#and then after i asked why he was staring he was like… i’m just looking at you! and you’re smiling! and i’m like yeah because you aren’t

[incognit0slut]

was i stupid to love you?

in which a lingering glance at Rossi’s wedding threatens your engagement.

content: angst, 4.8k, takes place right after truth or dare (14x15), a lot of dialogue, mention of prison arc, emotional distress, relationship conflict, not proofread a/n: when was the last time you saw me write angst? exactly. this is inspired by malcolm & marie bc i really like the idea of having an argument while moving around the house (also disclaimer i have nothing against JJ i just like being dramatic)

The lock clicks open. The door swings with a creak. Your heels tap against the hardwood in a hollow rhythm that feels almost too loud. There’s a tightness in your chest, that prickling behind your eyes, and a familiar ache pressing up from the pit of your stomach, churning into a faint nausea that you try to ignore. You’re trying to hold it back.

Not here.

Not now.

Spencer doesn’t even look up. The keys slip from his hand with a soft clink as they hit the side table, and he turns away with a quiet sigh that reverberates deep in your bones.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, tossing a glance toward the kitchen. “Think we could order something?”

You trail after him, the sharp click of your heels echoing as you step onto the kitchen tile. “We just came back from a wedding.”

He’s rifling through the cupboard, his fingers brushing over the mismatched mugs and neatly stacked plates before he pulls down two glasses. “I barely ate anything at the reception.”

You watch him, biting back a response as memories flicker to mind. The slice of cake he’d poked at absentmindedly, washing it down with sips of water instead of real food.

It wasn’t hunger he seemed focused on tonight. No, it was his quiet glances across the room you keep on catching from the corner of your eye, and that conversation he’d had at the bar. The one where his posture softened, his gaze so intent you’d found yourself staring at the back of his head, trying not to read too much into it—and obviously failing.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

He shrugs, his back still to you as he fills the glasses with water. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding almost absent, like it’s something he hasn’t really thought about. “I didn’t get around to it, I guess.”

The muscles in your jaw ticks as you bite the inside of your cheeks.

Spencer turns, offering you a glass. “I was thinking of Chinese, or maybe we can check if that Thai place you like is still open.”

You take the glass from him, barely sparing it a glance before setting it back down on the counter. “Whatever you want is fine.”

A subtle crease appears between his brows. “You sure? You usually have some opinion when it comes to food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t want to eat anything?”

You suppress a sigh. "No. I'm tired."

The soft amber of his eyes dims slightly as he studies you. There's a flicker of uncertainty passing through them before he nods. “Alright,” he concedes. “We don’t have to order anything.”

A faint, humorless laugh escapes you before you can stop it. It tastes bitter, a little unfair, but it slips out before you can pull it back, “You don’t have to change your plans on my account, Spencer.”

“I’m not changing any plans,” he responds. “I’m just making sure you have something to eat in case you’re hungry.”

Your shoes dig uncomfortably into your feet. You shift your weight, starting to pace a few steps back and forth. "It's dinner, you don't have to check on me for every little thing. Do whatever you like."

He blinks, looking genuinely perplexed. "What are you saying? I was trying to be considerate."

"Right. Considerate.”

There’s an unmistakable bite in your tone.

“Yes, because we like doing these things together," he observes, watching your uneasy pacing. "Am I missing something here?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

"Honey."

The term of endearment lands softly, slipping from his lips like he believes it has the power to melt whatever tension has suddenly crept between you. But it only tightens the knot building in your stomach. It’s stirring the words you’re trying to hold back, tangling them somewhere between your chest and throat.

He calls your name this time, his eyes narrowing into sharp lines. “You’ve been awfully quiet on our way home, and now you’re… honestly, I don’t know why you're acting this way.” His voice dips with a tinge of exasperation. "What’s this really about?"

The words you’ve been biting back feel like a stack of stones in your throat, rising up, up, up, each one pressed tighter by the gnawing nausea in your stomach. You can feel them gathering, and before you know it, they tumble out messily.

