. He caught on of course, finding it impossible to hold off any longer. As much as he wanted to take his time, he was far too excited to keep holding off. A loud gasp slipped past your lips as his tongue flicked across your clit, the metal ball hitting it the second time. “Oh fuck…” The feeling of his tongue piercing very different, each pass over your clit made your thighs tense. Sanemi’s mouth moved to wrap around the pulsing nerve, sucking harshly while swiping his tongue repeatedly. The motion had your arms giving out, falling flat on the bed as you moaned completely unrestrained. Sanemi continued, one hand still pressing down on your abdomen as he used the other to place one leg over his shoulder. He quickly switched, placing his other hand on your abdomen so he could grab your other leg and throw it over his shoulder as well.

 This way, you couldn’t close your legs if you wanted to and now he had the ability to do what he did next. Your entire body tensed as two fingers slipped inside of your already wet cunt, curling perfectly before uncurling again to thrust sloppily. “S-sanemi!” You choked out his name, the sudden intensity making your eyes water as he fucked you with his fingers and tongue. As quickly as he gave in, he stopped, pulling away just enough to gasp for air. You whined, glancing down at him to see his lips and chin covered in a mixture of saliva and your arousal. “Sanemi.” All you could utter was his name at this point, no other words would come to mind unless it was to beg him to keep going. “You didn’t think I was going to be that generous, did you?” He used your own line against you, smirking as your head fell back with a groan. “L-let me make it up to you. I-I’ll finish what I started but you have to do the same.” Your previous confidence had flown out the window, your mind too cloudy to think of anything else but his tongue. “Oh, I see what you mean.” Sanemi’s hand left your cunt, moving to hold your legs and caress them softly. “How about this?” He moved your legs off of his shoulders, the position itself had made your stomach do backflips so you were a bit sad it was already over. 

You watched him straighten, standing at his full height so he could take off his pants and boxers. “Sit up, move further in.” he motioned for you to move towards the center of his bed, your heart rate spiking significantly when you realized he really had caught on to what you were implying. Within seconds, Sanemi was as bare as you, giving you a moment to admire him in his entirety before he crawled onto the bed with you. You couldn’t help yourself as you leaned over to kiss him, shivering as his hands found your hips and held you as he lowered himself into a lying position. You pulled away, lips slick with saliva as you looked down on him. “I think you know what to do… or do you want me to explain.” The look in his eyes was a teasing one, tongue sliding out to lick your saliva from his lips. “I got it.” You rolled your eyes, turning away before he saw you smile. “Alright then, show me.” It was a little awkward at first but you positioned yourself with your thighs on either side of his head, your cunt hovering just inches above your face. “Let me know when.” your voice was hoarse, Sanemi’s hands found their way to your hips again and pulled you down. You squealed as he forced nearly all of your weight on his face, until it felt like you would suffocate him. 

“A-are you sure that's not too much?” You moaned as his tongue immediately found its way to your entrance, taking that as a yes, you leaned forward to wrap your hand around his aching cock. You gave him a few deliberately slow pumps before lowering your mouth. Your lips suctioned around his tip for the second time that night, tongue lapping at the bitter precum still oozing from him. You could feel him pulsate as you used one hand to stroke what your mouth couldn’t fit, drool seeping down his length to act as lube. You took a chance, your free hand coming down to hold his balls. The reaction you got was a loud groan vibrating your cunt, Sanemi’s tongue working even harder as your orgasm suddenly began to build in your gut. You massaged him gently, tongue licking up the underside of his shaft while you shamelessly fondled his balls. The intensity building in your gut was enough to have your hips jerking away from Sanemi’s face, tears pricking your eyes as you tried to take even more of his length. A loud yelp left you as Sanemi’s hands found your hips and forced them right back down on his face. The ball of his tongue piercing slid across your clit again before dipping into your entrance. You nearly pulled off of him, fully overwhelmed by pleasure, but you managed to stop yourself. 

You continued to pump what you couldn’t fit, head bobbing in rhythm with your fist. Groans continued to vibrate your cunt, your hand still massaging the sensitive flesh. You never really knew what to do with them, but the way Sanemi was groaning told you that you were doing something right. The grip Sanemi had on your hips tightened significantly, his cock pulsating against your tongue. Strangled noises left your lips as your orgasm continued to build, the way his balls tightened in your grasp told you he was going to reach his climax at any second. You squirmed, your pace growing erratic as your hips grind down on Sanemi’s face. He encourages you, hand pushing and pulling your hips at a faster pace, finding the way your cunt ground on his tongue to be utterly exhilarating. Before you could process it, your hips were stuttering to a halt, your eyes watering as your orgasm snuck up on you. You spilled all over his tongue, a gush of warmth making your face turn hot as you struggled to continue sucking him off. Luckily for you, coming on his face was enough to send Sanemi over the edge as well, groaning loudly as he spilled into your mouth. You swallowed what you could, the rest dribbling down your chin as you rolled off of him and to the mattress below. 

You were gasping for breath, staring at the ceiling as you blinked stars from your vision. You didn’t get a chance to say anything before Sanemi was sitting up and maneuvering himself to hover over you. “I’m not done with you yet.” He looked unbearably good with his hair a mess, lips swollen and shining, his pupils dilated. You reached for his face, pulling him down to crash your lips together in a sloppy kiss. His hands roamed your body, one of them moving to slip between your thighs and finger your already sensitive cunt. “F-fuck…” you pulled away, only given a second to breath before his lips were on you again. The kiss tasted of arousal, your own mixing with his, it was almost intoxicating. Paired with the way Sanemi’s fingers curled inside of you, the remnants of your first orgasm prickled in your gut. You whined into the kiss, nails dragging along his shoulders as soft squelches filled the room. “You’re so fucking beautful.” Sanemi is heaving as he parts from you, he looks completely fucked out as he looks down to watch his fingers disappear and reapper from your greedy cunt. “You can take it, right? You still got some energy, yeah?” his cock was still achingly hard. 

“Y-yeah…fuck…please just… don’t make me wait any longer, Sanemi…” He kissed you again, this time it was full of passion as he moved to crawl over you rather than lay beside you. He pulled away, looking down at you with parted lips before realizing something. “Wait, fuck we need a condom.” As he began to get off of you, your hand shot forward to stop him.”n-no we don’t… we don’t need it.” Your hands shook as you held onto his bicep, your eyes pleading with him. “We don’t need it?” He questioned, a bit shocked at what you were saying. “No…I’m clean.” You seemed to be ignoring the fact that he could easily get you pregnant. “So am I… I’ve only ever used condoms and…” he didn’t even get to fuck the girl from the night before so there was really no risk of fucking you raw. Maybe it was the lust fogging his mind and ruining his judgment, or maybe it was the sheer thrill of getting to feel you for the first time completely bare, but he agreed, choosing to forgo the condom and crawl back over you. “Are you sure?” his tone was hushed, one hand bracing himself while the other moved down to grab himself. You nodded, moving your legs to wrap around his waist so he could position himself. “Positive…just come on… Sanemi I need you, so bad.” He was a goner the moment you said that, any hesitation fleeing his body as you begged him. “Okay…okay…” he hushed you, leaning down to kiss you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as you felt the dull head of his cock drag up and down your folds. You fumbled around a bit each time the metal ball of his piercing grazed your tongue, your hips jerking upwards to try and move him along. He was still teasing you, despite his own desperation to be inside of you. You pulled away, eyes closing as Sanemi’s tongue ran along your jaw. “Sa..Sanemi please…” you moaned at the pressure of his cock head pressing to your entrance. “Okay… okay… so impatient baby just relax…” You shivered at the nickname, something so simple made your body feel like it had been jolted with electricity. After another minute of your breathy whines, Sanemi gave in, steadying himself as he pressed his hips further into you. You both let out shaky gasps as his head pushed in, your walls immediately suctioning to the intrusion yet welcoming him at the same time. You watched Sanemi’s head look down, his hair tickling your face as he watched himself disappear inside of you inch by inch. “S-sanemi…” you choked out again, his head moving to look up at you with blown out pupils. “Yeah?” hoarse and desperate, he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of you looking at him like that. “Faster, please…” he hadn’t even bottomed out yet, a smile tugged at his lips. “God you’re so desperate, you want me so bad that it’s still not enough even when you have me.” You nodded, hands clinging to shoulders as you looked up at him. “I can’t argue with that…'' you whined as his hips met yours, his cock fully sheathed inside of your cunt. You clenched involuntarily, watching the smug smirk on his face disappear as a low moan slipped past his lips. You both stayed still, trying to adjust to the feeling of him inside of you. “You're j-just as bad.” you choked out, hips growing restless as you waited for him to gain his composure and move. The hand Sanemi had used to guide himself in was now moving to grab the back of your leg. You watched him curiously, letting him move your body into whatever position he pleased. A whine slipped past your lips as he shifted his weight into his knees, the movement pulling him out a bit before quickly pushing back. He was silent, forehead creased in concentration as he got both of your legs up over his shoulders. Sanemi inhaled deeply “This okay?” You nodded quickly, your body aching for some sort of relief as he purposely kept himself buried in you. “Y-yeah but you’re driving me insane… Sanemi please move…” Tears pricked your eyes, moaning loudly as his hips drew back half way before slamming back in. 

Sanemi’s eyes squeezed shut, groaning as his cock dragged along your walls. It took a few thrusts but Sanemi found his rhythm, your moans encouraging him, pairing well with the sound of your skin slapping together each time he buried himself balls deep. Your entire body jiggled with the force of his thrusts, your head tilting back as he fucked you in earnest, babbling sweet praises to you each time his hips drew back. You couldn’t catch your breath, each thrust dragged across a particular spot, one that had you seeing stars. Your vision blurry as tears leaked down your cheeks, the pressure in your gut building but not enough to make you cum. Your hand shakily tried to move down, aiming to rub your clit and bring you to your climax but Sanemi stopped you. “N-not until I say so…” he huffed out, sweat dripping down his temple as he pressed your legs further against your chest with his body. “I’ll tell you w-when…” he groaned, your walls clamping down around him as you sobbed. He would be concerned if it weren’t for the guttural moans falling out of you with each drag of his cock, you were nearly fucked stupid at this point and he was enjoying every second of it. “You-You’re so fucking hot…” he grounded out, the throb in his dick only increased with each thrust, he needed to make sure he pulled out but the way your pussy clung to him was almost too much to fight against. 

You responded with incoherent babbling, profanities and his name were the only intelligible words he could make out every so often. Sanemi switched his pace, rolling into you slowly until you were gasping for air, “S-Sanemi!” your hands gripped his shoulders, looking up at him with wide and desperate eyes. “Hmm?” he smirked down at you, each roll of his hips had him bumping your clit. “F-fuck…” he adored teasing you, the way your nails raked his skin as he tried to calm himself down. It was the only reason he changed his pace, he didn’t want this to end just yet, edging himself and you until he was absolutely desperate. “Yeah? Tell me how good I am, tell me how good I am at fucking you.” You choked, throat feeling dry as your restless hips tried to speed up his movements. “I don’t think so, pretty girl.” Sanemi drew out of you all together, ignoring your pleading as he moved to place both of your legs on one shoulder. He hugged them together with one arm, effectively immobilizing your restless body. “I’m not giving you what you want until you tell me…” He cooed softly, hand reaching down to wipe the tears leaking down your cheeks. You caught your breath, your cunt throbbing from the lack of contact when you had been so close to coming again. 

“You’re so mean…” You hiccuped, acting as if he hadn’t given you everything you had wanted thus far. “Mean? Me?” he cooed softly, leaning over you a bit. “I’m sorry baby, but I’m not doing anything until you tell me how good I’m doing.” he repeated, tongue sticking out a bit as he smiled, biting down softly so you could see the underside of the tongue piercing. “Y-You’re doing good…” you whined, hands fidgeting as you couldn’t figure out where to place them. “Mmm? You can do better than that, tell me in detail.” The tip of his cock dragged along your folds, further driving you towards insanity at his sudden need to edge you. You squirmed, mouth feeling dry as you tried to conjure up a response that would please him. Your brain felt like mush though, face flooding with heat as you began to speak. Y-you’re fucking me so good, b-best I’ve ever had…” Sanemi smirked, his fingers thrumming along your calf. “Keep going, I know you have more to say.” His free hand was still dragging his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick heat. “Sanemi… come on…” you whined, chest rising and falling rapidly each time he passed over your clit. You were sensitive enough that you were convinced you could cum just from that. 

“Ah Ah, Sanemi nothing. Tell me how good my cock feels, my tongue, my fingers. I know you have a lot to say, you’re just being stubborn.” His eyes scanned over your face, the urge to kiss you was clawing at the back of his mind but the position didn’t allow him any room for that kind of movement. “Fuck! Y-you’re gonna make me cum if you…” Sanemi’s ears perked up, a smirk tugging at his lips as he continued to drag himself along your pussy. “Yeah? You’re gonna cum again just from this? All the more reason to tell me, baby.” You felt like you couldn’t breath, your orgasm building and tingling in your gut as you struggled to form coherent thoughts. “...ood…good… so fucking good your tongue is amazing. A-and your cock is-is better than I ever imagined it would be… so much better…” That caught his attention, swallowing thickly as he asked you to clarify. “Than you ever imagined? So… you’ve imagined me fucking you before?” He seemed to turn breathless, mouth hanging open just a bit as he watched your face contort. You were going to cum just from this, it was driving him wild. “Y-yes! Fuck I imagined you fucking me stupid all the t-time…” your hands fisted the sheets below you, pulling them taught as your walls clenched around nothing at all. “More…tell me more…” he needed to hear it. 

“O-oh fuck…” you were nearly there. “Those mornings… fuck those mornings where i’d find you in the kitchen sh-shirtless… you fucking tease…” Your head fell back, gasping for air before you continued. “A-all I could think about was y-you bending me over the fucking counter and fucking me stupid…” Your orgasm was within reach, each sinful drag of his cock over your pulsating clit had you seeing stars. Your words seemed to do something to him, a loud moan ripping from your throat as he plunged back inside of you. Your orgasm rippled through you, walls twitching around him as you pathetically gripped him like a vice. It fizzled out far too soon, the lack of contact with your clit ending it almost prematurely. That didn’t stop the pleasure coursing through your body as Sanemi started right out of the gate with a brutal pace. “S_san-emi…” You wailed, nearly ripping his sheets as you tried to find some sort of stable grounding. “P-perfect… you’re so fucking perfect… with such a filthy fucking mind… Do you know how many times I got off thinking about you? Your beloved roommate is a perv…” he huffed out a laugh, looking at you with lidded eyes. “But it looks like my beloved roommate is just… as bad…” he groaned. 

You wailed, eyes squeezing shut as his hips continued to ram his cock into you. His words did nothing but encourage your pleasure, the mild overstimulation had melted into pleasure. You could barely think straight but that didn’t stop you from feeling the persistent twitch of his cock, he was going to cum soon. You clenched around him, trying to tease him back and push him towards the edge, sweat dripped down his temple as he looked at you. “Naughty girl… you want me…my cum hmm?” his voice was hoarse, the strength in his teasing was dying out as his own release built. You nodded shamelessly, “p-please Sanemi…Nemi please…” The quiet nickname nearly did him in, hips stuttering for a moment before he found his pace again. “You want my cum? You want me to fill you up? Stuff you full…” the desire to spill inside of you was all too tempting, regardless of the potential consequences for doing so. He wouldn’t let himself get caught up in that daydream just yet, not when you were so pliant, not when you were so easily letting him have you however he pleased. His grip on your legs tightened, keeping you positioned with them both over one of his shoulders. This angle allowed him to watch the way your thigh and ass jiggled with the impact of each thrust. 

“Y-yes…yes…fuck… please.” you babbled out, drool nearly slipping past the corner of your lip. Sanemi knew he was done for, the way you were looking at him was enough to make him melt. He’d never be able to deny you of anything you wanted, especially when you were looking at him like that. Caught up in his own emotions, his hips stuttered into a halt as his orgasm ripped through him. He moaned, completely unrestrained as his head fell forward with his eyes squeezed shut. His release spurted into you, making you whine as he pathetically thrusted into you with a shaky roll of his hips. The room fell silent, nothing but his panting mixed with your own, filling the quiet space. It took a few moments before either of you were ready to speak, your body feeling a bit sore. “Fuck…” Sanemi huffed out a breathless laugh, pulling out of you slowly. He watched for a moment as his cum leaked out of your abused entrance. He had to force himself to look away, setting your legs down gently. “Fuck.” you repeated him, a lazy grin on your face as you stretched, grimacing just a bit as you felt his release smear on your thighs. 

Sanemi fell backwards, sprawling out on his mattress with one of his pillows beneath his head. You sat up, eyes shamelessly roaming over him and the content smile on his face. You thought about it for a moment before crawling over him. Sanemi watched you with an amused stare, your weight settling on him perfectly. Your thighs rested on either side of his hips, knees making the mattress dip as you laid forward and squished your chest to his. Your hands came up to hold his jaw, lazily kissing along his sweaty skin. Sanemi let you do as you pleased, hands coming down to hold your waist as you showered him in affection. “I meant every word I…tried to say.” you laughed softly, kissing his neck one last time before looking at him. “Mmm, I’m glad… I meant every word I said too, you know.” one hand left your waist to push your hair out of the way, the hair he had messed up while fucking you. It gave him satisfaction for some reason. You smiled, hands trialing from his face to his chest as you carefully pushed yourself into a sitting position. “Do you trust me, Sanemi?” That question had him looking at you with hesitation. 

“Well, let’s see. You convinced me to fuck you with no condom, and you convinced me to creampie you…” he laughed as you playfully hit his chest. “I also live with you, I don’t lock my door at night…so I think…” he trailed off, fingers dancing along the skin on your thighs as he held you. “... I think it’s safe to say I do, in fact, trust you.” You laughed, rolling your eyes a bit “You’re such a drama queen.” Sanemi smiled up at you, the moonlight hitting you perfectly. Your smile seemed to shine, making his heart flutter. “Maybe I am, but I gave you my answer. It’s only right if you tell me why you asked.” Your fingers traced shapes on his chest as you looked at him through your lashes. “Well… I’m in the mood for more.”  You started tentatively, gauging his reaction as you spoke. You nearly shivered at the way his eyes changed, quickly adapting a more sultry look. “That so? You’re still hungry for more?” his heart could explode on the spot, his dick immediately twitching to life again. “Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get enough of you.” That statement alone had Sanemi’s cheeks turning a shade of red. “I can easily say the same.” You laugh softly, feeling him twitch against the swell of your ass. 

Your fingers continued to trace shapes along his chest, trailing down to his stomach and back up again. You counted the scars as you went, toned muscle flexing as you seemed to hit a ticklish spot. You kept him waiting, his hands holding your hips tightly as he waited for you to do something. “This is going to be my payback, isn’t it.” He laughed softly as you smiled, looking up at him with a mischievous look in your eyes. “Of course it is… you’ll comply, right?” of course he would, you could ask him to run naked through the street right now and he’d likely do it just to see you smile. “Kiss me.” it came out as a whisper, the look in his eyes pleading you to do it. You melted, leaning forward to kiss him slowly. It was different from any kiss you had shared that night, it was soft and sensual, as if you would devour the other whole. You began to laugh as the ball of his tongue ring clinked against your tooth. Sanemi erupted into a fit of giggles, the sound vibrating his chest. “That’s the first time that's ever happened.” You smiled, placing a chaste kiss on his lips before speaking. “Oh? Glad I could be your first something.” Sanemi’s head tilted against the pillow, “You’ve been a couple of firsts for me already.” he teased with a gentle grin. 

That piqued your interest, pushing up gently until you were sitting again. His cock was still standing proudly, twitching slightly against your ass. “Please indulge me.” Sanemi laughed, hands sliding up and down your thighs slowly. “You’re the first person to make me dance at a club, the first person to give me road head, the first girl I ever fucked raw and came in…” he laughed as you slapped his chest again “You asked!” he squeezed your thighs a bit, eyes lighting up as you laughed with him. You leaned forward again, kissing him deeply for the umpteenth time. This time it was a little different, one of your hands planted firmly to Sanemi’s chest as you used the other to reach behind and grab him. He gasped into the kiss, allowing you to swallow it whole as you positioned him right at your entrance. You settled back slowly, engulfing him in wet heat. You felt different to him this time, your arousal mixed with his cum making you feel even wetter than before. His nails raked your thighs as you sat down fully, chest heaving as you adjusted to him being inside of you again. You both stared at each other in silence, your hips rolling slowly. You indulge yourself for a minute, squirming as your clit dragged along his pubic bone with each slow roll of your hips. Sanemi watched you, completely entranced by your body.