“I’m just saying, don’t let me hold you back from getting what you want. I wouldn’t want to stop you from anything—or, god forbid," you add, letting your gaze drift away as if a little distance might soften the blow, “anyone.”

The soft, almost stifled inhale he takes is audible. You don’t even have to look up to see his expression shifting. You’ve known him long enough to recognize the way his shoulders tense, the way his breathing slows as he processes your words. You know his reaction by heart, yet right now, you wonder if saying this was a mistake, if this is the start of something neither of you can take back.

His fingers twitching at his side slip into your line of sight. He's angry.

Maybe this isn’t the time to start a fight.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Your heels click softly as you turn.

“Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything,” you mutter, already moving toward the bedroom that’s been yours, too, for the past year. Although it feels strange tonight, like a space that belongs to someone else. A life you’re not entirely sure you belong in.

“No." His voice is somewhere behind you. “I think you should explain to me what you mean by that.”

You don’t respond, choosing instead to sink onto the edge of the bed, hands fumbling as you try to undo the straps of your heels. You twist the stubborn leather with more force. His shadow fills the doorway.

“Honey.”

Not again.

You decide to ignore him.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

You tug harder at the strap. “No.”

He doesn’t buy it. “You’re clearly bothered by something.”

You shake your head, fingers still fumbling, the leather cutting against your ankle with each pull. “I’m just tired. Can we leave it at that?”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his gaze now, a crease forming between his brows as he studies you. He moves into the room. You barely have the chance to react before he lowers himself, bending one knee to the floor as he reaches toward the strap you’ve been fighting with. “Here, let me—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, pulling your foot away. “I can do it myself.”

“I know you can. But let me—”

“I can do it myself!”

Your heartbeat thuds loud in your ears, each pulse feeding the frustration that’s wound its way up from your chest. He rises slowly, not a word passing his lips, but the tension radiates off him like heat. He’s close enough that his warmth presses against your skin, although it’s not the kind you usually find comforting. It’s almost suffocating.

You turn your focus back to the stubborn strap, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggle to grip it. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him slipping off his shoes, one after the other, the soft thuds barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. He pulls off his suit jacket, carefully smoothing the crumpled fabric before hanging it in the closet. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to let it go… until his gaze drifts back to you.

You can tell his patience is fraying, and you’re proven right when he asks again, “What did you mean by that? When you said you wouldn’t want to stop me from anyone… what was that supposed to mean?”

You finally manage to tug the strap loose. The heel drops to the floor with a muted thump. “It was nothing.”

“I don’t think you’d say something like that if it was nothing.”

Your focus shifts to the other shoe. “Just drop it, Spencer.”

"How am I supposed to drop it when you're implying... whatever it is you're implying?"

You keep your eyes down, wrestling with the strap in silence. He cuts through the quiet before it has a chance to grow.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing when it clearly means something. I need to know why you said that.”

You kick off the other heel and meet his gaze for the first time since you walked into the room. “You really want to know?”

He reaches for his bow tie, yanking it loose it with one hard pull. “Do I want to know why you’re giving me this attitude right now? Yes. Yes, I do.”

Oh. So this is going to be that kind of fight.

You hadn’t expected it to go here. Fights with Spencer are very rare, usually more a clash of misunderstandings that you both laugh about with limbs tangled between sheets by the time you’ve made peace. But seeing him standing there with the tie hanging loosely around his neck and his five o’clock shadow casting an even darker line along his jaw, it hits you differently.

This is real. And this time, you don’t know if brushing it off will fix anything.

“Fine, let’s talk about it then.” You rise from the bed, tension carrying you to your feet. “Emily’s speech tonight.”

His brow furrows, not quite a scowl, more a cautious crease as he processes your tone. “Emily’s speech? What about it?”

“What do you remember of it?”

There’s a slight pause, and you can tell he's clearly caught off guard by the question. “She mentioned how Rossi and Krystal are twin flames."

“Right. Two souls that are always meant to be together.”