“This time around…” you stopped rolling your hips, hands splaying across his abdomen as you gauged how much you could move. “...you’re going to tell me how good I’m fucking you.” with your knees digging into the mattress, you could lift your hips about half way before dropping them down again. You were satisfied with that for the time being, smiling sweetly at Sanemi as you tried to find your rhythm. He watched you closely, mouth parted slightly as you began to properly bounce on him. You couldn’t help but feel warm as his eyes shamelessly drank in the sight of your body, eyes glued to the way your breasts bounced with each drop, the way his cock disappeared and reappeared between your thighs. He wasn’t used to being at someone’s mercy, but he rather enjoyed watching you have your fun. You continued to bounce, leaning forward a bit to dip your head down and lick up his stomach. A strangled noise slipped past Sanemi’s lips as your tongue ran up his abs and towards his chest. Nobody had ever done that to him before, the look alone was enough to make his head spin. You didn’t stop there, licking your way to his chest and gliding your tongue over one nipple. All the while, your hips were still moving up and down his length. You trailed your tongue over his nipple again, enjoying the way his grip on you tightened, a shaky breath escaping him. You wanted to hear more.

You looked up at him, your lashes making your view a little blurry. But it was still enough for you to enjoy the steadily growing flush on Sanemi’s face, the way it crept up to his ears and down to his chest, not quite reaching where your tongue was circling. You could feel his heart pounding under your hand, lips suctioning to his nipple and sucking gently. Another strangled noise escaped him, a mix between a moan and a whine, it only made him flush further. Still, you ached to hear more. Your hips had grown a bit restless, your mind focused on his chest more than the drive of your hips. You tried to recenter, hips moving rhythmically again as you bit down on his nipple. Sanemi cried out, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure mixed with embarrassment. You were going to drive him crazy, the feeling of your lips suctioned to his chest had his heart nearly vibrating with the intensity it was beating. You pulled your lips away, suppressing a moan as you settled fully on him again. “So…” your fingers trialed over his nipple, slick with your saliva, you felt the urge to bite him harder. “So…” Sanemi choked out, a bit dazed by your actions. “How am I doing so far?” At this point you were cockwarming him instead of riding him, just enough to edge him but not enough for him to come. 

“Really good…you’re doing really good…” he swallowed, hips becoming a bit restless as they jerked a little beneath you. Grinning, you leaned down again, teeth sinking into the flesh of his pectoral as your hips lifted nearly all the way before slamming down on him. Sanemi moaned again, the sensations turning his brain back into mush as you lapped at the teeth marks you left around his nipple. You repeated this process with the nipple you had neglected thus far, moaning softly as you rolled your hips. You were going to drive him insane, your version of teasing was far crueler than his. Yet he loved every minute of it, completely lost in the way you were edging him. When you were satisfied with your markings, you shifted your full attention back to riding him, pulling off all together despite his complaints as you repositioned yourself. “It’ll be worth it…” you crooned, ignoring the strain in your thighs as you planted your feet firmly on either side of his hips. The best part, Sanemi was completely pliant, letting you do as you pleased with a flushed face and lazy grin. But you could tell, he was waiting for you to go too far, tease him for too long, then he’d take over. You really wanted to see what his limits were, albeit you figured you would have plenty of time after tonight to figure that out. But, you had waited too long to not try and indulge in everything now. 

You sunk back down on him, watching Sanemi’s head fall back as you took half of him. Once again, you began to bounce until you found a good rhythm. Even though your thighs burned a bit with the effort, your new position allowed you much more control over your movements. “Fucking…shit…oh fuck~” You whined just as loud as Sanemi’s words, your whole body feeling warm as you rode him with more fervor. The slick sounds emitting from your needy cunt had you whining, eyes wanting to squeeze shut but unable to. You didn’t want to miss a single second of the way Sanemi’s face contorted in pleasure. He was way more sensitive, a third orgasm in such a short time frame may be pushing him beyond his limits but god dammit you were too perfect to stop. His eyes seemed to gloss over, hands pathetically grasping at your legs as his hips bucked up unceremoniously to meet yours. “T-tell me…” You gasped out, hands falling behind you to brace yourself on his knees. “Good! Fuck you’re so per-ah-perfect.” He was turning scarlet, embarrassed by the noises you were getting out of him. “G-good…such a good boy…” you crooned, body aching with effort as you continued to fuck your self on him. Sanemi’s mind seemed to blank the moment you uttered good boy. 

Any ounce of self restraint he had flew straight out the window. Sanemi’s hips jutted upwards, earning a yelp in response as you tried to regain your balance. It didn’t work though, you went from leaning backwards to falling against his chest within seconds. “S-sanemi…” you choked out as his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in place as his feet found stable ground in the mattress below him. This new position left you completely at his mercy, his hips pistoning into you with new vigor. The noises you made nearly sounded animalistic, your skin recoiling with each upwards thrust of his hips. “Y-you…this was supposed to be…” you nearly wailed, your orgasm coming out of nowhere as you sprayed warm liquid all over his dick. It dripped slowly to the mattress below, effectively ruining his bedding. Not that Sanemi cared though, if anything it made him work harder. “Yeah… your turn… I’ll g-give you another chance some other time.” His jaw was clenched, your body was nearly limp against his as he continued to rut into you. It didn’t take that much longer, Sanemi thrusts grew erratic as he reached his third and final peak. He came inside again, no longer caring about the consequences when his bones felt like jelly. 

He fully relaxed a moment later, breathing heavy and unable to move. You couldn’t even find the strength to lift your head, listening intently to Sanemi’s heartbeat slowly return to normal. You stayed in that position for a while, shivering as his softened cock slipped out of you, the steady leak of his cum following it. “So…” Sanemi spoke softly, eyes feeling heavy. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt this content. “So…” you repeated, carefully lifting your head. You had moved to get off of him, despite his protests. You settled next to him, your front pressed snuggly to his side, his arm wrapping around your shoulder to hold you close. “We need to clean up.” he muttered softly, not only did the two of you need to clean yourselves, you needed to change his bedding. “Yeah, we do, but I can’t really feel my legs right now.” You laughed, hand resting on his chest to trace the scars that were there. Sanemi snorted, his hand playing with your hair while his arm still rested on your shoulders. “We can worry about it in a little bit.” he teased softly, heart feeling as light as air with you next to him. “Did this… make-up for your shitty experience last night?” You chewed on your lower lip, now was a better time than any to reveal your secret. 

“Ugh don’t remind me.” he cringed a bit, thinking back on the entire thing. “Well… I do have something to confess…” you started lightly, only a little worried about how he’d react. Though, it seemed Sanemi was already a step ahead of you. “You were awake, weren’t you?” he didn’t sound mad, rather he sounded curious. “I was.” you sounded a bit sheepish, continuing carefully. “I heard the whole ordeal and… well… I heard you moan my name.” You squeezed your eyes shut, even though you didn’t think he would react poorly, you were still bracing yourself for anger. “You did, huh?” Sanemi is chuckling, his hand still playing with your hair. “Is that why you had the courage to make a move?” It seems he knew you better than you thought. “Yeah, actually. It was the only reason I felt confident enough going for you… I was so scared of ruining this.” Your confession had his cheeks turning pink, a gentle smile creeping up his features. “I guess I can’t be too mad, especially since it led you right into my arms…finally.” he added softly, he wasn’t used to all this mushy stuff but with you he couldn’t seem to help it. “So, you feel the same then?” you were positive you had feelings for him, but you worried it was too soon to go on and confess you loved him. Even though it was the honest truth. 

“If that feeling is love… then yes. It’s going to sound incredibly cliche, but I’ve been in love with you since the moment I laid eyes on you. Those feelings only intensified the more I got to know you.” You looked up at him, finding a bit more strength in your limbs as you moved to kiss his cheek. “I…I love you too. It’s super cliche but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, you’ve been a thought on my mind since we met up for the first time to see if we’d be a good fit to live together.” you confessed with a grin, eyes sparkling in the moonlight that filled his room. “So we've been dancing around each other since the end of August for no reason.” Sanemi laughed in disbelief, you joined him. “I guess so.” You laughed as well, thighs shifting and making you cringe a bit. “We really need to clean up…” you could feel the sticky remnants beginning to dry. “We do.” He sounded a bit sad as he let you go, allowing you to get up and off the bed. He followed you, holding back a laugh when he realized how fucked up his comforter got. “Go take a shower, I’ll take care of this.” You pouted a bit, face warm when you looked at the damage. “Will you join me after?” You truly had no energy for anything else, but the idea of showering alone just felt so lonely. Sanemi laughed, pulling you close to place a kiss on top of your head. “Yeah, I’ll join you.” he let you go a moment later, watching as you walked out of the door and headed for the bathroom. 

Now that he was alone, he couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face. He was so happy he could start skipping, he had never been so happy to strip his bed. The comforter would need to be washed, so would his sheets, but luckily his mattress was unharmed. That being said, he wasn’t in any mood to go to the basement and do a load of laundry. “Her bed it is.” he muttered to himself, thankful that your bed was still clean and untouched. Laundry could wait for the morning, for now, you were waiting for him in the shower. You had only been standing under the warm water for a few minutes before Sanemi joined you. Neither of you had the energy to do anything other than bathe, though it was far more intimate than anything you had done that night. He was gentle with you, taking all the time he could to bathe your body. He even washed your hair for you, scrubbing your scalp with care. You returned the favor, enjoying every minute of washing his body, enjoying the way his muscles flexed. “You’re ticklish, aren't you.” he couldn’t deny it if he wanted to. You two stayed in the shower until the water began to turn cold. You stood in front of the mirror, towel wrapped around you as you began brushing your teeth, it was close to one in the morning at this point. Sanemi fell into rhythm beside you, brushing his teeth and while watching you in the mirror. You winked at him, putting your toothbrush away and laughing as he blushed. 

Sanemi had told you the plan before getting out of the shower, so you entered your room to find something to put on. Sanemi joined you again a few minutes later, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers. “I promise this is how I typically sleep.” He laughed when you eyed in with your eyebrow cocked. You had put on an oversized tshirt and panties, no bra or anything else. You settled into bed together, curling up beside Sanemi immediately. “There is one other thing we haven’t discussed.” You started softly, head resting on his chest as you closed your eyes. “Yeah? What is it?” His hand had returned to your hair, playing with slightly damp locks. “What are we? Now, I mean.” You were giving him the option, allowing him to choose whatever he felt most comfortable with. “Well, if you’d let me… I’d love for you to be my girlfriend.” You were thankful the room was dark and that your face was on his chest so he couldn’t see the way you smiled. “I would love nothing more than to call you my boyfriend.” You tried to sound calm but the giddiness in your tone gave it away. “Consider it done then, pretty girl.” You laughed now, arm slinging over his waist to hold him close. “Good night, lover boy.” Sanemi’s laughter rumbled in his chest, quietly he uttered “Good night, pretty”

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

A month and a half later, your shared apartment looked a bit different. You had sold your bed frame and mattress after a few weeks of sleeping only in Sanemi’s bed. You figured the items were just taking up space and there was probably some college student itching to get their hands on a good deal. Plus… who doesn’t like a little bit of pocket money. So you listed them as a set and it’s no shock that they sold within a day. Sanemi had been lovingly pestering you to turn the space into a gym/office. “There is no way we’re getting gym equipment all the way up here! There is a damn community gym on the ground floor.” Sanemi had only pouted, saying he didn’t want all the fancy stuff. Just some weights and maybe a pull up bar so he could work out while you studied. “You just want new ways to seduce me.” His laugh told you that you weren’t too far off with your statement. In the end, you gave in. Since you’d be living here the whole year, even during break, it was only right to make the place your own. 

This time, as a couple opposed to roommates. 

You ended up finishing your room makeover just in time for finals. The t wo of you spent the week leading up to your exams in that room, stud ying… for the most part. Regardless, the most dreaded time of year came and went and you both ended your semester with passed exams and passed classes. Now, you can enjoy your winter break in peace. “Are you sure they won’t be upset?” Your cheeks puffed out as you pulled the zipper closed on your suitcase. “Of course not, Ma will love having another mouth to feed. It’s her biggest form of love really. Plus my siblings have been dying to meet you.” Your heart fluttered a bit, you’d only talked to and seen Sanemi’s family through his own texts and pictures. You had gotten to know Genya a bit over the few times Sanemi facetimed him. As for the other siblings, you were still trying to get their names and faces down pat. You often found yourself silently repeating “Genya, Sumi, Hiroshi, Tekio, Koto, and Shuya.” his mother’s name was Shizu, which you had already committed to memory. 

“I really don’t want to be any trouble.” You added softly, still a bit worried about going to meet his family. Sanemi stopped looking through his things, looking up at you with a sad smile. “You won’t be any trouble at all, I mean it. My Ma even yelled at me over the phone! She said if I didn’t bring you home with me then she’ll never let me hear the end of it. She’s even more excited to meet you than my siblings are.” He crossed the room, wrapping you in a tight hug. “It seems like a lot of pressure…” he added softly, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. “But you have nothing to worry about, they’ll love you, just as much as I do.” You laughed a bit, mumbling out an “I love you too” against his chest. When you pulled away, he was a bit surprised to see tears in your eyes. “Hey…” he whispered softly, smiling as he used his thumb to wipe them away. “I promise you, they’ll love you.” His constant affirmations made your heart pound. “I trust you.” He kissed your forehead, letting you go just a bit reluctantly. “Do you have everything you need?” Luckily his family lived kinda close. It would only take three hours by train to get there. His mother would be waiting to pick the two of you up from the station.

“I do, do you?” you raised an eyebrow as he closed up the fairly empty suitcase. “Yeah, it’s my home we're going too.” he chuckled as he placed it on the floor “most of my stuff is still there.” You did the same, pulling up the handle so you could wheel it. “I guess that's true…” you were excited to see his family home, it would give you even more insight on the man you loved. You would be staying with them for two weeks and then returning. By then the holidays would be over and you’d get to start preparing for the spring semester. Then, you’d figure out if you’d renew the lease or look for somewhere else to stay. It seemed rather daunting but it was still months away, nothing to worry about now other than making a good impression. Sanemi lets you go ahead of him, flicking off the lights to your shared room before following you to the door. Your backpack was slung over one shoulder, your keys in the hand that was wheeling your suitcase behind you. “We’re still catching a taxi right?” Neither of you wanted to pay to keep your car at the train station for the next two weeks. “Yeah, I’ll pay for it.” He smiled when you scrunch your nose, you hated that he insisted on paying for everything himself.

Hell, he had even tried to pay the rent in full himself. By try, you mean he did. You nearly killed him when you found out he went ahead and paid for the next month in full. Regarding gifts, you had both decided to exchange them when you returned, it would just be easier than lugging them to and from. So, after Sanemi did one last check to make sure all lights were off, everything was unplugged and the stove wouldn’t mysteriously ignite on its own, you were stepping into the hall and locking the door. You still had roughly five hours before encountering the rest of the Shinazugawa family, but that didn’t ease the butterflies in your stomach as you pressed the button for the ground floor. “You already look as if you’ll faint.” Sanemi laughed, nudging you with his shoulder and watching you quickly catch your balance. You huffed out a laugh, rolling your eyes as you gripped the handle of your suitcase tightly. “You’d feel the same if we were going to meet my family. You’re just lucky they are a flight away.” Sanemi couldn’t deny it, the very thought made his stomach turn as the elevator doors opened. “Touché”. 

The next thing you knew, you were boarding the train. “I texted my Ma and told her we’re on our way.” He seemed giddy, the grin on his face was that of an excited little kid. You couldn’t help but smile as well, his excitement was contagious. “That's good!” you took the window seat, hand immediately reaching for Sanemi’s once he put your backpack in the overhead storage. Catching the train now meant you’d get to Sanemi’s hometown around ten in the morning. Then you could crash in his room after the breakfast Sanemi had assured you his mother would make. “She won’t be satisfied until we’ve gained a few pounds.” The thought warmed your heart, you just prayed you made a good impression on such a wonderful lady. There was one thing you weren’t aware of though, and it was the fact that Shizu practically knew you already. Simply because of how often Sanemi texted her gushing about you. Within three days of you two settling into your new relationship, he had excitedly texted her that he had a girlfriend. Shizu wasn’t all that shocked when he told her it was his roommate, she could tell from the first time he ever spoke about you that he liked you. His mother could read him better than anyone. 

This time, it was different than any of the girls he had ever brought home. Most of them only lasted a few weeks before breaking things off and moving on. When Shizu asked him why, he would say things just weren’t clicking. But with you? It was something else entirely. She still thinks back on the phone call she received from Sanemi, shortly after meeting with you about the roommate request. “I finally found a good place with good rent, just out of my budget but this girl was looking for a roommate. I met with her a little while ago and she’s super nice. She said she would gladly let me take the room because we clicked right away. Her name is y/n, Ma she's so pretty and kind. I mean I don’t want to get ahead of myself but wow…” Shizu had been smiling the whole time he spoke, congratulating him softly as he continued to go on about you. It wasn’t until the two of you made things official that Sanemi actually sent her a picture of the two of you. He had been dying too for months now but he didn’t want to cross your boundaries or make things weird. Shizu had to admit, you were prettier than she could have ever imagined. She had painted such a pretty picture of you in her head based on the way Sanemi spoke about you. But the picture he had sent had actually made her gasp.

It was candid, you must have been laughing at something he said but your eyes seemed to sparkle as you looked at him. Sanemi had already accumulated an entire album of candid shots of you, but you didn’t know that. “Earth to Sanemi?” you waved your hand in front of his face, laughing softly as he blinked back into reality. “Huh?” the train had already begun to move, the world flying past the window at rapid speeds. “You can lean on my shoulder if you’re that sleepy.” You laughed again, thumb brushing along his scarred knuckles. “No, no I’m fine. I was just thinking.” He confessed softly, cheeks turning a shade of pink as he looked at you. You noticed that look in his eyes, when his pupils seem to swallow the pale purple of his irises. “You’re daydreaming about me, huh?” you had a cheeky grin on your face as he groaned, he still couldn’t understand how you always caught him. “I was right, wasn't I?” you laughed softly, playing with his fingers as he nodded lamely. “You’re always on my mind, what can I say?” 

You look away, making a fake gagging noise, Sanemi’s laughter reaching your ears as you turn to look at him again. “You’re such a sap.” You laughed, settling your head against his shoulder. “It’s all your fault.” He muttered softly, embarrassed just a bit by how soft you turned him. When it came to you, he could melt into a pile of mush over something as simple as you laughing at what he said. “I guess you’re right, I can’t help the fact that I’m so loveable.” You yawn, eyes scanning the surroundings that fly past. You could feel Sanemi’s shoulder shake as he laughed, a smile tugging on your face. Silence fell over the two of you as the train barreled towards your destination, it took him a minute to realize you had fallen asleep. “I guess you were running off of nerves.” He laughs softly, opening his phone camera to snap a photo of your cheek squished into his shoulder. He saved it to his album, smiling as he scrolled through the photos before quickly closing it and putting in one ear bud. “Looks like I’ll have a lot of time to myself.” He had a funny feeling you wouldn’t be waking up any time soon. 

His assumption was correct, he was gently shaking you awake as the train approached the station. “We’re here.” He smiled down at you, at some point he had managed to shift your head from his shoulder down to his lap. You blinked awake, eyes scanning your surroundings as you tried to recall what was even going on. “You can sleep more once we get to my home, but for now, we’re about to stop.” Sanemi’s voice is soft, watching as realization dawns on your features and you go from lying down to sitting straight up in the blink of an eye. “W-we’re here?” You practically squeaked, the nervous butterflies turning into a frenzy as you realized within the next ten minutes you’d be meeting Sanemi’s mother. “Oh my god! Why did you let me fall asleep! I had no time to mentally prepare!” Your hands came up to hide your face, trying to collect yourself as you inhaled deeply. Sanemi just watched you with a smile, finding your nerves to be amusing. “You’re going to be perfectly fine, I swear.” The train finally stopped all together, jerking you slightly as the conductor came over the intercom to announce the stop and the doors opened at the end of each train car. “C’mon, just rip the bandaid.” 

“Easier said than done…” You stood up, immediately feeling weighed down by dread as Sanemi pulled your backpack from the overhead storage and gave it to you. “You’ll be fine, you’ll be laughing at yourself in less than fifteen minutes when you realize how much you overreacted.” You wanted to believe he was right, but naturally your nerves wouldn't settle until you had met his family and settled in for the two week stay. You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly as he led you off the train with the rest of the passengers getting off at this stop. “Wait here and I’ll grab the suitcases.” You nodded, hand gripping the strap of your backpack as you tried to replicate the grounded comfort Sanemi’s hand offered you. Within two minutes he was strolling back to you, both suitcases wheeling behind him.”Here we are.” He gave the handle of yours to you, sighing softly as your hand reached for it shakily. “I’m gonna call my Ma real quick to let her know we’re here. I’m sure she is too but I don’t know where she could have parked.” You nodded, unable to formulate words as the dreaded anticipation built. It was no shock when you heard her pick up after one ring, her voice reaching your ears even over the bustling station. 

Sanemi clicked his phone off a moment later. “She’s waiting out front.” He smiled at you, shoving his phone in his pocket so he could hold your hand. “I’m not even going to ask if you’re ready cause I know you’ll say no.” He teased you softly, pulling you along as you followed behind him just a step. Your eyes scanned the station around you, noting how many people seemed to be swamped with holiday gifts they were bringing to family. The holidays were a dreaded time to travel, you typically tried to avoid it, but you could make an exception for this. Especially when you had a boyfriend like Sanemi with you. The cold air outside hit you like a freight train, your hand squeezing Sanemi a little tighter as the train station crowd didn’t seem to disperse after exiting the building. Sanemi stopped for a moment, eyes scanning the curb until he spotted a familiar SUV, a car he deemed way too big for his short mom. But with all of his siblings, a car that size was necessary.  “There she is.” He didn’t let go of your hand, rather he let his suitcase go for a moment so he could wave to her. That small detail made your heart flutter a bit, for a reason other than your panicked nerves. 

Your throat seemed to go dry as the car door opened and a small woman jumped out of the car. “Sanemi! Y/N!” she called with a bright smile as the two of you walked towards her. “Ma! How are you?” Sanemi smiled, you let go of his hand so he could hug his mom. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Miss Shinazugawa.” You used both hands to clutch your suitcase now, waiting for her to let go of her son. “Please, call me Shizu, dear.” She beamed at you, leaving Sanemi to pull you into a tight hug. You jumped a bit but welcomed the embrace, motherly love was always comforting. “Oh, alright.” You smiled softly, your nerves melting just a bit as you hugged her back. “It’s freezing, let's get your stuff in the car and get you two home.” Shizu pulled away, hands coming up to hold your face with a gentle smile. Sanemi took the initiative, taking your things and putting them in the trunk, his mother opened the back door for you to get in before rounding the car and getting back in the driver seat. A moment later Sanemi was joining you in the back. “Away we go.” Shizu smiled, glancing at the two of you in the rear view mirror before pulling away from the curb and out to the street. 

“I must prepare you two now, the kids are ecstatic to see the two of you. So please, y/n-dear, don’t be afraid to say you’re overwhelmed.” She laughed softly, you nodded a bit as Sanemi’s hand found your own. “I’ll try and be your human shield.” He laughed, “I’m sure Genya will be one too, he’s good at picking up on emotions and such, he’s also great at handling the little gremlins.” It was comforting to know that they thought far ahead for you, making it apparent they wouldn’t take any offense if you truly got overwhelmed. “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind but I’m sure I'll be okay. Thank you for welcoming me so kindly, Shizu.” Her name still felt a bit awkward on your tongue but you felt rude to call her by anything else. “Of course dear, I’m very happy to have you here. It’s not often at all that Sanemi even brings home friends, nevermind such a beautiful girl like you.” Sanemi made a strangled noise of embarrassment as you laughed. “I’m not surprised, he’s never brought any friends back to our apartment.” You teased him, watching as his mouth dropped “Hey! Neither do you.” You shrug “I guess you’re right.” 

Shizu was smiling, glancing back at the two of you in the mirror every so often. “So, what happened that the two of you finally realized your feelings for one another?” A question like that had you and Sanemi growing warm, glancing at each other quickly. “Oh, uhm… well…” Your face was burning by now, memories of that night flashing through your mind. “M-Ma a question like that is a bit much.” Sanemi didn’t sound upset, rather he sounded flustered. That gave away more than needed, making Shizu laugh in response. “Oh, I see.” her tone had your eyes squeezing shut, embarrassment forcing a laugh out of you. “I’m not one to judge, ya know. Regardless of how it happened… though I think I get what’s being implied, clearly your feelings for one another go a lot farther than physical.” Sanemi groaned out another “ma” before Shizu began to laugh. “You’re both adults, Sanemi, I’d be foolish to think you two haven’t gone a lot further.” This time you couldn’t help but look at Sanemi and laugh, his mother’s innocence and honesty was comforting. “Yeah, okay Ma we get it.” Sanemi’s ears were burning red, the smile on your face only making it worse because you clearly found this all to be amusing. 

The rest of the car ride continued with easy going banter, before you knew it Shizu was pulling into the driveway of the Shinazugawa family home. “Feeling better?” Sanemi whispered to you softly as his mom got out of the car to pop the trunk. “Yeah, but I’ll feel even better after we get this over with.” You chuckled nervously, seeing one of his siblings peek through the front window before disappearing again. Sanemi kissed your cheek before getting out of the car, you did the same, helping Shizu with your bags as you moved up the driveway. As expected, your introduction to his six little siblings was nothing short of a whirlwind. Though you couldn’t lie, you enjoyed getting to know them over the dinner the mother made. Genya had been the easiest to talk to due to his age, but before you knew it, the youngest of the Shinazugawa siblings was sleeping soundly with his head on your shoulder as you watched a movie with them all. Sanemi sat beside you on the couch, watching his siblings fondly as they talked to you rather than watch the movie. You answered each question with such patience, your hand open because Koto had fallen asleep holding it. Shizu had  joked that he was trying to steal his big brother’s girlfriend. 

It was just past midnight when Genya took Koto from you, the other siblings had gone up to bed a few minutes prior. “It was really nice meeting you, y/n.” Geyna smiled, cheeks rosy because he still got a bit nervous around girls according to Sanemi. “It was lovely meeting you too, Genya. I’m happy to spend the holidays with you all.” Genya turned bright red, earning a laugh from Sanemi as he bid the two of you goodnight and carried Koto to his room. “Well, it’s been an eventful day, do you wanna go to bed?” Sanemi smiled, his arm slinging over your shoulder now that Koto wasn’t hogging you. “I’m beyond tired, so yeah, sleep sounds amazing.” You laugh, snuggling closer to him. It was honestly the opposite of getting up, instead you both settled further into the couch with the tv droning on in front of you. It didn’t take long before your hands wandered, your legs moving to drape over Sanemi’s as he turned to kiss you. The arm he had slung over your shoulder moved to rest behind your head, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss. You allowed him, of course, feeling mildly inappropriate for doing such a thing on the couch in the living room of his family’s home. 

You pulled away the moment his hand gripped your thigh, chest heaving. “N-not here. What if one of your siblings or your mother walks down here?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, noticing the way the light from the tv still manages to reflect off of the ball of his piercing. “You’re right… but my bedroom wall is shared with another one of my siblings… this is really the only place we can be a bit loud…” he groans, getting off of you just a bit so he can look at you better. “I-I’d rather try and be quiet than get caught in the act.” You would be booking yourself a train ticket home if one of his little siblings saw you two being intimate. “Alright fine, but you better be quiet.” Sanemi smirks at you as he gets up, “oh that’s a bold statement coming from you.” You snorted, getting up and turning the TV off before following him upstairs to his room. You had seen it already since you took some time after dinner to unpack your clothes and put them in Sanemi’s dresser. There was nothing for you to investigate as you stepped inside, shutting and locking the door with a soft click as Sanemi flicked on his bedside lamp. “Genya usually sleeps with a noise machine, so as long as we put some background noise on too…” 

Sanemi was already pulling his shirt over his head as he spoke, watching as you sauntered to the dresser to find something to sleep in… or rather, you were looking for something to put on in the morning. “Background noise? Don’t tell me you’re going to put on music, that makes it all the more obvious.” You laugh softly, pulling your shirt over your head and shamelessly unclipping your bra, no need for extra distractions. “No, not music but…” Suddenly white noise was blasting through a small speaker and you found yourself bursting into a fit of laughter. “How sexy” you choked, dropping your pants and underwear at the same time. “Oh I know. My best work yet.” He was standing, making his way over to you as he pushed his sweats down. Your eyes flickered lower, smirking when you realized he was already hard. “You’re relentless.” you breathe out, his hands clinging to your waist as he presses you to the dresser, kissing you deeply. Sanemi smiles against your lips, stepping out of his pants and boxers that have pooled at his feet. “You know you love it.” Hoarse, just above a whisper despite the blaring white noise filling the room. You don’t bother answering, rather you push him gently so you can drop to your knees below him. 

Your hand gingerly grabs his base, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip as he braces himself on the dresser. “Fuck…” He chokes out, eyes flickering up to the mirror before him, mildly upset he can’t see past his waist. Just your head is visible as you begin to lick along his shaft. “Remember you have to keep quiet.” You shoot him a wink before enveloping the head of his cock, watching his head fall forward as he chokes on his own moans. You let your jaw go slack, taking half of him before pulling away, using the saliva that wet him as a lubricant. You pumped him steadily, running your tongue along his slit, collecting the salty precum that oozed from it. You had gotten to know him well enough over the last month and a half to know exactly what he enjoyed. Naturally that meant it didn’t take all that long before he was grabbing your hair a bit harshly and tugging you off of him, cheeks flushed red as he tried to calm down. “N-not yet.” he sighed, moving towards the bed and motioning for you to follow. “Sit down.” he commanded you gently, watching you crawl onto the bed and lay flat instead. He chuckled a bit before opening his bedside drawer. “I know we said we wouldn’t exchange any gifts until we got home, but I bought something with me…” You sat up now, eyes narrowing as he pulled out a small pouch. 

“What the fuck.” you laughed, catching the small velvet pouch and opening it carefully. Inside was a pill shaped tongue ring, immediately you understood. Your face grew warm, mouth hanging open slightly as you plucked it out. “No you fucking didn’t…” You took it out of the even smaller plastic bag and twisted it until it began to vibrate. “Sanemi oh my fucking–” You instantly turned it off, looking at him utterly flabbergasted. “Oh I fucking did.” He pulled it out of your hand, moving over to the dresser so he could use the mirror and take out his current tongue ring to replace it with the vibrating one. “You’re evil.” you groaned, body reacting tenfold to the idea of what was to come. He could only huff out a laugh as he stuck his tongue out, twisting the vibrating stud into place. “You’ll have to be very quiet.” He smirked, wiping the saliva off of his fingers. “You planned this…” You couldn’t believe it, not even as he crawled onto the mattress and pressed you backward until your head hit the pillows. “Oh of course I did, think of it as a reward for doing so well today, I’m proud of you, you know.” Your brows furrowed. “I appreciate it but this is such a strange time to get sentimental.” You watched his shoulders shake as he laughed, head burying in your neck to kiss it softly. He wouldn’t leave any hickeys in plain sight, at least not while you were staying here. 

“Can’t help it.” He muttered between each kiss he placed, not getting rougher until he hit your chest. Your hands immediately grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he bit down on your breast. You had come to learn that you enjoyed the pain it brought, along with the satisfaction of his teeth indents remaining for a couple days. He lapped at the skin he bit, kissing it gently as he moved to flick your nipple with his tongue. Part of you was tempted to say foreplay wasn’t needed, sucking him off as well as the revelation of his “present” were enough to have you dripping for him. “You know, we have to be careful because there is really no way to explain why we needed to immediately change your bedding after one night.” One hand moves up to thread itself through his hair while his tongue drags its way over to your other breast. Sanemi only hummed in agreement, debating whether or not he should turn the vibrating piercing on now while he teased you or let your anticipation build until the last second. In the end he decided to wait, you should get to experience it first hand where you wanted it most. 

When he was satisfied with the markings he left on your chest, Sanemi placed another kiss on your lips before moving down to settle himself between your legs. You couldn’t bring yourself to look down in fear of the noises you knew you’d make, so you kept your eyes trained on the ceiling, mentally preparing yourself for what was to come. Sanemi’s tongue lapped at your inner thighs, pleased to see your arousal had already managed to smear across them. “You’re so excited, how cute.” It was so soft you barely heard it, but you still felt the need to find grounding in the sheets below you. You gripped them tightly, bracing yourself for the “final blow” of sorts. He cleaned you gingerly before placing open mouth kisses over your folds, eyes trained on the rise and fall of your chest as his tongue just barely swept across your cunt. He repeated these motions a couple of times, until your thighs spread further in an attempt to give him more. “Okay, pretty girl…” He gave you a slight warning before sticking his tongue out, twisting one end of the pill shaped tongue ring until it began to vibrate. Your breathing hitched at the sound, just audible enough to be heard through the white noise you had going. 

Sanemi found the sensation to be a bit odd, his whole tongue felt like it was vibrating due to the small object. Though, it excited him at the same time, hands moving to hold your legs open as he carefully placed his mouth over your clit. His eyes remained locked on you as he pressed his tongue against your throbbing cunt. Your hand immediately smacked over your mouth as you gasped and moaned at the same time, the vibrations going straight through your body. When he didn’t move his tongue, you began to squirm, hand pressing tightly to your mouth as muffled moans and whimpers clawed their way out of you. Sanemi waited until he felt like you were about to come before pulling his tongue away and eagerly lapping at the rest of your cunt, purposely avoiding your clit until you were getting wetter with each pass of his tongue over your entrance. Your hand never let go of the sheets, nor did your other hand ever leave your mouth. Your thighs trembled at certain points with the effort of trying to close but Sanemi’s grip alone proved to be stronger than your trembling effort. It wasn’t until tears were leaking down your cheeks, your head tossed back as your moans grew louder even behind the muffling of your hand, that Sanemi gave in and paid more attention to your clit. 

“I-I’m gonna… f-fuck.” You repeated the last word over and over, the build up in your gut growing almost too intense to handle as he pressed the pill shaped piercing directly on your clit and kept it in place. The vibrations paired with the wet warmth of his mouth proved to be a lethal combination. You nearly reached for the pillow behind you to muffle the loud sobs that wracked your body as you came on his tongue. Sanemi didn’t move away immediately, holding it in place still as the overstimulation grew to be almost painful. You began to sob, begging him in a voice just above a whisper to ease up but he didn’t. Your legs trembled, unable to fight against him considering he was far more stable than you were right now. After an agonizing few seconds, the overstimulation turned to pleasure again, your cunt twitching violently as a second orgasm arrived from the shockwaves of your first. You swore louder than you should have, stars spotting your vision as you came hard for the second time. “S-Sanemi please I’m fucking serious y-you…” But you couldn’t finish the sentence, not when he started wiggling his tongue before moving it away to lap up all the juices you had spilled. 

The piercing was still vibrating as Sanemi’s tongue licked along your cunt, giving your clit a break as he teased you in other areas. You were breathing heavily as he used two fingers to spread you open, making it more accessible to push his tongue inside of you. While it couldn’t reach nearly as deep as his dick, the vibrations were making up for it. Your jaw immediately clenched, struggling desperately to keep the noises down as he began tongue fucking you. Your vision was growing blurry from the way your eyes began to water, Sanemi’s name leaving your lips in a quiet mantra as you forced yourself to remain quiet when you really wanted to scream. Yet the idea of being caught seemed to egg Sanemi on, his mouth was relentless as he ate you out like it was his last meal. As if he was trying to break you, make you scream and wake up the whole house. You began to squirm further as two fingers slipped in along with his tongue, the feeling itself was utterly indescribable. Calloused fingers ran along your heated walls, scissoring and pumping until they brought out wave after wave of your arousal with them. You had barely noticed the fact that Sanemis tongue had pulled away all together, watching in fascination as arousal pooled below you on his bedding. So much for keeping it clean… he found it satisfying. 

 The realization that his mouth wasn’t on you didn’t hit you until it had returned to your clit, your back arching off the mattress momentarily as he flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit. His fingers pumped endlessly, his tongue working in rhythm until you were slapping both hands over your mouth in effort to keep quiet as you came for a third time. Your body had gone completely stiff, back arching and your head tossed back as warm liquid gushed from between your thighs, only encouraged by Sanemi’s fingers. This time, Sanemi pulled away all together to give you a minute to come down. His fingers fumbled for a moment as he tried to turn off the small vibrating piercing, admiring the mess you had made on his bed. By the time your vision had returned to normal, you were looking up at Sanemi with lidded eyes. “You’re so evil.” Your voice is hoarse, hands shaking a bit as you push yourself up to see the damage. “Fuck…” Sanemi didn’t seem bothered at all, rather he was leaning down to crash his lips against yours, forcing you to taste your own arousal on his tongue. You moved closer, immediately drawn back into whatever trance he always managed to pull you into. 

“How do you want me?” Sanemi sounded breathless as he pulled away, smiling down at you. “Like this please…” You turned away, positioning yourself shamelessly on your hands and knees for him. Sanemi groaned softly, he’d never get tired of seeing you like this, with nothing to hide or be ashamed of because it was just him. His hand immediately found his dick, pumping himself carefully to spread his precum, still a bit sensitive from the orgasm he had denied himself of early. His other hand came down to grip one side of your ass, kneading the flesh roughly. You whined loudly as the dull head of his cock pressed into you, your cunt welcoming him greedily with how wet he had made you. You chose this position strategically, pillows and his mattress were at your disposal to muffle your noises. Sanemi took his time, pushing inside of you inch by inch until your ass met his abdomen. It still took you a second to adjust, his head pressing tightly to your cervix, making you want to crawl forward a bit to relieve the pressure. Sanemi knew you well enough by now to hold your hip with his other hand, that way you couldn’t move. Sanemi is careful to not let his emotions get the better of him, you had done such a good job trying to remain quiet, now it was his turn to do the same. 

He leaned forward, placing open mouth kisses down your spine before straightening again, hips drawing back half way before sliding forward again. He started slow, finding his rhythm in slow and deep thrusts. Your body rocks forward with each movement, until your shaky arms give out beneath you and you fall into the mattress. The position is even better in Sanemi’s eyes, his hands immediately grabbing either side of your hips to angle himself better. The slow drag was intoxicating to you, your mouth parted as quiet whimpers slipped past your lips, drool seeping out of the corner of your mouth as all your energy was focused on keeping your lower half up. Sanemi’s teeth sunk into his lower lip, face dusted pink as his head fell forward to watch himself disappear and reappear inside of you. You could feel him twitching, nearly in time with the way your body involuntarily clenched around him. Your whimpers turned into moans, half muffled by the way your face was pressed into the mattress, arousal dripping down your thighs. Sanemi was groaning despite his efforts to remain quiet, hips speeding up as his pleasure pulsed through him. He wasn’t going to last long at all but he wasn’t all that bothered by it. 

“Sanemi…” You whined quietly, clit throbbing in need despite the stimulation you had been given. He caught on, hand snaking around your front and disappearing between your legs. You hissed as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it just as you had wanted him too but quickly reminded of how overstimulated you were. “Oh fuck…” You slurred, head burying in the mattress as you practically sobbed. Sanemi didn’t stop, biting down harder on his lower lip in effort to silence the noises he was making, but it was increasingly difficult with the noises emitting from you. The build up in your gut is becoming nearly unbearable, your hands clawing at the sheets as you cried out into the mattress below you. You came hard around him, walls stuttering around his length and interrupting his rhythm. Though it was the final push he needed, unable to contain himself as his hips drew half way out as he began to cum, shakily they pushed forward, bottoming out completely. His grip on your hips loosened, his muscles feeling like jelly as he moved to sit on his knees. You were pliant in his grasp, letting him guide you into a position that was comfortable for both of you until he felt like pulling out. 

“We… we got carried away.” his tone is soft, for the first time since he turned it on, he noticed the white noise he was playing. You pulled your face from the mattress, shakily wiping your mouth as you tried to turn to look at him. “You think?” your voice is shaky, all you wanted was sleep at this point but there was one issue. “The bed is a wreck.” He comments softly, finally realizing how damp the comforter was beneath his knees. “That’s your fault, I warned you.” You grimace, there was no way you were going to be able to sleep feeling as sticky as you did. “You got me there…” he laughs softly, slowly pulling out as he goes soft. “I take full responsibility for giving you a good time.” You roll your eyes, body aching as you roll over and move to sit up. “I’m going to shower, you figure out the bed… and no joining me this time.” It had become a habit at this point for Sanemi to take care of the ruined bedding and then join you in the shower after. “Why not?” he whined, a pout forced on his lips as you glared at him. “May I remind you we are at your family’s home? With your mother and siblings?” You hissed, trying to remain serious but failing miserably when his cheeks turned pink. “Did you really forget that fast?” 

“No! Shit okay maybe a little.” You roll your eyes, moving about the room to find something to cover yourself so you can walk down the hall to the bathroom. “Don’t forget to take out that piercing, it’s a bit obvious.” He laughs as you say that, watching as you throw his shirt over your head. “Yeah, yeah I know. I’ll take care of everything but if we aren’t sharing a shower, make sure you’re quick.” It was his last little dig to maybe convince you to let him join. Instead you just nod, uttering a quiet “You got it, captain.” before heading out the door. You make your way down the hall, wondering quietly how he would be able to get new bedding on the bed without raising suspicions from his mother in the morning.