His face is still marked by confusion, but there’s something else creeping in. A subtle tightening around his eyes tells you he’s starting to piece it together. “I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“You looked at JJ the second Emily made that speech,” you cut him off. “Spencer, you didn’t even spare a glance at your future wife because you were too busy making eyes at the woman who’s apparently been in love with you all these years.”

There. You said it. The words that have twisted around your insides all evening are finally out. And maybe they taste a little bitter, but at least they're not choking you anymore.

A second passes, then another, and by the time the fifth heartbeat ticks by, he’s standing there with his hand on his hip.

“That’s not what happened."

“Then what was it?” you demand. "I sat beside you the whole day, you didn't even try to hide it."

“That’s not—you’re twisting things.” His hand moves through his hair, fingers digging in as his curls tumble forward onto his forehead. “And you know what happened that night wasn’t real. It was a forced confession. She was under duress, we both were. JJ and I are just friends.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You look at all your friends like that?”

His hand drops to his side. "I don't know what else you want me to say. JJ said what she did because she thought we might die. She has a family, and a husband who she loves. We already went through this, I don't understand why this is suddenly an issue again."

“Maybe I wouldn’t be bringing this up if you didn’t look at her tonight like you were ready to break up that marriage yourself.”

A flash of shock and anger crosses his features.

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve heard in a while. “Do you really think I’d disregard everything I have with you because of a look? Because of a history that has never gone anywhere?”

“I don’t know what to think. It's not like it happened just once, I saw you looking at her the same way at the bar." You step forward, accidentally kicking your discarded heel as you move. "What were you two talking about, anyway?”

He lets out a tight breath. “She was checking in on me. She… we haven’t talked much since then.”

The corners of your mouth pull down. “Mhm. Another round of truth or dare?”

“I can’t believe you’re using that against me." His hair flops forward as he shakes his head, falling messily over his brow. "If there were anything unresolved with JJ, I would’ve said something. But I didn’t, because there’s nothing there."

“And yet, she’s always been an important part of your life, hasn't she?"

He tilts his head. "What are trying to say now?"

Your tongue darts out, briefly brushing your lips. You're not sure you should say it, but it feels like a door has swung open—a door to words that have been waiting for their moment.

You take a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air as you can.

“When you were in prison, you put her on your visiting list ahead of almost everyone else. Doesn’t that say something about where she stands with you?”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“She’s part of the team,” he says, as if he’s trying to spell out something he’s already explained a dozen times. "There were strict rules, I already told you that only a handful of people were allowed to visit. It wasn’t like I could just put anyone on the list.”

“But you could’ve put me on there!”

The familiar burn of tears prickles at the edges of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. An explanation or protest is poised on his lips, but you’re already moving, closing the distance with a single, decisive step. A finger lands on his chest.

“I was your girlfriend, Spencer. Were you that determined to keep me out? Was the thought of seeing me really so unbearable? Do you even understand how hard it was to sit at home, knowing you were locked up, feeling completely helpless? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself day after day because I couldn’t do anything to help you?”

Your lips quiver. You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I was out here, just… waiting. Wondering if you were okay, if they were treating you alright, if you even had someone to talk to. And meanwhile, she’s there, with you. Every single time, she’s the one who gets to be by your side.”

Your nail digs into the fabric of his shirt.

“So forgive me if I can’t just let that go. Because when it mattered, it felt like you didn’t want me to be there for you. And now… now I don’t even know if you need me the way you seem to need her.”

Your breathing turns shallow, each inhale catching in your chest. The tears you’ve been holding back are dangerously blurring your vision. You swallow the knot lodged in your throat.

“I need a minute.”

Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. You slip back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you finally reach for the glass of water that’s been sitting there untouched. You take a sip, barely feeling the cool water on your lips, when you hear his footsteps behind you.

“You think I don’t want you in my life?” he demands. “You think I somehow need her more than I need you?”

You set the glass down. “What part of ‘I need a minute’ do you not understand?”

“You really expect me to wait quietly after you unloaded every doubt you’ve ever had about us?”

You life your chin up. “Yes, I do. I need space to think right now.”

“What more do you want to think about when you’ve already convinced yourself that I’m always going to fall short? Is it so hard to believe that you’re the one I want?”

“You want to know why it’s so damn hard to believe?” You turn towards him. “Because every time I try to let this go, there’s always something. A confession. That—that not-so-subtle look. And when those things happen, it reminds me that I’m not as close to you as she is. I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m fighting for space in your life.”

“Do you think I want you to feel like that? Do you think I’d go through everything we’ve been through if you didn’t matter to me?”

“Then explain to me why I wasn’t on that list!” you cry out. “Explain to me why, in one of the hardest times of your life, you couldn’t make space for me?”

“Because I was trying to protect you!”

A heavy, dreadful silence falls between you. He takes a step back, his eyelids fluttering shut briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that mirrors the gentleness now threading through his voice.

“I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, and maybe it never will, but I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing me like that. Living through it was hard enough, but having you there, seeing me so helpless… It would have crushed me. I didn’t want that to be your memory of me.”

His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, a quick, almost anxious movement you’ve witnessed countless times.

“And when JJ came to see me,” he continues, “the way the inmates looked at her, the things they said after she left… it was disgusting. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen to you. I couldn’t live with thought of you being subjected to that because of me.”

You lower your head with a sigh. “I don’t care if they looked. I don’t care what they would’ve thought.”

“But I care,” he fires back, taking a step forward. “Because you mean more to me than anyone. All I wanted was to keep you safe, and maybe I didn't handle it right, maybe I made the wrong call... but it was only because I—" His voice drops into an even more gentle note. "Because I love you."

Your heart stumbles, an uneven beat that feels almost bruised, pounding hard against your ribs.

"I-I love you so much. More than I know how to put into words." The ache in your chest sharpens as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. "I don't like fighting with you. I hate it, actually. I hate seeing you look at me like this."

You also hate the way he’s looking at you. There’s a depth to his annoyingly pretty eyes that makes it impossible to hold up your defenses without feeling them crumble. You let your eyes flutter closed.

“Why don’t we… call it a night?” He suggests. “Let’s lie down. We don’t have to talk about this now.”

The blackness behind your eyelids does little to quiet your mind. Nor does his voice. Or his touch. Instead of offering peace, his presence throws every glance, every moment of tension from tonight into sharper relief.

You draw in a breath, trying to find some comfort in his palms against your cheeks. Yet, even this can’t smooth away the doubt that’s settled in. With a resigned sigh, you release the breath you’ve been holding along with the words that have been pressing at the back of your throat.

“You haven’t explained it to me.”

The shadows in his gaze seem to deepen when you open your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been going in circles, but you haven’t explained to me what happened tonight,” you say quietly. “Why did you look at her, Spencer?”

His thumb absently strokes your cheek in a way that feels more hesitant than reassuring.

“Be honest with me,” you press. “Was there a part of you, even the tiniest part, that still wanted something with her? Some small part of you that… wondered what it might be like?”

The silence between you presses in from all sides, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled ticking of a clock on the wall. It’s the kind of quiet that sharpens even the smallest sounds, yet his lack of response feels like the loudest thing of all.

You pull back from him with an incredulous laugh.

“Unbelievable.” The word barely makes it past your lips, then louder as you start to move, pacing the length of the apartment. “Unbelievable.”

“Wait,” he says, trailing after you, “I didn’t even say anything.”

You stop short by the couch and whip around to face him.

“You didn’t need to! You—you hesitated," you stammer, searching his face for any flicker of denial, but it’s there, plain as day, that split-second of doubt you caught. “That was already an answer.”

He inches closer. A hand closes in on you. “Please—”

You flinch, pulling back, and every muscle in your body tightens. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now.”

His hand falls to his side. “Please… let me explain."

You watch his hand drop, fingers twitching like they’re not sure if they should retreat or reach out again, but he keeps them there, hovering in some invisible line you’ve drawn. He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, and for a split second, you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

A bitter sort of smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "So now you want to explain?"