Naturally, you figured it would be impossible and the small woman would tease you endlessly. The thought had heat rushing to your cheeks as you flicked the lights on and shut the door behind you. It took you a second but you managed to figure out the shower, setting it to a comfortable temperature before moving towards the bathroom closet. Sure enough, the closet was stocked with towels of various colors and some even had designs printed on them. That made you chuckle, especially when you noticed a few famous cartoon characters on some. How cute.  

You pulled a towel out of the closet and set it on the bathroom counter, carefully pulling Sanemi’s shirt over your head and dropping it in the hamper. You had to admit, showering alone was quite lonely but it cut your time in half. You managed to scrub your skin clean, wash your hair and condition within fifteen minutes. By the time you stepped out and wrapped the towel around your body, Sanemi was knocking at the door. “Shit I wasn’t fast enough.” His tone was a whisper, making you laugh softly as you pulled the bathroom door open. “Better luck next time.” You pat his shoulder as you walk past him, ignoring his little huff as you re-enter his bedroom.

The bed was made with a new comforter, tucked half way down so you could just slip into it. You placed your towel on the dresser, moving to put on a t-shirt and underwear before towel drying your hair the best you could. You were practically throwing yourself down onto the bed, laughing softly when you realized the white noise was still playing. You managed to stay awake until Sanemi returned, hair damp as he went through his dresser to put on a pair of boxers. You watched with half lidded eyes as he placed the novelty piercing back in the back and put his regular one back in. “Do you want to keep the white noise on?” He looked amused as you nod.

Sanemi turned off the lights before crawling into bed beside you, chuckling softly as he realized how small the bed was compared to the one in your shared apartment. Not that you really minded, immediately rolling over to wrap your arms around his midsection lazily. Your legs tangled together, his arm snaking under your head while the other found its home over your waist. “What did you end up doing with your bedding?” you question softly, sleep pulling at your mildly aching body. “I put it in the wash, which may just be more damning for us in the morning but hopefully my Ma is the only one to catch on.” He chuckles softly, as you groan.

“What a great first impression.” you snort into his chest, unable to stop your smile when you feel his chest rumble under your cheek. “Oh please, you can do no wrong in her eyes, she loves you.” You couldn’t deny that, after less than a day being in her presence, Shizu was already like a mom to you. “I suppose you’re right.” You hum lazily, eyes closing as sleep drags you further down. “Good night, pretty girl.” Sanemi whispered softly, feeling your body relaxing into him. “G’night, lover boy.” just barely audible, as if your mind was working on autopilot. Sanemi smiled, eyes shutting as well, enveloped in the warmth you and his childhood bedroom had to offer.

[tsumuus]

when he sees me

katsuki bakugou x reader, blind date, first date, fluff, ooc?, based on this drabble, probably my longest written fic(around 2300-2400 words, but like thats a lot for me😭)

main masterlist | bnha masterlist

You��ve never considered yourself the romantic type.

Not for lack of curiosity, but because the idea of romance felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. Sure, the view was breathtaking, but one wrong move and you’d plummet into the unknown. Relationships demanded too much- a risk of losing control, of exposing parts of yourself no one else had seen, only to have it thrown back in your face.

That’s why, despite Mina’s relentless campaigning to set you up with her “perfect guy,” you resisted.

“C’mon, he’s not like other guys,” she insisted one afternoon, her golden eyes sparkling with determination.

You sighed, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. “Mina, you’ve said that about all of your friends. And let’s not forget how the last one ended up being obsessed with his ex.”

Mina laughed. “Okay, fair, but this guy is different. He’s… grounded. Straightforward. No games, no fluff. I think you’d actually like him.”

“You’ve said that before too,” you teased.

Her pout was almost convincing. Almost. “Just trust me. One date. If it’s horrible, I’ll never bring it up again. Deal?”

You hesitated, weighing the risk of one awkward evening against weeks of Mina’s pestering. Reluctantly, you gave in. “Fine. One date.”

The restaurant was warm and inviting, its soft lighting casting a cozy glow over the wooden tables and shelves lined with potted plants. Mina had texted you the details earlier: 7 PM, party for two, under your name. She’d been oddly tight-lipped about who your date was, insisting she wanted it to be a surprise.

You were still skeptical, but a small part of you was curious. Maybe Mina was right this time. Maybe.

You arrived a few minutes early, hoping to gather your thoughts before meeting your mystery date. The host greeted you with a polite smile and led you to a small table near the window.

“Your party hasn’t arrived yet,” they said, pulling out your chair.

“Thank you,” you replied, sitting down and scanning the menu.

Minutes ticked by. You started to wonder if you’d been stood up when the door opened, and a blond man walked in, his sharp crimson eyes scanning the room.

You froze.

Even from across the restaurant, you recognized him. Katsuki Bakugou, pro hero and household name, exuded an aura that was impossible to ignore. He wasn’t wearing his hero costume, but the fitted black sweater and dark jeans were somehow just as striking.

Your heart sank. There’s no way he’s here for me.

But then his gaze landed on you, and he started walking over.

“You’re the blind date?” he asked, stopping in front of your table.

You blinked up at him, stunned. “You’re…”

“Katsuki,” he said, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. “Guess we’re both surprised.”

It took you a moment to recover. Of all the people Mina could have set you up with, this was the guy she’d chosen? Pro hero, explosive temper, and notorious for being brutally honest? It didn’t make sense.

“Uh, yeah,” you finally managed. “Nice to meet you.”

He gave a small nod, studying you with an intensity that made you shift in your seat.

The first few minutes were… awkward. He wasn’t exactly a conversationalist, and you weren’t sure how to navigate the situation. But as the evening went on, you began to notice things you hadn’t expected.

For one, he wasn’t as intimidating as you’d imagined. Sure, his words were blunt, but there was a surprising warmth behind them. He listened when you spoke, his attention unwavering. And when he talked about his work, there was a passion in his voice that made it impossible not to be drawn in.

“So, you’re friends with Mina?” he asked at one point, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

“Yeah. We’ve been friends since middle school,” you said. “She’s been trying to set me up for years. Guess she finally got her way.”

He snorted. “Sounds like her.”

You smiled, relaxing slightly. “What about you? How did she convince you to do this?”

“Didn’t take much,” he admitted. “She said you weren’t annoying, so I figured it was worth a shot.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “High praise.”

“It is,” he said, smirking.

Despite yourself, you laughed. The more you talked, the more you realized that he wasn’t what you’d expected. Beneath the sharp edges and fiery reputation was someone who was honest, genuine, and… kind. In his own way.

When the night ended, he walked you to your car. The cool evening air was a welcome contrast to the warmth of the restaurant, and you found yourself wishing the night could last just a little longer.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Didn’t think I’d like this whole blind date thing, but… you’re not bad.”

A small laugh escaped you. “You’re not bad yourself.”

His lips quirked in the faintest of smirks. “See ya around?”

For a moment, you hesitated, the weight of your fears pressing down on you. But then you met his gaze- steady, genuine- and you felt something shift.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “See you around.”

That night, as you lay in bed replaying the evening in your mind, you realized something strange: you weren’t overthinking it. You weren’t second-guessing every word or analyzing every gesture. Instead, you felt… calm.

For the first time, the idea of letting someone in didn’t feel like a leap off a cliff.

It felt like the beginning of something you didn’t want to lose.

You didn’t expect him to call.

Even though the night had gone surprisingly well, you told yourself not to get your hopes up. He was a pro hero, after all- someone whose life moved at a pace so fast it felt impossible to keep up. People like him didn’t have time for something as fragile and delicate as a budding relationship.

Still, the memory of his smirk lingered, sharp and vivid in your mind. The way his crimson eyes had softened ever so slightly when he teased you- so subtle you wondered if you’d imagined it- made it impossible not to replay the evening over and over.

Three days passed. You told yourself to move on, to not dwell on what was probably just a casual dinner for him. That is, until your phone buzzed with a text.

Katsuki: Hey. You free for dinner this week?

The message was so short, so him, that it took you a moment to process it. Your heart stuttered, and you stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity. Was this real? A small, incredulous laugh bubbled out of you. You couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through your chest.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should you reply right away? Wait a few minutes? Was it too eager to answer so quickly?

Finally, with a shaky breath, you typed back:

You: Yeah, I think I could be convinced. When were you thinking?

The pause before his next reply felt like forever, but when it came, it was so straightforward you had to smile.

Katsuki: Friday. 7. Same place.

Simple. Confident. And as you stared at the message, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

The first couple of dinners were... awkward, to say the least.

It wasn’t that Katsuki made you uncomfortable- far from it. But there was something about the way he carried himself, the unwavering intensity in his gaze, that made you hyperaware of every word you spoke. He wasn’t a conversationalist, either. The silences between you felt heavier than they needed to, filled with the unspoken tension of two people trying to figure each other out.

He wasn’t oblivious to it. One evening, while you sat across from him in a cozy, dimly lit restaurant, your fork hovering over your plate, he tilted his head and raised a brow.

“You gonna stop acting like you’re walkin’ on eggshells around me, or do I need to pry it out of you?” he asked bluntly, his tone laced with teasing, though his crimson eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

Your fork clinked softly against the plate as you set it down, caught off guard. “I’m not walking on eggshells,” you retorted, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you.

His lips quirked in a knowing smirk. “Yeah, you are.” He leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Just say whatever’s on your mind. I’m not gonna bite.”

There was something disarming about the way he said it- gruff but sincere. His words loosened something inside you, and before you realized it, you were laughing, the tension in your shoulders melting away. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

“Don’t see the point,” he said with a shrug, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “It’s more fun when people are just themselves. So, quit overthinkin’ and just talk to me.”

It was easier said than done, but something about the way he said it- direct, no room for doubt- made you want to try. And so you did. Hesitantly at first, testing the waters with little anecdotes and random thoughts. But as the night went on, the words flowed more freely. You told him about your day, about things that annoyed you, things that made you laugh. And Katsuki listened.

Really listened.

He didn’t interrupt or interject with meaningless comments. He just let you talk, his eyes steady on yours, nodding here and there or throwing in a dry remark that made you laugh despite yourself. By the time the check came, the air between you felt lighter, less strained.

When he walked you to your door that night, hands shoved into his pockets and that familiar scowl softening just a fraction, you realized you were looking forward to the next time you’d see him.

Things between you shifted after that. Slowly, in small, subtle ways. Dinners turned into late-night conversations that carried over into texts throughout the week. Katsuki wasn’t the type to blow up your phone with messages, but when he did text, it was always something meaningful- or hilarious, though he’d never admit he was funny on purpose.

One night, he called out of the blue.

“Look outside,” he said gruffly, not even bothering with a greeting.

Confused, you walked to the window. Sure enough, there he was, standing on the sidewalk with a bag slung over one shoulder, his free hand holding up his phone.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, laughing as you opened the door and stepped outside to meet him.

“Thought you could use a break,” he said, holding up the bag. “Brought food. Don’t argue, just eat.”

It was simple, thoughtful gestures like that- the way he remembered little things you said, like your favorite snack or how you liked your coffee- that caught you off guard. He wasn’t trying to impress you; he was just... himself. Honest, genuine, and surprisingly caring in ways he’d never admit aloud.

The night it all came to a head was unplanned, much like the way your relationship had unfolded. You’d been feeling restless all day, the kind of itch beneath your skin that no amount of pacing or distractions could soothe. Katsuki must have noticed when he stopped by after work, because instead of sitting down like usual, he grabbed your hand.

“C’mon,” he said simply, tugging you toward the door.

“Where are we going?” you asked, though you didn’t resist, letting him lead you out into the cool night air.

“You’ll see.”

He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t push, curious despite yourself. He walked with purpose, his hand warm and solid around yours, guiding you through streets you didn’t recognize until you reached a quiet rooftop overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking- glittering lights stretching out as far as the eye could see, the hum of distant traffic a soothing backdrop.

“Wow,” you breathed, stepping closer to the edge to take it all in.

Katsuki leaned against the railing, watching you instead of the view. “Thought you might like it,” he said after a moment, his voice softer than usual.

You glanced back at him, your chest tightening at the way he looked at you. “I do. It’s beautiful.”

He stayed quiet for a beat, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting yours again. “You’ve been outta it lately,” he said, his tone careful. “Figured you needed to get outta your head for a bit.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You swallowed the lump in your throat, the weight of his attention- his care- making it hard to speak. “Thank you,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, though the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

The silence stretched, comfortable now, as you both watched the city lights. But something was shifting between you, unspoken but undeniable. You felt it in the way he stood closer than before, his shoulder brushing against yours. In the way his crimson eyes softened when they met yours.

“Katsuki,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “why do you... do all this? For me, I mean.”

He stiffened slightly but didn’t look away. “Why wouldn’t I?” he said, his tone defensive, like the answer was obvious. “You’re important to me.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Your breath caught, and before you could stop yourself, you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. He stared at your joined hands, his expression unreadable, before squeezing back.

“You’re important to me too,” you said softly, the words carrying more weight than you expected.

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by the glow of the city, something between you clicked. There were no fireworks, no dramatic declarations, but as Katsuki leaned in, his forehead brushing gently against yours, you realized you didn’t need them. This- his warmth, his presence- was more than enough.

[tetzoro]

SLOW MORNINGS — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. kuroo tetsuro !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : after two years, you finally agreed to move in with kuroo and after your first night together, kuroo reflects on his perspective of love — and how much you’ve influenced it.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : fluff, fluff, fluff ! — WC : 1k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : this was lost in the abyss on kuroosdarling but i rescued this cheesy lil piece. enjoy !! dividers by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

love was something kuroo always found in fiction.

whether it would be from the stories his grandmother used to read to him as she tucked him into bed, her sweet voice filling his mind with a longing desire to one day have even a fraction of that love.

or in the books his father swore he didn’t own but yet somehow found themselves nestled in between the self help and business books that collected dust on his bookshelf. the tattered covers showing signs of wear and tear that could only come from a devoted reader.

but he never thought he’d make it here and experience a moment like this for himself. he never thought that this was something he’d ever even want at all. relationships had always been pushed back into the far corner of his heart, the fear from his parents ultimate brutal destruction overshadowed his desire for it.

so he never chased after love.

but then you chased after him. and he couldn’t help but welcome you in his arms. you were everything he never thought he needed. you brought peace and serenity into his life. kept him grounded, balanced but still somehow always knew how to push his buttons and keep him on his toes at the same time.

you were the perfect partner for him.

the day he met you, he had no idea how much you were going to infiltrate his life. you went behind enemy lines, storming towards his heart all without making a noise. the perfect stealth attack that left him questioning if he ever had any defenses to begin with.

but he supposed that all boiled down to a simple fact. he could act blind all he wanted, but his soul knew better, for it was the very thing that led you right into his heart, letting you steal it and make it yours.

he was just happy that it was finally in safe hands.

it all brought him crashing down to this moment — seeing your toothbrush innocently sitting next to his in the little ceramic glass by the bathroom sink. the little reminder that showed he shared his space with someone, actually letting them into every crevice of his heart. the thought had him getting a little emotional at 6 in the morning.

because he could easily look over to his right, through the opened bathroom door and see you still peacefully asleep in his bed — your shared bed. and it warmed his heart to no end.

as if you could sense his thoughts, you shift awake, watching him as he stared back at you.

“morning tetsu.” you whisper into the otherwise silent apartment. it took him a second to process the words as they spilled from your lips, watching as you slowly get up and stretch in a way that reminded him of a cat when they first rise from their slumber.

“morning sweetheart.” he smiles, his toothbrush haphazardly hanging out of the side of his mouth. you giggled at the sight, causing his grin to spread wider — wide enough for it to slip out of his mouth and into his hand. his reflexes from volleyball always came in handy when he needed it most. but he supposed he still looked like a fool in front of you — you just had that effect on him.

“you still asleep in there or something?” you ask, teasing him as you wander into the bathroom, wiping some toothpaste off his cheek before wrapping your arms around his bare waist.

“tell me, is it possible to get too much beauty sleep? because you’ve never looked more gorgeous.” he murmurs back, his large hand covering yours as he held your gaze in the mirror. he relished in the flustered expression you tried to hide as your face burrowed between his shoulder blades.

“so cheesy this early? my oh my, we’re off to a good start.” you giggle, your lips pressing against his bare back as the sound escapes you, sending chills all throughout him.

“you better believe it.” he smirks, happily leaning back into your touch. “how’d you sleep?”

“i slept great.” you poke your head out from behind him, smiling as you met his gaze in the mirror once again. it was hard for him not to immediately match your smile, the light in your eyes already brightening the dawn of the day. so he didn’t bother to fight it as his lips lifted upward. “our first night together in the apartment.”

“our apartment.” he quickly corrected, his palm patting your hand soothingly.

“our apartment.” you repeat. you pivot so you’re next to him, lightly bumping his hip with yours so he’d step to the side, giving you some room in the cramped space. you reach over and grab your toothbrush, the very one he was so caught up in only moments ago.

the quiet space now filled with life as you start your morning routine. he resumes brushing his teeth, watching each step you take.

how could something so mundane fill him with such joy?

your pretty eyes meet his in the mirror once again as you start brushing, slightly widening them in surprise under his watchful gaze.

and you were just so cute, sleep still clinging onto your sweet features as if you were internally fighting to stay awake. the two of you had plenty of sleepovers prior to you moving in, but this felt different.

this was the start of your lives together.

and it made him happy. so happy that he couldn’t help but chuckle, watching your face scrunch up at the strong minty toothpaste he used.

you couldn’t hold back your laughter either, lovingly looking at him through the mirror as your shared giggles fill the room.

if this was the first day to the rest of your lives together, he knew it would be filled with nothing but love. the kind of love he thought only existed in cliche movies and sappy poems. the kind in the bedtime stories his grandmother would read to him. the kind he found between the annotated pages of his father’s books.

but he found all of that within you, the love of his life.

thank you so much for reading :3

[yearninflowers]

Imagine...

Sunday loving you so much.

Rumours will always surround every renowned person in the world, whether that someone is the nicest person ever or even the opposite of that. But somehow, for your friend, Sunday, whom almost everyone in Penacony City knows, the rumours surrounding him didn't always make a lot of sense. Shouldn't one or two be true, or at least close to a truth, though?

You eventually began to ask him frequently if something stirred in his community.

It was mostly just for fun, however.

“Sunny, is this true?”

And as always, he would smile, reassuring you that none of the rumours surrounding him were true.

Sunday would first laugh at the absurdity of the rumours before patting your head and telling you to always confirm where the rumours even started. If not most, then all of them were always coming from some unknown source and were just following to create even more nonsense, said him. That would shut you up real quick, not that you would start to distrust him if a rumour popped up.

However, one particular rumour shook you off quite a bit.

A rumour about him having relations with a cult. An anonymous sender had thrown out a couple of blurred pictures as ‘evidence’ and uploaded them to a fairly well-known account used to share anonymous messages.

It was absurd, but you still asked.

“Sunny,” you called out his name, your phone hovering open to the account that shared the rumour. Once your friend notices your call, you let him take a look at your phone. “There's a rumour saying you have relations with a cult; is it… uh, true?”

This time, Sunday didn't immediately smile. He didn't reassure you right away. His face looked unlike what you knew of him.

He... he looks scary—

It took at least a few seconds before he did his usual smile and reassured you that none of the rumours surrounding him were true. He began to laugh like always, patting your head like always, telling you to check the source like always.

And like always too, you believed him. After all, it's the usual absurd rumour, right?

Before you eventually swallow the whole rumour as wrong information, Sunday had a hard time keeping up his facade. His smile twitched unusually more, and his hands trembled unknowingly. It felt weird, the feelings inside his heart, but he wasn't too bothered by it. In fact, he even welcomed it.

Truth be told, it wasn't fear that was holding him restricted.

It was excitement.

Sunday is dying to let you know that you are his sole Providence, the only being in the whole world he would pray to. He could go days without stopping—not even a short rest—to bask in his devotion for you. He will gladly do anything to make you happy.

Unfortunately for him, you've yet to know of his faith; you're still so clueless about his blatant favouritism. It's alright, though; Sunday is quite keen on teaching his deity how to receive his love one day.

“It's quite a slander to accuse me of being in a cult," He let out a small laugh. "But I assure you, (Y/n), I would never be a part of something as eerie as that.”

After all, the only being he would ever worship is you.

But for now, he'll play the part of being your very perfect friend, slowly wrapping you into the warm embrace of divinity. You'll know soon enough that you are worth more than just being his 'friend'. You, yourself, are already surrounded by the evidence of his devotion in its truest form:

His love.