He takes that as permission, and his voice comes in low, almost cautious. "When I first started at the BAU, I had… maybe a crush. A passing thing, barely anything, really. But that was fourteen years ago.” His hand scrubs through his hair in a frustrated sweep. “Fourteen years."

Your brows pull into a frown. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because it was nothing,” he says, almost too quickly. “I was young, it didn’t matter. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up.”

“Oh, I get it now. All those old feelings came rushing back the night she confessed, didn’t they?”

He mirrors your frown, a visible line of tension etching itself between his brows as he protests, “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” you press. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a whole lot like you’re caught between us because some part of you is still hung up on what might’ve been with her."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you notice the muscles in his jaw clenching the moment his gaze falters, dipping away for just a heartbeat before he looks back at you.

“It’s not that I don’t know what I want,” he starts to explain. “I didn’t expect her to say those things, and, yes, it threw me off for a moment. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking back, or that I want her. I want you.”

You shake your head, feeling a tired sort of frustration settle over you, and walk over to the couch. The soft cushions give slightly beneath you as you sink down.

“If you really wanted me, this wouldn’t be happening. You wouldn’t have let her get into your head like that. And now, you expect to believe that none of it meant anything?”

He’s quick to follow, closing the distance in a few tense steps. “It’s not—” His hands flex open and close at his sides. “You’re acting like one single look tonight is enough to decide I’m not committed to you. Do you really think I’d let some confession I didn’t even ask for get in the way of what we have?”

“It’s not just about that single look. It’s the way she could say something and suddenly, you’re pulled back to something you swore you’d put behind you. How am I supposed to feel secure when she still has that power over you?”

“And what am I supposed to do, then? Apologize for things I don’t even feel anymore?”

You flinch at the sharpness in his voice. A low, frustrated noise rumbles in his chest when you don’t respond.

“You’re always going to question me no matter what I say, aren’t you?"

You glance over at him, catching the disheveled strands of hair falling over his forehead, and it pulls you back to that night he came home after that dreadful night. He’d walked in looking worn in a way you’d never seen before, his whole posture weighted down as if he was carrying more than just the fear of being held hostage.

You remember sitting with him on this same couch, fingers brushing his, and asking what was bothering him.

JJ said she loved me.

Your heart lurched, a quick, quiet ache that you tried to swallow down. Really?

Don’t worry. It’s not true.

But with that same haunted look in his eyes right now, you can’t help but wonder if it really was just a well-intentioned lie.

“One glance and you’re accusing me of things that are never going to happen,” he starts again. “Do you really think so little of me? After everything we’ve shared, you really think I’d betray you like that?”

In true honesty, you don’t believe he would ever cross that line. But the doubts still linger, fed by those small hesitations, the moments when his eyes seem somewhere else. It’s not that you think he’d betray you. It’s that a part of him might still be holding onto something he won’t let you see.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Now those words you might actually believe.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say quietly, eyes drifting to the ring on your finger. You twist it absently, remembering the night he proposed. How he’d stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing as he tried to make the moment perfect but ended up rambling in that endearing, nervous way of his. You’d laughed, reassured him that it was exactly right, that you didn’t need grand gestures. All you needed was him.

And yet, you don’t think he needs you as much you need him.

A hollow ache settles around your hand as you slip the ring off.

“What are you doing?”

You stare down at the gold band in your palm, blinking back the sting of tears.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

Panic. Desperation. There’s a sudden rush of melancholy in his voice, a heaviness that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I—I don’t know anything right now.”

His face crumples, and in a sudden, almost instinctive movement, he drops down to his knees.

“No, no, you do know me. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Isn’t this—” he stops, then dips his head, trying to catch your gaze. “Isn’t that what couples do? They argue, they mess things up… but they work through it, right? Right?”

You look down, feeling the cool weight of the ring pressing into your skin.

“Spencer…” you begin. “I trust you. I do, and I’m sorry if I made it seem like I didn’t. But… I need to feel secure. I… I need to know that I don’t have to wonder or worry about where I stand. I never thought you’d be the one to make me doubt that.”

There’s a sharp ache in your chest.

“I didn’t think it could hurt this much. Not from you.”

Your pulse ring in your ear.

“I can’t—” The words catch in your throat, a stinging burn rising as you force them out. “I can’t be your wife when I’m constantly questioning if I have all of you. When I feel like… there’s always a part of you that isn’t mine.”

“I’m yours, honey. I’m always yours.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

There’s a slight falter in his voice. “Don’t—please don’t do this—”

“I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He falls silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the rough, uneven rhythm of both your breaths filling the space between you. Then, like something inside him finally cracks open, he sinks down, pressing his forehead against your lap. The sudden weight of him forces a broken sob from your throat.

“Please,” he begs, fingers clutching at your sides. His chin presses deep into your thigh. “Tell me how to fix this. I can’t— I can’t lose you.”

“Spence…”

“I love you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling from him in a rush. “I love you.”

But what is love, really? Is it just a word people reach for when they’ve run out of things to say, a way to patch over bruised hearts and broken promises? Or should it feel like something more solid, something that doesn’t leave you questioning or aching? You can’t even tell anymore.

You wonder, too, if maybe you’ve been wrong all along. If this feeling in your chest isn’t love but something dressed up as it, something that fills the gaps while slowly hollowing you out. Because here you are, clinging to a love that somehow makes you feel like you’re both needed and unseen. Everything and nothing all at once.

You feel like a fool.

“I want to go to bed.”

His head lifts from your lap, a flash of surprise darting across his face, as though he hadn’t expected you to say anything at all, let alone that. “Yeah, okay, let’s go to bed. We’ll… we’ll figure this out in the morning.”

“I’d rather be alone.”

The words hit him visibly. His mouth opens, an argument forming there, but he catches himself, letting the silence stretch before he nods slowly.

“Then… I’ll stay out here. On the couch,” he offers softly. “Just… in case you need anything.”

A pang cuts through you at the thought of him stretched out on the couch, his legs too long, his shoulders folded in to fit the cramped space. But the idea of sharing a bed right now feels impossible.

You reach down, holding out the ring towards him.

“No,” he says firmly, gently pushing your hand away. “Don’t do that. This… it doesn’t mean we’re giving up. It just means we need time. That’s all.”

You’re not sure if your mind will change in the morning. The ring presses into your skin, but finally, you close your hand around it, nodding faintly before you peel away from him.

The tears start the moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind you. It spills over in a jagged, helpless cry that sounds nothing like you imagined heartbreak might sound. It’s messy, a kind of aching grief that feels too big for your chest, clawing its way out with no grace at all. You can practically hear how pathetic you sound, and yet you can’t seem to stop.

Even when the hem of your dress trails across the floor. Even when you finally collapse onto his side of the bed. There’s no stopping you. With the ring sitting cold in your hand, your tears keep coming, soaking into the pillow as you cling to the last trace of him woven into the sheets.

[paarksunghoon]

can you write something with soft dom bestfriend!jake eating out inexperienced!shy!reader after he finds out she’s never done stuff like that before (with lots of praise plz) tyyy

I shied away from the suuuper innocent/shy trope but kept some elements in there

***

“No one’s ever eaten you out before?”

“Jake!”

He throws his hands up like he’s asking an innocent questions. “Hey, I’m not judging you for it! It’s just that…you’ve hooked you with a few people, haven’t you?” Jake watches you hug one of your plushies against your chest.

“Once.” Your cheeks feel warm and you resist the urge to hide your face behind the soft object. “I don’t do it often. You know that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with not hooking up. What happened?”

You can’t meet your best friend’s eye. “He just…finished too soon and didn’t do anything else.”

“That’s deplorable.”

“Tell me about it.”

“He didn’t want to taste you?”