[oceantornadoo]

ch 1 of the wrong john: masterlist | next

john price x f!reader (johnny's twin)

--

You figure one whiskey in the fancy bar across from your hotel can’t hurt.

Johnny put you up in a nice hotel, considerate with all the travel and logistics it took to get here. Two days of your PTO gone, an almost-argument with the gate agent who lost your luggage, chasing down an AirTag with said luggage, and a very uncomfortable taxi ride. But it was fine. It was for Johnny.

Johnny: the brother, the twin, you hadn’t seen face-to-face in over a year. The one who got in a screaming match with your Catholic family last Christmas over who he can love. Nevermind the sacrifices he makes for the safety of the world, it’s where he puts his dick that matters to them. You told him it was bullshit and thus remained the only family member he contacts. You were worried for a second that he’d group you in with them, would sever your holy twin connection for it, but you should have remembered who you were thinking about. If anything, you’d do that to Johnny before he did it to you, a fact you both pretended did not exist. That scrappy self-awareness that somehow only you had been born with, mistaking protection with isolation. So when he said he had a slow week, said he had a partner (a boyfriend!) he wanted you to meet, you couldn’t say no. That was as good as siding with your family.

The meeting was tomorrow (“1000 sharp, m'eudail. Come t’ base an’ we’ll show ye around. Yer gonna love Simon, ‘es all claws like you.”) For the oddest reason, you were nervous. It wasn’t like Johnny needed his family’s approval, if anything, you needed to meet the approval of his found family. The one he created when he left, the one he was slowly opening to you like a secret garden. One sense of a parasite and the gate would be locked forever. He never said as much, too happy-go-lucky for that, but you could sense the protectiveness behind his words during glitchy monthly phone calls. “Price, Gaz, an’ there’s the L.T. Calls himself Ghost but ‘es more bark tha’ bite. You’ll see, m'eudail.” And so you ordered a whiskey to quell the nerves.

“Miss, a drink for you.” The bartender placed a gin and tonic down that was certainly not what you ordered. “I’m sorry, I wanted a whiskey? You can take this back, I haven’t touched it, I swear.” He shook his head, reaching down to grab a whiskey glass. “‘S from the gentleman on the corner. Told me to say our gin is better than our whiskey, which I disagree with, but whatever pays the tips.” He placed a glass of whiskey (on the rocks) in front of you. “Both are on the house, courtesy of your admirer. Let me know if ya need anything or he bothers you.” You nodded your thanks, glancing around for this mystery man. The bar wasn’t too packed but with a game of football on, there were more single men than not.

Finally, you felt a pair of eyes on you, sticking to the back of your head like honey. You turn and there he is, icy blue eyes and a lumberjack look, bearded in flannel. He’s broad and he knows it, carrying himself with the grace of self-confidence. To add to it, he’s sitting alone in a back corner table, perfect view of all exits (like how Johnny told you to look for one tipsy night eons ago.) When you catch his eyes, he raises a glass, giving you a glimpse of hands you want to examine. Are they soft or worn? What about his beard? You promised yourself a drink to settle you nerves, a bubble bath and lights out before 11, but he’s throwing a wrench into your plans. It feels like foreshadowing, to what you don’t know.

“Bit rude to tell the bartender you don’t like his whiskey. Doesn’t give a good first impression.” Somehow, your feet took you over to his table without your permission. You’re standing while he’s sitting and somehow you’re still tilting your head to meet his eyes. They’re darker than they were on first glance, swimming with something that sends a shiver down your spine. You purposefully take a sip of whiskey, your gin and tonic abandoned at the bar, to will that feeling away.

“Jus’ givin’ some advice to a pretty traveler. Can’t have y’ thinkin’ this part of London has no drinks f’ a woman like you.” You find a gray hair in his beard and track it to the curve of his lips as he speaks, taking in the small details you couldn’t see from the bar. Like the way his eyes crinkle in a world-weary manner or the gruffness of his tone, like he’s used to giving orders rather than initiating conversation. It’s your new mission to unpeel the layers of this man tonight.

“And how did you know I’m a traveler? Could be a local for all you know.” He snorts, and in any other man, the arrogance would put you off, but it’s somehow attractive on him. “Well, sweetheart, everyone’s payin’ attention t’ Arsenal playin’ an’ y’ve barely given ‘em a glance. And any local worth their salt knows the whiskey here is watered down an’ grimy.” You take a sip of your drink, again, to prove a point, biting back a grimace at the taste. You can’t let him win.

“Does that make you a local?” Gracefully, he ignores how you could barely swallow down the last drop in your cup. Instead of answering, he signals the bartender for two gin and tonics, then gestures at you to sit in the other seat at his table. His silent command, and consequential dismal of your question, pulls at a string in your belly you didn’t know existed. Perhaps it’s the whiskey.

“Nah, ‘v been around. Been in London for work a while an’ hav’ learned about whiskey choices the hard way. And you? Not from ‘ere, can tell by the accent.” You write that down in your imaginary notebook, hoping a whiskey enthusiast doesn’t equal a reliance on alcohol. You’re fast to determine red flags, especially with strangers. “From Scotland but haven’t been home in a while so the accent’s a bit over the place. What’s your work?”

He takes a sip of the newly arrived gin and tonic, savoring the taste with his tongue. It darts out to catch a drop the edge of his lip and you’re hit with visions of where else he could put it. God, you don’t even know his name yet. “Security consultant. Protectin’ whatever they pay me to protect. An’ you?” It’s a lie. His eyes don’t stray from your face but your bullshit-o-meter is ringing somewhere. You let him have it, deciding a lie for a lie is the best way to go.

“I’m interviewing with a company around here, so I’m currently in between jobs. But I trade in corporate bullshit.” He chuckles, smooth and low like good whiskey, and it’s enough that you forgive the lie, letting it gather dust in the back of your mind. “My name’s John, sweetheart. An’ yours?” You murmur it sweet and slow, fluttering your lashes to lock in the deal. It’s near 10 now, and you don’t want to be yawning when you meet Johnny tomorrow. You have a feeling the man in front of you could keep you up all night if you let him.

John pulls your chair into his until your thighs are slotted in between each other like puzzle pieces. “Got any plans tonight?” You shake your head no, pressing your leg into his own. The harsh denim of his jeans scrapes against your well-worn ones, reminding you of how rugged he seems. You want to see how untamed he can be, and your panties dampen at the thought.

“Well, John,” you overemphasize the last syllable of his name to make sure he’s paying attention. “My hotel is across the street if you need to expand your London knowledge. Really give you that local aura.” His thumb grazes your knee, stroking against the grain pattern. “Sounds good t’ me, sweetheart. Let’s give it a go.”

–

Few thoughts:

m'eudail - my darling, my dear

The base is on the outskirts of London but the hotel is in the city because I said so.

I don’t know anything about London football, Arsenal was the first team that showed up. Thanks google

This was all build up but the next chapter will have some smut! 

This is more for a plot based audience so here’s my AO3 if you’d like to subscribe

Comment if you want to be tagged 🙂

[bitchface24-7]

Can you do Jayce and Viktor finding out that one of them got reader pregnant (Viktor thinks there’s no way he could got reader pregnant because of sickness) but when the baby is born they look just like Viktor?

OOPS… - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: y’all fucked up, literally and figuratively. You’re pregnant. You didn’t plan for this, even though you should’ve; y’all fuck like rabbits. But now you’re at the end of your pregnancy, you can’t help but wonder which one of your partners knocked you up.

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of morning sickness, changes in appetite/appearance, weird cravings, giving birth (not detailed), pre-established relationship (YALL ARE MARRIED) Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/m/f

p.s. cute and funny request… may I pray this never finds me. I'd probably only get pregnant for them and they're not real. To any reader who's experienced this and or has kids, you're a trooper and I salute you, cause fuck that!

The three of you had an accident you can't help but think as you look at a positive pregnancy test. Most babies are oopsie babies, you comfort yourself.

You never planned for this, this was never in your equation. But you feel a small sense of fondness, its proof of your love; your boys.

You wish somehow this baby was both of theirs. They could have Viktor’s eyes, Jayce's nose, your smile. They'd be perfect. But that's impossible, so only of your lovers knocked you up.

You wonder who did it.

Oh well… now you gotta break the news to them first. Then you can speculate who fertilized one of your eggs.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Essentially ten months pass by in a flash. Your stomach gets bigger and bigger, your back and feet ache, you can’t stop throwing up the first trimester, your cravings are wild and your boys get you whatever you want no matter the time. Even if it’s dead at night.

Everything was normal that day until your water broke. You three rushed to the hospital and got set up in a delivery room. Jayce and Viktor are nervous, pacing, and worriedly looking at you. Giving birth can be incredibly dangerous, and they don’t want to lose you.

They’re by your side the whole time, holding your hand, putting a cold towel on your head, motivating you. They made the process as easy as they could. The three of you even joke around.

“I can’t wait to see which one of you knocked me up.”

Jayce and Viktor choke a bit before laughing, “It could be either of us honestly. We’re kinda like rabbits.”

“Jayce!”

“What?”

“It’s probably Jayce’s. I can’t imagine my illness makes it good for my own fertility.” Viktor adds quietly. His tone low and a bit melancholic. You and Jayce look at him and deny his statement. “You don’t know that! Have you been gotten tested or is it an assumption?”

“Assumption.”

Then you scream, and your boys panic pressing the call button on the side of your bed. Two nurses rush in and ask to check your dilation, you agree.

One nurse checks, then the other nurse. One states you’re fully dilated and the other rushes to call for the doctor.

Now it’s time to deal with one of the most painful moments of your life.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You’re panting, your entire body hurts, and you think you may have broken Jayce’s hand. It’s all worth it when you hear your baby cry.

“It’s a healthy boy! Congratulations!” A nurse says as she lightly cleans your baby, making sure not to let the fluid from birth stay on his skin for too long; we don’t want him to become hypothermic.

She hands your baby to you and his cries immediately cease. He looks up to you and you gasp lightly. He’s Viktor’s. He’s 100000000% Viktor’s.

They’re identical.

You tear up lightly and sniffle. It’s like looking into a tiny mirror of your partner. Same eyes, even though babies are typically born with blue eyes; your baby has Viktor’s golden eyes. Same eyebrow shape, same nose, same lips. They even share the same beauty mark by their eye.

You laugh a bit and your boys look over to your tiny boy. Jayce’s eyes widen as he chuckles, and pats Viktor on his shoulder. Viktor just stands there speechless.

“I carried you for essentially ten months and you come out looking just like your daddy? You’re perfect!” You coo at your baby, your baby coos back at you and you have to hold back a squeal.

“You can’t have kids, huh?” Jayce jokes and Viktor grumbles. Viktor’s demeanour isn’t very scary due to his beaming smile as he looks down at his baby. Your baby. Jayce’s baby.

“So, what’re we naming him?”

You blank for a second. Shit, you didn’t think of that. Oops.

“I never planned on having kids, so I never planned any names.”

Viktor looks blankly at you, “Me neither.”

The two of you look at Jayce. He shrugs lightly, “I didn’t expect to have kids but I did come up with names when I was younger. I always liked James for a boy, and Rose for a girl.”

“You romantic. Rose, really?”

“At least I thought of names, leave me alone Viktor.”

You giggle at them, “James it is. James Talis. It does sound nice huh?”

Viktor and Jayce stop bickering and look at you with hearts in their eyes. Oh, it’s official. You’re now four.

Welcome to the world, James Talis. You’re already loved more than you could ever imagine.

The only men I’d give birth for. Hope y’all liked this!! Love ya ❤️

[feyhunter78]

Three Times Buck Wanted to Sleep with You (and the One Time He Did)

Description: Three times Buck had to hold himself back and the one time he didn't, (but it's not what he thinks, and somehow maybe better?)

Part 2!

Buck is pretty sure if he ever slept with you, Maddie would kill him, though she’d have to dig him up first because Hen would put him six feet under before he could even blink. So, he tries very hard to not sleep with you, and he’ll admit as the year has gone by and the two of you have gotten closer it’s gotten easier. He finds himself craving the sound of you laughing at his dumb jokes, your comforting presence next to him in the kitchen, or even just you bossing him around, more than he craves the feeling of your skin against his.

More than the idea of how good you’d look lying in his sheets, wearing nothing but his jacket. But then you do something. Squeeze his thigh in an innocent, friendly way. Groan his name in annoyance, or pout up at him when you’re trying to get your way, and the urges return full force, leaving him wondering if he can claw himself out of the grave Hen will put him in.

One: It’s only been a few months into his job, he's bouncing back from Bobby's second warning and forgivenss, riding high on the adrenaline. He’s only known you for six months and honestly Buck thinks he might be cursed, or maybe you’re secretly trying to make him suffer.

It's one of the two because he's pulled away from picking the perfect song to start his drive with by you banging on the driver’s side window of his jeep wearing nothing but a bikini top and incredibly short shorts. He rolls down the window, swallowing hard as you cross your arms over your chest, unintentionally pushing your breasts up.

“Buck, are you serious? You can’t just drive off without me.” You huff, adjusting the beach bag on your shoulder. You’re standing on the sidestep of his jeep, and it puts him face to chest with you.

“Oh I, uh, I thought you were going with Hen?” Buck says, trying not to stumble over his words like an idiot.

You look so good, it’s unfair, and that bathing suit top is cute, too cute for the way it makes his mouth water. It’s pink with white hearts all over it, your hair is pulled back, oversized sunglasses rest on your nose, your beach bag has some cartoon drawing of a margarita wearing sunglasses on it. But the worst part, the worst, are the light wash denim shorts clinging to your thighs. Fuck, he just wants to grab them, wear them like earmuffs until you’re trembling in his grip, and he’s drank his fill.

You shake your head, and lean on his windowsill, the scent of your perfume, or maybe that’s just what your skin smells like, suddenly overwhelming his senses, scattering any coherent thought he might have had. “She said there wasn’t enough room, Danny wanted to bring a friend with him. Didn’t she text you?”

Hen probably had, but he’s been so focused on psyching himself up to go to the beach with everyone, including you—without begging you to let him fuck you in a changing room—that he hasn’t even checked his messages.

“Yeah, probably, just been busy. Hop in.” He unlocks the passenger side door, giving into his impulses just enough to watch as you round the car, his dark sunglasses hiding the way he traces your every curve with his eyes.

You smile as you slide into the seat and buckle yourself in. “Okay, let’s go, beach time!” Your voice has a singsong tone, and it makes his heart melt.

“Beach time.” He echoes, turning the radio on to drown out the voice in his head urging him to ask if you want to take a detour to his backseat.

Two: It’s his birthday, and while the crew has made a big deal out of it, he doesn’t expect you to. Doesn’t expect you to be at his door with a cake, singing happy birthday, surprisingly well. The candles are lighting up your face in such a way that he feels like he’s in a movie, and everything is zooming in on you, only you, like he’s got tunnel vision, and you’re at the end of it.

“Make a wish!” You cheer, leaning on his kitchen counter, the cake between you two.

He bends down and blows, watching the flames flicker out in an instance, small whips of smoke rising then dissipating into the air.

“Twenty-six, it’s a big number, feel any different?” You ask, looking at him over the cake with your stupidly beautiful eyes that shine with genuine curiosity.

He cuts a slice of cake for you and then himself, putting them on paper plates and sliding yours across to you.

You catch it, and thank him, waiting for him to take a bite, or answer, probably answer.

“Not at all.” He says, taking a bite of the cake for good measure.

You laugh, “I doubt I’ll feel any different on my birthday either.”

“It’s in a few months, right?”

You nod, and take a bite of your own, moaning softly. “Oh, wow, okay, this cake is really good.”

Your moan goes straight to his cock, and he’s glad the island is between you two, blocking your view.

“Yeah, yeah it’s great, thanks again, you really didn’t have to get me anything.”

You lean on your elbow, giving him an incredulous look. “Of course I did, it’s your birthday and come on you’re like the first real friend—no wait that’s Hen, the first person to look out for—no that’s Athena, you’re a nice gu—wait that sounds bad.” You cover your face with your hands, laughing embarrassedly. “Let me start over.”

He laughs and takes another bite of his cake; it is pretty good. “Go for it.”

“Of course I did, Buck, not just because it’s your birthday, but because I wanted to. I wanted to celebrate you, and thank you for going out of your way for me when I first moved here and for changing the batteries in my smoke alarm and making me laugh when my dates end up sucking, and just being a good guy, that I can trust and count on.”

His heart is pounding in his chest, and his pants are growing tight. You haven’t said anything he hasn’t heard before more or less; you haven’t even said anything technically hot, but somehow, it’s different, it means more, has more layers when you say it. He pinches himself and tries to think about safe, nonsexual things, old books, his grandma, cleaning mud off the truck, white bread, cake, your little moan when you tasted the cake—nope, nope something else, think of something else.

You peek at him through your hands when he doesn’t say anything. “Sorry, that was cheesy, wasn’t it?”

He wants to say, no it was perfect, can you say it again while you ride me? Also, I think I do need to see a therapist because I’m pretty sure I’m getting turned on by emotional intimacy and that’s a new revelation for me. But he doesn’t, instead he skewers another bite of cake on his fork and gives you a teasing smile. “Yeah, a little bit.”

You pout up at him. “Rude.”

He bites his tongue to keep from bending to your will and bending you over the island, instead pointing out with a shrug. “You asked.”

You roll your eyes and take another bite of cake. "I take back every nice thing I said."

Three: He’s tasked with driving over to Athena’s precinct to pick you up. It’s not something he’s ever done before, but Hen slaps him on the shoulder and tells him to get there ASAP before someone gets hurt. He’s not worried about you, Hen made it clear you’re not in any danger, just that it was going to take more than Athena’s stern words to get you to stand down. He’s actually curious, you’re not one to cause a scene or argue with Athena unless you really thought she was wrong, and he’s seen that happen maybe twice?

Buck hates to admit it, but the scene he walks in on…turns him on.

“You know what? You’re just a greedy hack who preys on the hopes and fears of poor, innocent people. You want my professional opinion? You can go fuck yourself.” You snarl, holding your head high as you glare at some white dude with a tarot card tattoo crawling up his forearm, and a feather earring.

“Dr. Y/L/N, please, I have to ask you and Mr. Chester to leave.” Athena says calmly, jerking her head towards you when she sees Buck.

“No, I’m sorry, Sergeant Grant, but I can’t walk away when this conman is trying to ply your victims with false hope.” Your arms down by your side, fingers flexing ever so slightly, and you’re tense like you’re going to lunge at the dude.

“Conman? You’re a psychologist, we all know psychology is fake,” Chester scoffs.

Buck rolls his shoulders back; this is not going to be good.

You laugh, high-pitched and mocking. “Fake? Fake? You’re the fake. Fake as that earring, and your claims of studying with shamans in the desert. Newsflash asshole, I looked you up. All you’ve got is a clip-on earring and an arrest for public intoxication from when you and your little business major buddies did ayahuasca on the Santa Monica pier.”

Buck stifles a laugh, and Athena glares at him, urging him forward. He does as she silently asks and makes his way to you, raising an eyebrow when his eyes meet yours.

“You can't understand my vision quest, you weren’t there,” Chester shoots back.

You laugh again, and Buck thinks maybe it’ll be okay, but then you snatch Chester’s earring from his ear and throw it to the floor, the plastic clip breaking off and skittering across the floor. “This man is a fraud, ladies and gentlem—”

“Yeah, okay, time to go y/n.” Buck says, as he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder, large hands keeping you secure as you try to wriggle out of his hold.

“Don’t listen to this charlatan, trust the good men and women of the LAPD they will help you, not some hack psychic!” You continue, and Buck can all but feel your eyes burning a hole in Chester as he carries you out of the station.

“Charlatan? What is this, the eighteen hundreds?” Buck snorts, his hands warm where they hold you, his skin tingling at the points of contact. You weigh nothing to him; it’s like holding a pillow, and the thought of how easy it would be to toss you onto his bed makes him bite down on his tongue.

“Shut up. That guy comes in all the time and promises the world, but he never delivers. I hate people like him, who take advantage of the vulnerable, it’s just not right.” You grumble, as he keeps one arm pressed against your legs while opening his car door for you with his free hand.

He gently sets you in the seat and buckles you in. “It’s not, but you can’t just try to fistfight him in the middle of a police station.”

You roll your eyes and smooth down your hair in the visor mirror. “I wasn’t going to fistfight him, I’m not crazy.”

“Sure, you weren’t.”

“Just drive.” You snap, turning away from him to look out the window.

“Someone’s a little bossy.” He jokes, putting his jeep into reverse.

You turn away from the window, fire in your eyes. “You wanna see bossy, I’ll show you bossy.”

Fuck, he wishes you would. He’d love to see you riled up and demanding, your nails scraping against his scalp as you yank his head forward.

“Maybe later.” He says, switching gears and driving away from the station.

The one time:  Buck rubs his eyes, groaning as he blindly reaches for his vibrating phone, it’s two in the morning, he just got home from a double shift, somebody better be dead or dying. He winces at the brightness of his screen and scans the multitude of messages, but it’s the most recent one that catches his attention.

Y/N: Need yuo come over?????!!??

He rubs his eyes harder, there’s no way you texted him that. No damn way.

Y/N: Buck

Y/N: Buck

Y/N: Evan Bucckely

Y/N: Come obrr

He sits up, dragging a hand down his face. Maybe you’re drunk? You’re usually a stickler for proper spelling and grammar. He goes to text back asking that very question when a voice message pops up. He turns up his sound and presses play.

“Buck please, you gotta come here, I need your help, I can’t do it by myself.” You whine, and all his blood runs south.

“Fuck.” He groans, trying to force himself to think about anything but what you might have looked like as you recorded that message.

“I need your skilled hands, mine just aren’t working.” You continue, and he bites down on his fist, all exhaustion banished. You sound so pretty, so desperate, so adorably needy, how can he ignore you, ignore your request?

He sends a quick text swearing he’ll be over in two minutes.

As he pulls on a t-shirt and sweatpants, he remembers how he thought it was a curse that you two lived in the same apartment complex. But now as he walks over, swinging his keys around his finger, he’s unbelievably glad.

Buck knocks on your door, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Hey, he gave it a good run, a solid year of holding himself back and not sleeping with you. But when you’re asking him directly, he's not going to say no. It would be rude to deny you something you so clearly need.

You pull the door open and grab him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him to the couch and plopping down before placing your high-heeled feet in his lap.

“Well, hello to you too.” He says, resting his hand on your shin, admiring the smoothness of your skin. You definitely went out, the heels, the tight black dress, the makeup, you look stunning, and he’s practically salivating.

“I can’t get them off.” You pout, tugging uselessly at the straps of your heels.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” He purrs, unbuckling one heel then the other before caressing your skin, his hands sliding higher until he grips your thighs.

Your eyes are slightly glassy, and you’re wearing the biggest, most adoring smile he’s ever seen as you sway in your spot. “You’re amazing, my hero.”

“How much you have to drink tonight, Y/N?” Buck asks, his training kicking in despite the lust that rages beneath his skin.

You clamor into his lap, looping your arms around his neck, the fabric of your dress riding up your plush thighs as you straddle him. “Buck, I thought you were a firefighter, not a cop.”

He chuckles and smoothes his hands down your side. “I am a firefighter, but I can also see you’ve been drinking.”

“Just a little bit.” You say, holding up one hand and pinching your fingers to show him how little you’ve had to drink. It would maybe be believable if you didn’t nearly lose your balance in the process.

“Oh yeah?” He hums, raising an eyebrow at you.

Your breath audibly catches in your throat, and you nod, “yeah.”

“Well, that’s too bad because I feel like you maybe had a lot to drink.”

You pout at him, and he bites his tongue to keep himself steady. You’re drunk, way too drunk, he’s not that kind of guy, he’s not going to take advantage of you no matter how badly he’s wanted this.

“Maybe a bit more than a little, but we were celebrating, and I haven’t gone out drinking in forever.” You stretch out the word forever, giving Buck a bright smile when he pats your outer thigh.

“Why don’t I help you get into bed, huh?”

You start to nod but stop yourself, the light dimming in your eyes as you begin to mumble to yourself.

Buck thinks he catches the words, but Maddie and places his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, hey, just to sleep, nothing else. You need to rest and let your body process all that alcohol.”

You nod, slide off him and onto the couch, laying back onto the cushions, your eyes already closing.

“Whoa, hey, not here, and not with your makeup still on.” He says, gently trying to get you to your feet.

“Too tired, carry me?” You ask so sweetly, he’s pretty sure he’d spend the rest of his life carrying you if you asked him to.

“Alright, come on, but you have to keep your eyes open, okay?” Buck says, slipping his arms underneath your form and lifting you from the couch.

“Okay, I promise…I will try.” You say, curling into him, resting your head on his chest.

That’s the best he’s going to get, judging by the way your breathing begins to even out, and your grip on his shirt loosens.

Now, if he spends some time gently cleaning the makeup from your face and waking you briefly so you can change into pajamas before carrying you to your bed, then no one needs to know that.

And if he stays by your side definitely because he’s worried about how hungover you’ll be tomorrow and definitely not because you sleepily insist, and he can’t resist you, that’s no one’s business.

And if he falls asleep in your bed with your head on his chest and his arm around your waist, his chest feeling weird, like he’s got butterflies or heartburn, then no one needs to know that either. He’ll just take the best sleep he’s had in a long time and deal with the consequences later.

No lie I have a whole /reader profile created for this man, just waiting to be unleashed

[illyrianbitch]

One Summer — Part Nine

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: One beach house. One festival. One summer to fall in love.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, marijuana usage, sweet dirty talk and praise, fingering, oral, p in v, fluffy sex <3

if you’re uncomfortable with smut, this chapter can be skipped with no impact on the plot <3 it can also be read as a stand-alone if desired.

Word Count: 4.7k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist |

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It was nine at night and you and Az were the only two in the house.

Rhys had made reservations for him and Feyre at an upscale restaurant half an hour away, a place where his father used to take his mother on special occasions. You'd been nosy and googled it. It was the kind of place with candlelit tables and a string quartet in the corner, where the waitstaff wore tuxedos and addressed you by title.

Mor and Cassian were out, too. The twins they’d met at Summit were staying in some house twenty minutes away and throwing a huge party. They tried to drag you and Az along, but the idea of squeezing into a crowded house with a bunch of strangers didn’t really compare to the night you had in mind. So you and Azriel had politely declined, both secretly craving something more enjoyable—smoking a fat joint and enjoying the quiet, just the two of you.

You sat on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs idly as Az finished preparing your snacks— the main thing that brought you both to the kitchen to begin with. Your mouth was still slightly dry from the joint, that earthy aftertaste still lingering in the back of your throat.

“This isn’t a conspiracy theory because it’s like, an actual thing,” you said, leaning back on your hands. “But I love the fact that so many of those sea monsters we read about were probably just whale penises.”

Azriel stilled, turning to look at you with an amused brow. “What?”

You nodded emphatically, cheeks aching from the deep smile still on your face. “People would see these giant, weird things sticking out of the water and think it was some sort of sea serpent or whatever, but it was actually just a whale showing off it’s huge dick.”

Azriel held your gaze for a moment before he burst out into laughter. The sound dissipated throughout the room and you swore it made it lighter, made the kitchen glow with a sense of life it didn't have a few moments prior. You weren't sure how it was possible, but somehow your smile grew even wider.

There was something about Azriel’s laugh that felt energizing, especially when you were high. It was something far more than just a sensory experience. You watched as he shook his head, the curls on his hair moving as his eyes found yours again. Slightly puffy, bright with amusement.

“I have to show you. It’s crazy.” You moved to grab your phone from its current place face-down on the counter next to you.

Azriel reached out and covered your hand with his. “Nooo.”

“Az, you have to.”

“Later, maybe.” His expression softened as he looked at you, the laughter fading into a tender smile. “But first, taste test time.”

You sat up straighter, looking down at the plate in front of him. “They’re ready?”

You’d had a specific craving—something sweet, gooey, and crunchy. Azriel had taken it upon himself to make your dream come true. He made do with what was in the pantry, melting down marshmallows and making a pan of small home-made rice krispy bars. He’d covered them with Nutella, rolling them up like some delicacy you’d find in a high-end bakery.

His smile widened, and without a word, he held one out for you. You eagerly accepted it, your fingers brushing against his before you brought the treat to your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed, and a moan left your lips as the sweet, rich flavors exploded on your tongue.

“How is it?”

You nodded, head bobbing as you took another gluttonous bite.

“It’s perfect,” you said, finally finding the strength to open your eyes and look at him. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

He chuckled softly, watching as you took another bite. “Yeah?”

You nodded again. “You could be a chef. I would pay you to stay in the kitchen, looking all pretty and making food for me.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “So a trophy chef.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

He laughed again, bringing his hands to either side of your thighs as he leaned in closer. “What happened to me being a spy, huh?”

You shrugged lightheartedly. “That too. Honestly, Az, you could be anything you wanted.”

He narrowed his eyes, brows furrowing slightly, the corners of his lips still curved in that half-smile that made your heart skip.

“Because I can make little treats?” He asked.

You cocked your head at him, running your gaze over his face. “Because you’re so good at putting yourself to the task at hand.”

Azriel blinked, and the crease between his brows softened. You watched as something crossed through his face, something wistful and warm.

“What?” you asked when he didn't speak.

“Nothing.”

You let your thoughts wander as you finished the treat in your hand. Everyone seemed to have a clear idea of what they wanted— or, at least, an idea of where their ambitions lied. But Azriel was different. He was like you. Hesitant, unsure. Back in freshman year, he’d taken a few criminology classes he loved. He had a passion then, but as the years went by you assumed he’d switched gears, choosing to focus on his general education classes instead. Azriel understood the pressure of fitting into a mold you weren't entirely sure about.

“What do you wanna do, Az?”

Azriel’s face grew thoughtful, his gaze scanning your face as if searching for something. His eyes flickered and then a smile, slow and soft, spread across his lips. He leaned in just a fraction closer. “I want to kiss you.”

You felt a rush of heat and looked down at your lap, nervously brushing your hands together. “That’s not what I meant.”

Azriel lifted your chin with a delicate finger, bringing your gaze to his. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes playfully. “No?”

His gaze flicked to somewhere below your eyes. A second later, he brought his thumb to the corners of your lips, gently wiping away what you knew was probably excess chocolate.You inhaled sharply and felt something deep in your chest – something like a wire strung tight, ready to sing with the slightest touch. You’d been craving him for so long now. You could feel that familiar sensation, that burning desire simmering low in your gut. The way those damn grey sweatpants hung on his hips didn’t help matters either.

His touch lingered on your skin, hovering just above your bottom lip. Before he could pull his hand away, you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking off the remaining chocolate.

Azriel’s breath hitched, lips parting in surprise. The low groan that left his lips next invigorated you, pushing you to bring your tongue around his thumb, swirling and sucking on it. When he met your gaze, you slowly released it, and he traced it along your bottom lip as a shaky breath escaped him.

“We have the house to ourselves."

With darkened eyes, Az ran his thumb along your lips again, swallowing hard. You traced the motion down the column of his throat. Before you could fully register the loss of his touch, his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. You gasped as he positioned himself between your legs, and instinctively, you wrapped them around him.

"Az.."

He closed the gap between you, lips crashing against yours as he kissed you deeply. You weren't sure if you'd ever get used to it. Perhaps it was a very strong honeymoon period, that the way Az kissed you felt magical because it had only been two weeks of this. But you felt starved, felt as if you needed more and more of him to satiate you— yet even still, you were insatiable.

You nipped at his lower lip, moved yourself to press against him further. You let him take the lead, letting out a breathy moan against his lips at the feeling of his skin pressed against yours. His kisses moved from your lips to your neck and you arched into him, welcomed him with a bared throat and a tug to his curls. His touch was everywhere at once—his hands roaming over your back, his lips trailing down your collarbone. Your body sang with every movement, with the feeling of his mouth on your skin.

You could feel the heat of his breath against you as he nipped and kissed his way to your ear.

“Do we want to go upstairs?”

You nodded before words could form. Nodded as you tangled your fingers further into his hair, nodded as you pulled him to your face, bringing him into another kiss. "Yes," you whispered between breaths. “Yes, please."

Azriel’s smile brushed against your skin as he kissed you back.

You made your way up the stairs, every step wobbly and uncoordinated as Az attempted to lead you both, lips still locked, his hands around your waist and yours around his neck.

"Shit." Azriel cursed as he bumped against the well, the pictures frames rattling with the impact. You pulled back, steadying yourself against the wall as your laughter bubbled up.

"Az," you playfully scolded through a breath, "You're going to knock everything down."

He only shushed you with a mischievous smile, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you back into his orbit. Another frame tilted askew as he maneuvered you both along. You pulled away for a moment, your gaze falling to the framed photo in front of you, the one you'd come to love so dearly. It got better every time you saw it, from the pizza in Mor's braces to the nauseatingly sweet frame of awkward fifteen year old Azriel.

"I love this photo," you said, pointing to it with a delicate smile. "Look at you."

Azriel glanced at it, his face scrunching in mock horror. "That’s a horrendous photo," he said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. He broke apart, shaking his head against yours. "Don’t look at it."

"But Az—"

"Don’t look!" He insisted, and you laughed into his kiss.

"I love hearing you laugh," Azriel murmured against your lips, "And that I'm the one causing it." He kissed you again. "But right now," he said, his voice dropping to a low, heated murmur, "I’d much rather be making you moan.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You melted into his touch, feeling your skin set alight as his hands roamed, his lips pressing against yours with a hunger that tasted of deep desire, something sweet and smoky like longing. The touch of a lover craving another.

You stumbled together into your room— the nearest one to the stairs, and the door slammed shut behind you. Azriel fumbled with the strings of his waistband, fingers slipping as he struggled to undo the knot.

"Ah, fuck," he said, voice still tinged with that sense of amusement, that laugh still in his tone. A few seconds later, his sweats were halfway down his leg, tangling around his ankles as he tried to kick them off.

"Careful," you warned, trying to stifle your laughter. Azriel then watched, amused, as you struggled to pull off your shirt, the fabric snagging on your earrings. And when you'd managed to free yourself, your hands were on him, slipping under his shirt, curious fingers skimming over the hard planes of his stomach. You tugged the fabric over his head, taking in the grin that played on his lips.

The shirt sailed through the air, landing haphazardly on your bedside lamp. You and Az laughed, a shared sound that he swallowed as he pulled you into another kiss. His hands were on you, guiding you back, and you were both still laughing as you fell back onto your bed in a tangle of limbs, all clothes besides his underwear long removed and thrown in a corner. Azriel leaned over you, face flushed, eyes filled with warmth.

"Hey," he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You laughed, biting your lip as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until your noses almost touched. "Hey," you repeated, like a schoolgirl with a crush.

"I really like you."

Azriel's voice was soft, a whisper that felt as soulful as a Sunday confession. It caressed your skin, made your heart flutter and core clench.

"Good to know," you said with a dainty smile. "I like you too."

A smile broke out across Az's face and you brought a trailing hand to feel the dimples on his cheeks, tracing the smile lines etched into his skin. You were completely naked below him now. Strangely, you'd never felt this comfortable, never felt so at ease. Your fingers brushed against the cool metal of the chain necklace hanging around his neck. You played with it absentmindedly, feeling the smooth links sliding between your fingers.

You tugged at it lightly as you murmured, "And I also like this."

"Yeah?"

You nodded, still running your fingers along the chain, feeling the heat of his skin just beneath it. You weren't sure how it was possible for a piece of jewelry to be so attractive, for simple metal to make you picture the dirtiest of images. But it was. And you had been. You weren't ashamed to admit that you'd imagined how it would feel dangling in your face as Az pounded into you. You finally met his eyes and nodded, breathless despite having done nothing but trace the cool metal around his neck. "Yeah."

Azriel’s eyes darkened, the playful warmth in them shifting into something deeper, hungrier. His smile curved into a smirk. "Good," he rasped, and your breath hitched at the intensity in his voice.

His lips were on yours again. Gone was the soft, teasing rhythm from before. Now, his mouth was hot and demanding, as if he were starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. The sudden switch from sweet to searing made your heart race. You tugged on the chain again, more forcefully this time, and he growled in response, fingers eagerly tracing the outline of your body. You shivered with each touch, with each drag of his hands across your skin.

His hand found your breast, exposed to the cool air, and you shuddered as his ridged fingers tweaked your nipple. You arched beneath him and he paused for a moment, lips hovering just above yours.

“Tell me what you like,” he whispered.

Your mind raced, the words catching in your throat as you tried to form a coherent thought. You wanted him everywhere, wanted him to explore you for hours, to ruin you for the touch of anyone else. You shook your head, breathing heavily, trying with all your might to summon an answer.

"I-I don't know."

He shook his head, leaning in to brush his lips against yours in invitation. He said something else, something quieter and alluring, a sentence probing you to answer, to think.

"Please just touch me," you managed to breathe as your gaze bounced between his eyes. "I just want you to touch me."

Azriel's lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Like this?” he asked, beginning to move down as his hand slid down your exposed stomach.

“Yes,” you said, your body reacting to his touch. “And kiss me."

"Kiss you where?"

He was beneath your navel now, the trail of his path wet with the open kisses he'd left. You took a shaky breath. "Everywhere."

He chuckled softly against the bare skin of your leg. “Everywhere, huh?”

You nodded, unable to find the words to express how much you wanted him. Your hands moved to his hair, fingers threading through the dark curls as he continued to explore. He leaned, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against the very top of your thigh, just shy of where you needed him, where your body ached for him. But just as you thought he might give you what you were silently begging for, he pulled back. His lips began a slow journey upward, leaving you yearning, the frustration building with each inch he traveled.

He paused just above your mouth, sharing a breath as he looked down at you. "I've thought about this for so long," he murmured, "How I wanted to touch you first, the ways I wanted you to fall apart."

You released a sound in response, needy and pleading. You’d spent countless nights imagining what it would be like to be with Azriel, to see the side of him he reserved for only a few. You’d wondered how his touch might feel—gentle, reverent, like a lover tracing sacred ground. You'd thought of him worshiping your body like a saint, his hands gliding over your bare skin, fantasized about the way his fingers might curl inside you, delicate yet purposeful, stroking the most intimate parts of you until you unraveled beneath him.

“I want to hear all those pretty noises I know you can make,” he continued, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “Can you do that for me?”

But you hadn’t imagined this. You hadn’t expected him to be so talkative, to render you speechless with a single look. The hunger in his eyes made you feel divine, as though he was starving for you, for the taste of you, for the sound of your voice.

You nodded. It was all you could do— barely able to breathe, let alone speak. He smiled like the sun and kissed you again, one hand curving along your shoulder, sliding down your body with painful slowness, a detour around the curve of your breast, a whimper into his mouth.

It felt like hours before his palm slid down the rise of your belly, torturous and tentative. Then finally, his hand slipped between your thighs. He traced the slickness of your core and you gasped in relief, felt as he greedily accepted the sound with his tongue.

There was something profoundly intimate about the way Azriel's eyes locked with yours as he worked his fingers inside you, something about how your foreheads rested against each other as he groaned. Az was watching you, observing every reaction to the movements he made. He kissed you throughout it, rotating between staring at you, molding your lips to his, and sucking on that sensitive area of your ear lobe; kissing alongside your neck as he praised you.

"Such a pretty mess," he murmured against your ear. "Does this feel good?"

He added another finger, thumb circling your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut, a desperate moan escaping your lips as the pleasure mounted. Then he was moving, pulling away from you as he descended down your body, following the trail of kisses and marks he'd left before. Azriel shifted his body, positioning himself right before your core, pushing your legs further apart to nestle between them. Your gaze fell to his hands, slick and glistening with your desire. For a moment he stilled, focused gaze as he watched his fingers disappear inside you.

And when he pulled them out, he spread the wetness further across your folds, eyes locked on yours, pupils blown with need. He was saying your name, praising you, watching as you squirmed at his touch.

"Azriel." You moaned out.

"Yeah, beautiful?"

You couldn't respond, weren't sure what you wanted to say.

“Jesus. Look at you,” he said, his voice a low growl. “So fucking pretty. Your body is perfect.”

You were torn between begging him to keep talking, to speak more and let his words roll over you, and begging him to touch you more, to feel him inside you, to fuck you.

With his eyes still locked on yours, he brought his mouth to your cunt, groaning in approval the moment he drew your essence into his mouth. His fingers slipped back inside you, finding a deep, aching spot, and your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Each tug on his hair elicited a low, approving groan from him, and you stored that information away, tucked it safely for a later time.

Your eyes fell shut as you neared the edge, body tensing with the imminent release. No, your mind echoed. Not yet. You let out a ragged breath, pulling at the curls on Az's head and pushing him away from your cunt. Azriel immediately loosened his hold on you, eyes shooting up to yours, brows furrowing with a growing concern.

“Not yet,” you managed, your voice breathy and urgent. “With you. On you. Please.”

The crease softened and his eyes grew dark again, hungry and blown wide. He grinned, hair tousled, lips glistening and swollen, and nodded in understanding. Az rid himself of the last piece of clothing he had, shedding his underwear as you drank in the sight of him before you. His naked form pressed against yours as he lay over you. You reached between you, wrapping your hand around him and stroking him slowly, tentatively. His answering groans were low and guttural, brows furrowing with each movement of your hand.