You sigh and lie back down on your mattress, shutting your eyes while keeping the plushie between your arms and pinned against your chest. Jake looks at you and sees your feet planted on the bed as you keep your knees bent. The sleep shorts you’re wearing aren’t nothing new. He’s seen you wear it plenty of times but tonight, it feels a little bit different.

You, on the other hand, don’t feel Jake’s wandering eyes. You’re too mortified talking about this kind of stuff because your best friend is far more experienced with sex than you are. He’s athletic, attractive, and someone who jumped at the chance to sleep around once he started university. You wouldn’t consider yourself someone people naturally gravitate towards and despite knowing Jake since the beginning of middle school, sex is the one topic you struggle to talk about with him.

But Jake, the ever persistent best friend who just wants the best for you, won’t let it go. He rarely pries into your sex life and if you’re talking to anybody because he’s typically the one who’s preoccupied with hookups or casual flings.

It’s currently the peak of spring and it’s starting to get warmer outside. One of your windows is cracked open and amidst your inner turmoil, you hear the crickets chirping outside. You don’t see Jake’s eyes glance over your bare legs and how he gulps when his gaze reaches the shirt you’re wearing that’s riding up to show a small portion of your stomach.

“Not all of us have a lot of experience, okay?!”

“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with me.”

“No,” Jake says, pulling the plushy from your arms and throwing it beside him, “but I know you better than you know yourself. I know you compare how many people you’ve slept with to me.”

You evert his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with sleeping around.” Your best friend laughs.

“I know. It doesn’t make me happy anymore but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to have sex, Y/N.”

You huff and pull yourself up on your elbows to look at Jake. His annoyingly boyish charms and freshly dyed, dark brown hair make him look like a supermodel underneath your ambient lighting. The room is dimly lit with hues of pink and yellow, and you don’t know if Jake’s looking extra delectable because of the light or because you’ve started to look at him differently.

“Easy for you to say. People want to have sex with you.”

Jake bites back a retort. “I bet people want to have sex with you too.” You roll your eyes.

“If I were a guy, I’ll bet I could stare at a girl and know I’d be getting some.” You hear him laugh but that does nothing to quell your embarrassment. Jake sits up and scoots closer until he’s looking down at you.

“What is it that you really want?”

“Jaeyun.”

“I dunno, maybe if you say it then you’ll manifest it, or some shit.” Jake doesn’t know why but he likes that you can’t make eye contact with him.

“I…”

You finally look at him. He tilts his head and nods once. “Go on.”

“I just…I want someone to make me feel good, okay?”

“That can’t be all you want. There’s gotta be something more.”

“I want a guy to eat me out. Happy?” It’s embarrassing to say out loud. Jake grins.

“Very. Now you’re manifesting this into reality.”

“You’re really weird, Jake.” He laughs.

“So you tell me.” He brings his finger up to your bare knee and traces a random pattern that makes you feel tingly. It’s a new feeling around your best friend and you look at him curiously.

“More guys should eat girls out,” he says, cutting the silence abruptly. “Guys say they’re good at fucking but they never get anyone off.”

You groan. “Everybody sucks. It seems like no guy likes to go down on a girl, or whatever.”

“Some do.”

“You mean to tell me there are some guys who actually like eating a girl out?”

“Yes.” Jake looks down at you and holds your eye. He doesn’t move and you watch as his fingers start to grip the comforter. You speak after a long pause. He doesn’t break eye contact.

“A-Are you saying you like to do that?”

He doesn’t let up the eye contact. “I love it. Could do it forever.”

You gulp. “R-Really?”

Jake nods. “Yeah.”

“What do you like about it?” Your voice, ever so timid and testing the waters, makes him excited.

He licks his lips. “I like the taste the most. Always so nice and wet. Sweet, almost. I like the way it feels too. Makes me think I’m about to die.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?”

“No. I’d be happy if eating pussy was the last thing I did.”

The look he gives you is unlike anything you’ve ever seen from him before. His mouth twitches while he sits in front of you and you’re beside yourself when you rub your legs together. Jake doesn’t make a move to touch you but his steady gaze makes you squirm.