“Do you have—?”

He nodded toward your bedside table. “You should. Rhys’s mom was very serious about safe sex.”

His voice was rough like gravel, octaves below what he normally spoke. If you weren't already drenched by now, you would've been pooling at the sound alone. You let out a breathless laugh and Azriel managed to lean over to your left drawer— the one you’d never really used, never even bothered to check what might be in it. His fingers fumbled briefly before he pulled out a small foil packet. He ripped it open with still glistening hands, and you took it from him, rolling it over his length with careful precision. Pumping him once, twice. Savoring the sinful sounds leaving his lips.

He was bigger than you had anticipated and your mouth watered at the sight, at the fact that beyond just its size, it was pretty. You'd get your mouth on it soon, you told yourself, taste him just as he tasted you. You'd wrap your lips around his head, let him fuck your mouth the way he wanted, and taste his release with a greedy tongue. But not now.

Az maneuvered himself, a forearm near your head to hold himself as his other hand went in between you, replacing your hand with his own. You ran your freed palm along his chest, bringing it up to his shoulders.

"Are you sure?" Az asked, eyes focused on you.

You almost laughed at the question, a smile forming on your face as you nodded. "For the love of god, please," you said, and you were sure it was the hundredth time you'd muttered the word. "I want you. I-I need you."

Az’s growl reverberated through you, a primal sound you’d never heard from him before. It sent waves of need crashing over your body. Your legs instinctively locked around his back, drawing him in as his cock pressed firmly inside you, an intense surge of pleasure that made you both gasp for air. You clenched around him, welcoming him and the stretch he provided, the sensation of him as he rolled his hips, as he bottomed out with another sinful groan. Azriel kissed you again and again as he moved, as he picked up the pace and you clawed at his back— nails digging into the ink that adorned his golden skin.

His mouth explored every inch of you—your nipples, your throat, your ear—before he covered your mouth to muffle your moans once more. You dug your heels into his back, fingers tangled in his hair as he pressed you firmly into the mattress with the snap of his hips. You were lost in the rising waves of sensation—his quick, sharp thrusts, the heat and sweat of your bodies moving together.

Faintly, you heard a soft whining, a mewl of pleasure. You realized, seconds later, it had come from your own throat; desperate and babbling, repeating Az's name like a prayer. He was everything now, every thought in your mind, filling every sense, his hands, his tongue, his cock.

You were so close, on the edge of something monumental, ready to fall and fall and fall. Azriel must have seen the desperation in your eyes as he started whispering in your ear, murmuring things that you knew would later make you blush and squirm, turn red and pink and every color between.

“Holy shit, yes,” he growled, “You feel incredible, Y/n.”

You clung to him, your breath mingling with his, praying that, somehow, through this shared rhythm, you could bind him to you forever. That this moment would make him truly yours, beyond just the physical, blending every part of him with every part of you.

"Talk to me, beautiful." He nipped at your bottom lip. "Does it feel good?"

"Yes, god, yes." You moaned and pulled him closer to you. As you separated from another hungry kiss, you reveled in the way his chain dangled over your face, in the way it swung as he fucked you. It was even better than you imagined, even hotter in every way. You clenched around him, shivered at the sound he made.

He looked beautiful. Face flushed and glistening with sweat, tousled hair falling into his eyes as he gazed at you with a look of pure adoration, a look you felt too soft to be reserved for you. It was a look meant for those that did great, praise-worthy things, a look for a lover and a soulmate. You stared at him, breathing heavily, taking in all that he was, and he looked at you back, took you in just as carefully. Then he smiled, reaching up and gripping your hands in his. He pressed gentle kisses along your cheeks and entwined your fingers with his, held them above your head.

"I'm so close,” you murmured, “So close.”

Azriel's eyes darkened. He brought his bottom lip between his teeth and his cock surged into you with such force that the bed groaned beneath you. You gasped, body going slack as he drove into you with relentless speed, each thrust so intense that you were left completely immobilized. His movements grew uneven, body trembling as he strained to hold back, his fingers pressing deeply into yours.

“Azriel.” His name was all you had. “Az. Az.”

He was buried deep inside you, trembling with the force of his release. “Come on, sweetheart,” he breathed heavily. "Come with me, baby."

You clenched at the name, at the way his words caressed your skin. Azriel cried out against your shoulder, his moan wavering like he was descending from a high. You felt his entire body shudder and you pressed kisses to his ear, cheek, and neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, maybe a little too roughly, but he only whimpered and slumped against you, his full weight pressing you into the bed.

He took deep breaths and you laughed as he blew your hair out of his face. A few moments later you loosened your hold on him, bodies reluctantly untangled, condom disposed, and you both shifted onto your sides. You leaned in to kiss him. His response was tender and unhurried, his lips moving against yours with a reverent slowness. His hands roamed over your back, your hip, and the curve of your ass.

Long after you cleaned up, as you laid against Az's bare chest and he played with your hair, that feeling of falling was still there, something exciting and equally terrifying. It filled your stomach, flowed through your veins.

You looked at Az, took in his contented smile, his eyes closed and peaceful as he held you, and you wondered if you truly knew what love felt like, wondered when it was too soon to decide you could never let someone go.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹  

authors note: your honor i do believe theyre falling in love. i also, do believe, that they boutta be fuckin like rabbits

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

@melissat1254

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

As always, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[ariadnehelx]

title: KISSIN' UNDER THE MISTLETOE!

summary: two attempts mualani made to get you guys to kiss, and one that he made himself. pairings: kinich x gn!reader. tw: none. notes: ahh this took longer than expected! also i made it gn i hope that's okay! <.3

“...Everything is going according to plan.”

Mualani smirked schemingly to herself. It was Christmas time, the most festive time of the year, where every year, a great Christmas party is hosted in Natlan. This year, Mualani took it upon herself to host the big Christmas party.

It was very grand too, what with the great Christmas tree standing in the corner, oh so beautifully decorated with baubles, holly and lights, not to mention the shiny star on top. A diverse range of presents of different shapes and colors overflowed on the floor underneath, labelled with names of guests arriving today. How much fun it would be to open them! The smell of hot chocolate wafted through the air, and one couldn’t help but contemplate how much time Mualani must have spent to plan this dinner, and one couldn’t help but appreciate it all.

But for Mualani, besides all the festivities and planning, this Christmas, she had a mission. A personal goal, one could say. 

To get you and Kinich to kiss under a mistletoe.

The idea came about back in November. While at a weekly hangout with your best friends, Mualani was also there, and somehow the topic of crushes came up, and after being peer pressured into saying the name of the person you liked you slipped up and admitted to having a crush on Kinich… to which, honestly? Mualani was absolutely flabbergasted. 

But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Kinich had always been more open with you, if at all, and, thinking about it further, Mualani realized that as she was the common friend between the two of you, perhaps she could play cupid. Since then, along with being occupied with the dinner planning, she was also planning a perfect moment for the two of you to be caught by ‘chance’ under the mistletoe (that she would hang over you), having to kiss and the lot. 

Although, you could have refused a kiss if you were feeling shy… but Mualani brushed this thought off quickly; there was no way she was going to let Christmas pass and not have you and Kinich officially dating. No way!

By this point, near enough all the guests had poured in, packing the place up with hearty laughter, Christmas carols and so on. Mualani looked to the left; Kachina was receiving presents from Chasca. Behind them stood Xilonen, who had arrived a couple hours earlier to help Mualani out with the decorations and preparations. Looking to the right, Citlali and Ororon were only arriving now. Then, behind those two, Mualani spotted Kinich entering with a fairly small gift in hand, Ajaw groaning something in his ear and Kinich refused to listen.

Then? Mualani caught Kinich staring at you from his place near the entrance. She giggled to herself, and couldn’t help but imagine how the two would look if you ever ended up together. 

Next thing she knew, Kinich had made his way towards herself. 

“Here.” Kinich didn’t smile, but Mualani could feel the warmth behind his unfazed and cold demeanor. “Merry Christmas, Mualani.”

Mualani gave Kinich a good-natured grin, touched, and then gave him a warm hug back. “D’aww, thanks Kinich! I left your presents under the tree, so make sure you check ‘em out later, okay?” When she pulled away, Kinich nodded and the two engaged in a short conversation before leaving to meet his other friends.

“Oh yeah, and Merry Christmas!!” Mualani called out from behind him, trying her absolute best to hide the blatant smirk on her face. Now that the two people she was trying to get to kiss under the mistletoe were here, Mulani’s plan began.

Attempt 1.

Whistling to herself in an attempt to look unsuspicious, Mualani crept closely towards the fireplace, hiding a mistletoe behind her. She’d noticed that both you and Kinich frequented the fireplace, and so she discreetly placed a mistletoe in the most perfect spot, although once placed Mualani did think that some other people might get their chance to kiss instead, considering how much of a common palace it was to be seen in. 

Except, at the current moment, right after Mualani placed the mistletoe, you were crouched down and warming your hands in front of the fireplace. You didn’t notice  Mualani sneakily placing the mistletoe just earlier… and by chance, Kinich was walking towards the fireplace.

Stifling a mischievous laugh, Mualani snuck away from the scene, hiding from the two of you, and watched expectantly.

She didn’t know the reason why Kinich was coming towards you, but he seemingly came there for you. However… 

Just before he could tap your shoulder, just before it was about to happen, the moment left as soon as it came. 

“Heyy, Kinich! I didn’t think you were coming, come on, let’s go have some fun…!” Some idiot guest grabbed his shoulder, before dragging him to the snack table to get some snacks.

Mualani’s anticipating grin wiped off completely, and, huffing and making a mental note to ban this person from the guest list next time (kidding she’s too sweet to do that), she understood that she needed to get creative. She had to try harder. Maybe she should get more people involved. Yes… of course, another scheme was forming in her mind.

Attempt 2.

After her first failed attempt, Mualani decided it would be best to add someone into her plot, so she went ahead and told Kachina about her plans, and of course, your secret crush on Kinich. 

“H-Huhhhh? (name) likes Kinich–” Kachina’s ears turned red when she thought about this new revelation; she was equally as shocked about this as Mualani had been a few weeks ago, and Mualani had decided to enlist her help!

“Shh! Yep, I know! I was extremely surprised too! Kachina, would you mind helping me out?” Mualani whispered. “The plan is simple. You’re going to place the mistletoe on the doorway between there,” Mualani pointed towards the hallway. “And I’ll make the two of them go over there before anyone takes their chance.” she giggled.

“Mm, but Mualani? What if they don’t notice the mistletoe?” Kachina remarked. Mualani tapped her chin in thought, but when she considered this, she had to admit it was a good point. Mualani would have to somehow persuade the two of you to go to a specific place and on top of that, notice the mistletoe. 

“I’m sure they’ll see it. You can’t miss it! You just do what I asked, ‘kay?” Kachina nodded, taking the mistletoe from Mualani’s hands and going over there.

“Okay! Now to convince them to go over there… hm…”

–

After she was able to convince both you and Kinich separately that someone wanted to meet you both, Mualani just had to watch. More watching, of course… This was getting boring now, what with all the suspense, but it would be worth it if you two kissed this evening!

You were already waiting there, having noticed the mistletoe  hanging on the door. Your cheeks turned warm as the implication settled into your mind. Maybe said person looking for you wanted to… kiss you?

If that was true, then you weren’t too sure you’d want that. After all, your heart belonged to Kinich. Your mind didn’t immediately think that it’d be Kinich, not that it was, but you didn’t want to stick around.

So, without another second thought you walked off and joined Xilonen for some Christmas karaoke. Oh boy, Xilonen can sing.

And of course, the person who “wanted to meet you” was Kinich. Yes, Mualani told him the exact same thing, that somebody wanted to meet him for something over there. But Kinich did take his time, and so when he did decide to get this over with, he saw you leaving the exact same place. Coming over there, he too noticed the mistletoe hanging on the door, which, now that Mualani thinks, only an idiot could not have noticed it. 

His heart kind of sank when he realized that if it was you who wanted to see him… maybe… you wanted to kiss him? But… chickened out last second and left. Yeah, that could be the only reason why. At least in his eyes.

Now, something only he knew at the time was that he had a soft spot for you. He’d never felt like this for anyone, in fact; when the two of you started talking he swore he was getting ill… because what was with the butterflies in his stomach all of a sudden? The desire to seek you out? Not that Kinich could accept the truth, but he was in love with you too.

Mualani on the other side of the room had watched the whole thing, you leaving, Kinich’s apparent sadness and then him leaving himself. The way she groans out of helplessness is almost comedic, but now the party's almost over. Luck had not been on her side today at all, huh?

–

Shoulders slumped forward slightly, head hung down… Mualani reflected over today. It had been fun and all, but… she couldn’t get you guys to kiss. The one thing she’d wished for this Christmas! Darn…

The party being over, Mualani and some of her friends who had decided to stay were cleaning up. Kinich would have left… probably? She didn’t know. But you, as the sweetheart you were, decided to help clean up, and it’d been a few minutes since she sent you to go get some cleaning supplies from the cupboard upstairs… Why were you taking so long?

Well, the answer to the question she’d asked in her head came quickly when she was about to enter the room and she froze right outside.

Kinich was dangling a mistletoe… over you.

Suppressing a gasp of surprise, Mualani watched on. Kinich was holding a mistletoe with one hand and his other hand had found its way to your waist, pulling you in.

Then you let out a soft gasp, because no way this was happening. Did Mualani have a hand in this? But little did you know, for all those failed attempts Mualani made hours earlier to get you both to kiss under the mistletoe, this was one attempt that Kinich was making himself.

“Are you the person Mualani told me that wanted to see me?” At your confusion, Kinich’s brows furrow. “I noticed you were running away from there before, so-”

“What? Mualani told me someone was going to meet me… oh.” Now it made sense. Mualani winced as you two came to the conclusion that Mualani was trying to do something here. Not that you two minded it.

“I see… well, now that we’re here… may I?”

Nodding shyly, you were starting to get nervous. However, before you could do anything else, Kinich leaned in, brushing his lips against yours. You relaxed quickly and your fingers slid down to the side of his face.

Mualani couldn’t help the red that decorated her cheek as she watched from afar… but… at least, her mission this Christmas had now been completed. Oh, Archons, this is too cute to watch.

[proseandpretrichor]

Entwined | Jinx x Reader

Word Count: 598

Warnings: none -> just a short little thought blurb I had to write so my mind would shut up so I can sleep

You were her opposite in every way. It was hardly fathomable– the crazed criminal somehow wooing such a quiet and kind person such as yourself. You did share her notorious ambitions, just existing as a simple botanist living in one of the few docile suburbs of the undercity. You were the type of person to leave bowls of milk and water for the stray animals roaming the streets, unlike your cloud filled mind of your partner often found too dazed by the whirlwinds of her own mind to focus on anything else. While she built mechanisms of chaos, you created simple melodies of plants into teas, tonics, and remedies. Often selling these little miracles for such a small cost it seemed as though you were giving them away for free, something that was nearly unheard of in a place like the undercity. And these products not only were affordable, they worked! They worked exceptionally well, whereas the working class of the Undercity were doomed to rely on shimmer to continue with the grueling pace of the labor demands to provide, to eat, and sleep in a sheltered abode, you offered a chance of true health, of hope, of rest, of peace. Naturally, those who knew you, cherished you, none more so than Jinx. While at first the coupling seemed confusing and odd it soon clicked and couldn’t seem to make more sense. Jinx protected you and cherished you away from the extortionists of the Undercity, seeking to take your gifts and extort them for profit. In exchange for no cost, you gave Jinx a real understanding of the concept of true love, healthy love, happy love – no strings or obligations attached. You accepted her as she was waiting patiently to understand her past, unraveling the strings that wove together the misunderstood woman who held your heart in her jittery hands. And when the pieces of the puzzle finally clicked and you stood back and made sense of the whole picture that made Jinx well Jinx, you didn’t cower away in annoyance or fear, but embraced all the parts of her, even the messy jagged broken fragments. Even though it seemed as though your intertwined existences seemed to cancel the other out, you didn’t try to change her or soften her. You allowed her the freedom to exist as she was meant to, and figure out her place in the world, even when at most times she seemed to want nothing more to destroy it and certainly did her best to. And she knew… she knew for every explosion made by her hands, you were somewhere else mending the cracks and sewing the holes into faded little scares. So it really didn’t matter, then did it? — is the conclusion most people end on. It didn’t matter that you two were so biologically different, not when somehow it made you fit together all the while better. Besides, it's not like anyone could successfully tear you two apart, not if Jinx had anything to say about it– and she certainly did, as long as she was breathing you would be by her side. It didn’t matter what the pair of you concluded the tasks of the day, you would find your way back to each other. Wrapped into an embrace, one that slowly recharged the energy the day demanded of the two of you, and in that little pocket of the Undercity, a place of the forsaken, there was perfection given to the most damned of all women. So perhaps that makes her all the more deserving of it, you decide. 

[maevesheart]

only angel (2)

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER

note: wasn’t originally planning on making a part two to this but it just seemed so unfinished??!?! and i love ruthless reader idk she’s a queen

summary: through your alliance with katniss, you and finnick rekindle some buried feelings.

wc: 5.2k

tw: violence, death, brutal!!reader, blood, allusions to forced prostitution

only angel (1)

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER, THE 68TH HUNGER GAMES

Brutus and Enobaria sat in front of you and Mace, your district mate.

They reminded you of strategies that you had been taught your whole life, ensuring that as long as you two played into the Capitol’s hands, you’d get plenty of sponsors and come out alive.

Mace and you had never been close back home, but you saw him in the shopping centers, had some mutual friends. It was someone familiar, and even though your two mentors spent more time perfecting your wielding of knives and crocodile tears, you hoped Mace could somehow make it far in the games. Like you knew you would.

Enobaria and Brutus had introduced you to the various other Career Tributes, taking their time to butter up the other mentors, ensuring a ticket for your survival.

You were small compared to the other tributes, even the girl from Twelve was bigger than you.

But you trained, and you trained hard, showing off the various knife and sword tricks that had been engraved in your brain since you were a child.

Enobaria helped with your endurance, shocked by how fast you were. She had instructed you to not show that off to the other tributes, don’t give too much away.

After the private sessions with your mentors, you were stronger, faster, and more agile than Mace could even dream. You almost felt bad, the way Enobaria and Brutus were setting him up for death.

But, at the end of the day, only one can make it out alive.

Enobaria was strategic, determined for you to win. She instructed you to not show too many strengths in the private session with the Gamemakers, just enough to get a respectable score for someone from a Career District.

You followed her instructions to a tee, refusing to be one of the 23 fallen.

For the interviews, Ceasar laughed at your innocent comments and jokes, complimenting the head piece you wore, noting how it looked like a halo.

“Beautiful, like an Angel,” he smiled, the crowed cheering in agreement.

You giggled, smoothing down the uncomfortable golden dress they had sewn you into.

The crowd roared with your unwavering confidence, the arrogance paired with your baby-face and innocent smile was enough to send them into a fit of convivial.

It was just too easy.

The night before the games you had snuck out of the floor for Two, going up to the rooftop in hopes of having a moment to yourself.

You perched on the ledge, a small nightgown barely covering your shivering body.

You closed your eyes to relish in what could possibly be your last moments of peace, before being snapped from your trance by footsteps echoing.

You whipped around, teeth barring and senses on high alert. You were already acting like the wild animal Enobaria had been training you to be.

“Not in the arena just yet,” a smooth voice sounds out, a boy a few years older than you coming into view.

You recognized him as Finnick Odair. He had won a few years back, and was now returning as a mentor.

You ignored him, turning back to the outline of the Capitol.

He approached you slowly, leaning his body against the glass railing you were propped against.

You looked up to him, tired-eyes meeting his, somehow seemingly sparkling.

“Unfortunately,” you spoke, your mouth in a straight line. Enobaria had introduced you to him during the parade, but his tributes were not ally-material.

He laughed at your response. You stared at him, unamused.

“Feisty,” he smirked, watching you look away from him and back to the skyline.

“Not really in the mood to talk about my fate,” you said, his eyes still burning two holes into the side of your face.

His smile dropped slightly, having once been in your position himself.

He reminded himself you were only 15. A year older than he was when he won.

He had only won 3 years ago, and stood on this same rooftop. Looking out on the same city skyline.

Your peripheral vision caught him lean both his forearms onto the glass, shifting closer to you.

“Is it just as scary as it seems?” You ask. You were a child. A child that had been trained to hunt and kill. But deep down, you were just a scared kid. How would you kill all those people?

Finnick hums, acknowledging the same question that wracked his mind the nights before his games.

“It is,” he recognized your fear, but refused to give you false hope that it wouldn’t be as brutal as it truly is.

The words Enobaria had spoken to you earlier bounced around your brain, it’s just killing. Self-defense. All of it. Don’t be scared to kill someone who isn’t scared to kill you.

You let out a long breath, closing your eyes.

“I don’t want to die,”

It was quiet, but Finnick heard it, head perking up and turning to stare at you.

The role as a tribute was meant to bring great honor to someone from your district, but you were terrified. You were young, passionate. You had so much to give and so little time to give it all.

“Enobaria told me to hide my strengths, and I did. I’ll be able to kill them, once it comes down to it. But how will I live with myself?”

Finnick asked himself the same question everyday. How did he kill all those people? Sure, it was survival. Him or them. But how do you continue your life, pretending like you hadn’t murdered people on live national television?

“I—“ Finnick fell short, eyes still watching the side of your face.

“How do you cope with it all?” You finally turned to him, salty tears on your cheeks.

He knew you were preparing yourself for the inevitable. He had heard Enobaria boast about you, and had seen you in training. Other tributes would be frightened to get close to you.

He didn’t answer, swallowing thickly. You would soon understand, you would be in his position.

You choked out a sob, hands wrapping around your body.

He watched with wild eyes, before pulling you into his warm chest, head burrowing in his body.

You made no move to remove yourself from his body, and his arms were snug against your back.

“Kill as many as you can, as soon as you can. Then lay low, hunt. Don’t fall for any of that ally-bullshit.”

His voice was rushed, eyes filled with emotion. He felt for you, a scared child. He remembered his fear all too well.

You sniffled in his chest, hands balling at the thin fabric of his top.

And you listened to him.

In those next few hours, during the bloodbath, you killed two, both with knives to the chest. The Capitol citizens cheered as your face reflected the highest kill-count. You knew it was nothing to be proud of.

That next evening, while the rest of the Career pack slept, you stole the boy from One’s — Yves — backpack, shoving their weapons into it as quietly as possible.

Your small size came handy, being able to stealthily move around them, you were lucky the arena was a desert, sand not making a noise.

The girl from One — Aithon — began to lightly stir, and you knew it was now or never. Finnick’s words from the night before mixed with Enobaria’s, and that was all you needed to take a sword in each hand and take down the two tributes from One.

Their deaths were quick, the canons sounding out and Mace waking up, his laying figure looking up at you. Small but powerful.

You stood over his body, one foot on each of his arms, keeping him from reaching up to you.

His face twisted in confusion, looking over to the blood pouring from Yves and Aithon, each who had just been sleeping soundly next to him.

Your knife neared his face in milliseconds, and you had to force your arms down as he began to scream.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could whisper, guilt beginning to cloud your senses.

But you pushed past it, knowing you had to come out alive. No other option.

“Y/N! Please!”

And then there was silence.

He wasn’t anything special, but he was from home.

You held in tears as the canon sounded, running from the three as quickly as you could.

Whilst you hid behind one of the large cacti around the arena, Enobaria grinned as Capitol citizens celebrated her and you, her star tribute.

Finnick watched, heart tugging, knowing that he had encouraged the killings, he had told you to trust no one. And you had listened.

And from then on, you became the Capitol’s angel, their winged symbol of purity, despite the blood and deaths of many on your hands.

When Snow placed the crown on your head, you smiled, naively, and thanked the crowd. Thanked them for their donations, and their belief in you from the beginning.

But that’s all you were to them: a spectacle. A little girl who killed five in one day, a little girl who’s life had been dedicated to these games, to win. A little girl who would never get her purity back, never get to sleep without seeing Mace’s terrified face before she killed him.

He didn’t deserve it, none of them did. But it was life or death. And there was no way you were going to die.

PRESENT DAY, THE THIRD QUARTER QUELL

Your group continued up to the Cornucopia, you and Finnick taking the tail.

Peeta and Finnick drew a map in the dark sand, you leaned against the side of the metal Cornucopia, Johanna plopping down next to you, and Katniss on your other side.

It all happened in a blur. One second, Wiress was singing her song about a mouse and the clock, and the next, Gloss was on top of her, knife straight into the heart.

Katniss’s arrow struck him, you grabbing your swords to get Cashmere who was standing behind him.

Finnick rushed after you. He knew you could take Cashmere, but what happened if Brutus appeared? Brutus had never been kind to you, and it was doubtful he would start now.

Your sword stuck Cashmere in the leg, and she screamed, falling onto the little amount of ground that the middle sector offered.

She turned over, knife in her left hand, grazing your ankle slightly. Luckily your stylist had dressed you in thicker socks; she had been an absolute idiot about most things, but at least she had your back in the arena.

Your thigh was still slightly burning with pain, but you pushed through it, sticking both your swords into Cashmere’s chest, a strangled gasp leaving her lips and her head falling back against the ground.

The canon sounded out, but you continued to pull your swords out and drive them back into her chest, more blood pouring out.

You were grunting now, mind hyper-aware of your actions, but refusing to stop.

You kept driving the sharp tools into her chest, her body slightly moving up when you retracted the metal, and then caving in as you pushed them back.

You weren’t going to die; you refused to.

Hands were on your shoulders, pulling you backwards, and you turned, swinging.

Finnick let go and backed away, hands held up. He knew you’d never hurt him, but once you’re in the killing mindset, it’s very hard to break it.

You dropped the weapons to your side, a long breath leaving your lips that you hadn’t realized you’d be holding in.

Finnick pulled you along with him, hand on your side as he brought you over to everyone else.

All of them were staring with wide eyes — besides Johanna of course.

Katniss knew you were brutal, but she didn’t realize how quickly you did turn into the angel of death. One second you were smiling, laughing at something Johanna had said.

Then your eyes were lit with a fire, teeth out, and running, faster than Katniss had ever seen someone move.

She had watched you kill Cashmere in seconds, continuing to drive the weapons into her, sounds of exasperation leaving your lips but you were unrelenting.

You felt like you were fifteen again, scared and angry, brutal to anyone who crossed your path. Your swordsmanship was uncanny, and Katniss dreaded the moment that she had to try and kill you.

And then the Cornucopia began to spin, extremely fast. You grabbed onto Finnick, a sword sucking down into the water, your other tight in the palm of your opposite hand.

You and Finnick fell to the ground, grabbing at the hard rocks to keep from flying to the water.

And then you heard Peeta scream Katniss’s name, and the two of you both yelled a loud, “shit!”

You pushed off the hard ground, crawling to the side of the island, hand reaching down to grab Johanna’s axe and try to hoist the two of them up.

You grunted, holding onto a small portion of the metal that wasn’t sharp. Your feet dug into the ground, sword shoved into the rock to keep you grounded.

You watched as Katniss went flying down, and then Johanna was on top of you, the two of you gasping for oxygen when the spinning stopped.

You and Johanna were back on your feet, rushing to help Katniss out of the water.

You all made your way back onto the sand, where it was relatively safe.

You discussed strategy, your fingers tracing different shapes into Finnick’s thigh.

“Who’s left then?” Katniss asked, eyes flickering between you and Johanna, the two of you having a conversation with your eyes.

“Brutus and Chaff, I think that’s all,” Peeta announced, all eyes shifting to you at the mention of your district-mate.

“I get Brutus,” you spoke clearly, eyes hard.

“Y/N…” Finnick spoke, hand smoothing down your arm.

“Just… I know him. I can handle it, I swear,”

He had helped train you, of course you would know his methods like the back of your hand. You had been seeking revenge for years, waiting for the day you could get him back.

What had the games done to you? Fantasizing about killing someone?

And then you were back there, back to the moment your life really ended.

You were dressed in clothes Snow had picked out, a hairstyle Snow had picked out, makeup Snow had picked out. You were his newest doll, malleable to his every demand.

It was your victory tour, and Enobaria and Brutus were accompanying you, helping you with speeches and coming to terms with your new life as a Capitol pet.

You were finishing up in the Capitol, the final destination. Snow had laid out his conditions for you: your pride and body now belonged to the Capitol, and with it, they could do what they pleased. Your company came with a high price.

He had threatened your family back in Two, describing in detail what would become of them if you didn’t comply with his wishes.

You had gone back to the train and told Enobaria and Brutus, eyes spilling hot tears when Enobaria pulled you into her arms, hands stroking your hair. At least she was kind.

Brutus, however, was not.

His boisterous laugh rang off the walls of the train, your eyes peeking out from Enobaria’s embrace to glare at him.

“Let me know when you start, sweetheart,” he smirked, a scowl overtaking your features.

You had been waiting to get him back, to show him that weren’t a little slave for his disposal. Finnick understood your rage, more than any other person could.

He wanted to kill Brutus just as badly as you did.

No one else asked any questions, and for that you were grateful.

And then the screaming started, and you jumped to your feet, eyes frantic and scanning the area.

Whoever it was, they were screaming for Katniss, and rather brutally as well.

And off she took. You were the fastest, so you caught her first, arms around her shoulders to steady her, but she kept moving, screaming back to the voice.

She stopped abruptly, and shot an arrow into a large black bird that was flying over your heads.

The screaming stopped immediately. And then it began again, this time, it was the voice of Mace. And you felt the blood drain from your entire body, legs suddenly shaking and threatening to go out.

The words he had screamed to you before you had slit his throat were wrapping around your body, swallowing you whole.

“Y/N! Please! Y/N!” You were running then, the screaming getting louder and louder, tears streaming down your face as you tried to escape it; the horror that would haunt you forever.

“It’s not real, they’re jabberjays!” Katniss assured you, running behind you, trying to catch up.

You saw Finnick and Johanna’s faces ahead through your blurry vision, and you sped up, Finnick’s arms wide for you to run into.

But it was a force field, and you collided right into it, falling to the ground in a heap of tears and painful memories.

You covered your ears, head digging into the ground to stop the noise, but it wouldn’t stop. You wailed, and Finnick was hitting the force field, which he was standing on the direct other side, but there was no avail.

He was screaming for you, to look at him, listen to his voice. But the field was soundproof, and he had to watch with a heavy heart as you sobbed, the sounds of the person you betrayed all those years ago the only thing you could focus on.

Finnick’s hands were all over you, smoothing down your hair, checking your face, helping you stand.

Peeta was doing the same with Katniss, the both of you having tear-stains down your cheeks and dirt smudged into your cheeks.

You were frozen solid, eyes big and wide, legs slightly shaking. You had never felt worse about something than what you did to Mace that dreadful night. His screams haunted your dreams, and to have the Gamemakers play into that weakness reminded you just who the real enemy is.

“Y/N, look at me,” Finnick’s hands were on the sides of your face, pulling you closer to his protective figure.

“It wasn’t real. It wasn’t him,” he shook his head lightly, your lips still quivering from fear.

You could only muster the strength to simply nod, telling him that you knew, but the Gamemakers were cruel, so cruel, and they had hit you right where it hurt.

Just as you were beginning to regain your usual automatic-kill mindset, a small box flew down, straight into your hands.

Everyone gathered around you, curious as to what could’ve been sent.

You knew Enobaria would have your back, and considering the sponsors this year were based upon what you had left over from your games, you were lucky. You had a large pot of donations under your name, not needing much assistance when you were in your first games.

You screwed off the top, being met with a small vile of Crave Cure, the very concoction that she had sent you during your games. It came with a note reading: remember who the real enemy is. I’m always rooting for you. - Baria

That assured you of Enobaria’s stance, likely scheming with Haymitch and Plutarch behind the scenes, ensuring your protection by Thirteen.

Finnick smiled next to you, Johanna calling out with happiness.

“Finally!” Johanna cheered, axe thrust into the air.

You even broke a smile, suddenly distracted from the traumatic experience you had just endured.

You looked up, seeing the confused looks on Katniss and Peeta’s faces.

They would’ve never heard of Crave Cure, it was the most expensive thing a mentor could send their tribute, and required many sponsors. It was usually only sent to the Careers, both you and Finnick had received it during your games.

“Crave Cure,” you spoke, Katniss’s eyes meeting yours.

“One drop on your tongue and it cures hunger for 12 hours,” you smiled to them, picking up the vile.

“Enobaria is a saint,” Johanna spoke, watching as you dropped a tiny bit of the brown liquid onto your tongue, a content sigh escaping your lips.

Beetee went next, then Finnick and Johanna.

Katniss and Peeta stood awkwardly to the side, not knowing to approach or not.

“Oh, enough of that! We’re allied, aren’t we? Take a drop,” you urged, placing the vile into her hands.

Peeta nodded, and that seemed to be all the convincing Katniss needed before mimicking your action and gagging when she tasted the fluid.

You laughed at her expression, a light-hearted tease. “Not the best, but it does do its job,”

You figured you had really won her trust, considering how she walked next to you during the hike to the big tree.

The two of you talked about your families back home. You complimented her dedication, to protect her little sister.

She had killed your Cato and Clove; the two you had spent hours coaching, assuring they’d be okay in the end. Words you had needed so badly during your games.

Through talking with Katniss, you realized no one deserved to win as much as she did. She was selfless, willing to sacrifice herself for both her sister and Peeta, placing herself as a protector, not a victim.

And then the peace you had all been building crashed down, Katniss suddenly retreating from the trust you all had built after Beetee offered she go with you and Johanna.

“Why can’t Johanna and Y/N go? I’ll protect you with Peeta,” she spoke, and you met Finnick’s gaze. You read the fear in his eyes, knowing this the was now or never moment.

“Katniss,” you spoke, hands resting on her shoulders.

“You know who the true enemy is,” you whispered, holding her intense eye-contact.

Her eyes softened at your words, everything seemingly clicking into place. With a nod, you grabbed her hand, and pulled her with you and Johanna.

A look over your shoulder to Finnick, and a nod. Your eyes said it all: I love you. I’ll see you soon, once we are safe and out of the Capitol’s hands.

You and Johanna halted your movements, stopping Katniss as you did.

“Stay down,” Johanna instructed Katniss, grabbing her arm.

“What-“ Katniss was about to scream, and you could not let that happen.

You grabbed her face with your hands, eyes frantic for her faith.

“You can trust us,” you whispered, barely loud enough for the cameras to pick up on.

But the raw emotion in your eyes calmed Katniss, giving Johanna the opportunity to cut the tracker out, Katniss’s arm beginning to bleed heavily.

“It’s alright,” you soothed her, your arm out to Johanna, waiting for the inevitable sear of pain.

And then it came, and you placed your body over Katniss’s not allowing her to get up and try to attack.

But then you spotted Brutus over the rock, his hard eyes staring straight into yours.

“Y/N,” Johanna warned, watching the familiar fire begin to brew.

You were up in seconds, sword in one hand, knife in the other, running up the rocky hill. The pain in your arm was masked by the rush of adrenaline you ran high off, killing spree — if you will.

Johanna grunted in anger, but she knew not to expect anything different from you.

“Do not move,” she instructed Katniss, picking up her axe to follow you.

You had reached Brutus quickly, pouncing onto his back and driving your sword straight through his abdomen.

He cried out in pain, blood soon coating your legs that wrapped around his waist.

You pulled the sword out, taking the knife to his neck. He was dead in seconds, the familiar canon sounding throughout the arena.

After registering what you had done, images of Katniss flooded your mind and you internally cursed yourself, rushing back to the spot you had left her and Johanna.

Johanna was back to your side, but Katniss was no where to be seen.

“Fuck!” You cursed, sprinting back towards the tree where Beetee, Finnick, and Peeta were.

She had likely gone back to protect Peeta and kill Finnick, and you were not about to let that happen.

Johanna tried to keep up with you; but even with a gushing arm and slit leg, you were fast. Much faster than anyone else.

“Finnick!” You screamed, feet pounding against the hard ground, propelling you towards the tree, where you watched Katniss aim her arrow straight at Finnick’s head.

Beetee was on the ground, and you crouched, feeling for his pulse. His heart was still beating and you hovered over him protectively, in case Katniss decided to turn around and fire at you too. Which seemed very likely.

You watched as Finnick said something to Katniss, obviously resonating with her, the bow slightly lowering.

“Johanna! Give me your arm!” You swung around, panic-struck and searching for the familiar face.

And you saw her a few feet below, trying to climb the vines you had mounted with ease.

You looked between Finnick and her, torn as to which to try and protect. You knew Finnick would hold his own, so you turned back around and began to move for Johanna, quick feet avoiding possible injuries.

But just as you were in grabbing-distance of her, Finnick’s voice rang out, screaming, “Get away from that tree!”

A crack of something echoed around you, and you turned wildly, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Then you understand what Finnick had meant, a loud crack of lightening rained down and sent you flying, reaching for Johanna as you flew past her, her terrified eyes meeting yours.

The last thing you remembered was being pulled up into the air by a large claw, head and limbs limp as you were hoisted up; sword still secure in your palm, a protection habit you had picked up since your games. You always needed to be armed, after all, life was the arena.

You awoke to the sound of a heart monitor, steady beeping lightly calming your high-alert nerves.

You winced sitting up, large bandages wrapped around your forearm and thigh.

You inspected your surroundings, two empty mats in front of you, and Katniss sleeping to your left.

You stood, hushed voices on the other side of the door that reached the ceiling of the craft you were on.

You looked for a weapon of sorts, not willing to go in unarmed. On the other side of the empty room was your sword, glimmering and coated in blood.

You walked over to it, legs sore and aching, the familiar metal calming against your palm.

The door immediately opened as you approached it, Haymitch and Plutarch’s widening as they spotted your weapon of choice clutched in your ruthless hands.

But it dropped to the floor with a loud clatter when your tired eyes met Finnick’s, a relieved smile coming over your features.

You rushed to him, throwing yourself into his arms. His lips met yours halfway, melting into his strong hold around your body.

The two of you fit together perfectly, like you had been made in the same mold.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tighter to your already close bodies.

You poured all your pent up feelings into the kiss, all the feelings you had suppressed since the fight that had ended your relationship.

It was the most relaxed you had been in the whole week, since your name was plucked from the bowl of living victors.

His lips moved against yours as he squeezed your hips, hands feeling everything they could, to ensure that it was in fact you, and you were alive and safe in front of him.

You pulled a part, a grin across your small face.

He smiled back, but your bliss was interrupted from the clearing of a throat behind you. You spun around, eyes meeting the expectant ones of Haymitch, Plutarch, and Beetee.

The look on your face said it all. And Haymitch nodded, validating all the thoughts that had been running through your head.

You were safe, headed for the secret hideout of Thirteen. All was okay.

You almost began to laugh thinking about how the Capitol would react, their Angel and Darling being two of the biggest conspirators in a rebellion. How ironic.

And Katniss was on the ship, you had successfully carried out your tasks.

“Where’s Johanna?” You asked, a smile still dotting your face.

Finnick’s composure broke, and your heart dropped, realizing the obvious.

“No, no, no, no,” you began to back away, spine hitting the hard metal of the table.

“I went after Brutus, I didn’t cut the tracker… fuck! Oh my god, Finnick, oh god,” you began to dry-heave, accepting her capture as your fault.

Finnick’s hands were on your biceps, steadying you and pulling you back into his chest.

“Johanna and Peeta are in the Capitol,” Plutarch spoke, your worst fears being confirmed.

“It’s all my fault,” you groaned, head in your hands. You had killed, hunted, and tortured. But the idea of a friend’s death being on your hands hurt more than any of those ever did.

Haymitch spoke reassuring words behind you, but Finnick’s hold and the idea of betraying Johanna was all you could focus on.

How would she forgive you? Was she alive? How would you ever cope if she wasn’t, and it was all your fault? Of course, you let the murderer take over, and went after Brutus.

Finnick’s arms soothed down your back, keeping your grounded as you were flooded with grief, with the heavy weight of betrayal.

Johanna and you were close friends, you were supposed to protect each other in the games. She had protected you, always by your side, and you neglected to do the same.

“We’re going to try and rescue them as soon as we can,” Haymitch said, even though you all knew that might be an impossible task.

And then Finnick slipped his hand into yours, fingers curling around yours and softly rubbing your knuckles.

You composed yourself, closing your eyes as you took in a deep breath, regaining focus on just your interlocked hands. Finnick always knew how to relax you.

All you had wanted initially was to get out of this quarter quell alive, to return home to your big mansion and family. To hug them again, to prove to the Capitol that they could take everything from you, but they couldn’t kill you.

But now, you realized that all had been in vain. Where you really belonged was here, holding hands with Finnick, discussing how you were going to break your friends from the Capitol’s mean grip.

You’d die for him, for them. You’d flap your wings once more to ensure they’d all live.

When Katniss first volunteered for Primrose, you hadn’t understood how she would sacrifice her life for another.

But now you knew, and you knew you’d do it too.

You finally had something to live for, someone you loved, who understood all that you had gone through better than anyone else.

Life was the arena, and if it came down to it, you knew the angel would sacrifice herself for the darling.

**