“Are you…offering?”

Jake chuckles. “Would it be bad if I was?” Not really.

“Honestly? Not really…”

“Let me take your shorts off, mkay?”

Jake hooks his fingers around your flimsy sleep shorts and pulls them down slowly as you feel the fabric glide against your inner thighs. The cool air provides an electric shock to your mound and you realize then just how wet you’ve become.

Your best friend opens up your legs to little resistance and finds you too cute when you bunch up your pillows to rest your back against it. He toys with you for a moment, using his thumb to gently brush over your slit while grunting at how wet your panties have become. Jake pulls them aside and is met by the place you need him the most.

“Do you want me to eat your pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” you moan, feeling his warm breath over your wet folds.

Jake doesn’t answer you. Instead, he pushes his head down and spreads his tongue all over you and moans at the first taste. You’re so warm and tense underneath his touch and his hands come to your thighs to keep them pried open but at the same time, Jake rubs his palm all over your skin to soothe your rigidness.

His hands support your legs too, forcing them open when you start to close in. It feels like he’s spreading you apart across the board and looking down at him makes your heart beat even faster. Jake looks so lost in his own pleasure while making you feel good too. His eyes are closed and his lashes kiss his cheeks in a way that makes him look heaven sent.

His tongue feels amazing and this sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. The wet slurping and constant pressure feels like you’re about to burst into a million pieces at any moment and you’re sure you’d become addicted to this if every guy made you feel the way your best friend does.

It should feel weird to have him touching you like this. You’ve only thought about him in the bedroom a handful of times before shaming away these feelings towards your best friend but looking down at him with his eyes closed and tongue pressed so deep inside of you makes your legs shake and toes curl.

You come without a warning and Jake encourages your loud string of moans when he licks you clean, lapping your wetness up like a dog drinking water. Jake’s face is so messy and so wet with your sheen and his spit before he wipes himself with the back of his hand.

He looks up at you before you can get a word out. “Let me do that again.”

[jimmybutlrr]

Missed or Licked

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Average Height Thick brown-skinned Women

Warnings : 18+, Mature Content (Cursing , Teasing and smut), Missing good dick.

Summary: Missing dick could be dangerous

A/N: I have decided that I will be releasing my smut fanfictions first, then fluffy, Drama etc. just because it's easier and as always, feedback would be appreciated😁*Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future writings.

“Do I really have to work? Why can’t I just quit and life would work itself out..…....nevermind, I sound dumb as hell, let me shut up and get out of this car”. She said laughing at herself, Alisha started getting ready to exit her car when she heard a knock on her driver's side window. She looks to see her co-worker Terry Richmond (Who by the way is in a tight fitted shirt, showcasing his big veiny arms and thick chest ). Winding down her window “ Terry, hi”  she said confused, wondering why the hell he was at her window.

“Sorry to bother, I was just wondering if you're alright” He wondered staring into her eyes, “I’m good just.. preparing myself, for the long ass day ahead of me” she said feeling a little flustered, as he continues to stare into her eye’s not daring to look away. 

Alisha and Terry had a bit of a complicated history together. They met in a Walmart parking lot, when she was clearly struggling to fit her tv into her car. Which brought the attention of Terry, Sparking up a conversion between the two which ended with her bringing up that she wanted help moving some items into her home. Terry agreed, asking to swap information. After a few days of talking, Terry was in her living room and  helped her move furniture where she wanted it, putting up her tv etc.

Time went on and Terry got tired of the unspoken tension, which ended up with Alisha’s legs on either side of her head, being filled to the brim with dick and hot tears falling down her face. A memory she remembers so vividly. 

Their situationship came to a stop when he left the state and stopped answering her text, which left her a little broken because you can’t find dick like that just anywhere. Time passed, she moved, switched jobs and found out that Terry was one of the warehouse workers while she worked as the receptionist in the building beside it.  

Throughout the time they worked there, they had stolen glances at each other and greetings but never daring to engage in a conversation. 

A few minutes went by before Alisha broke eye contact, the need to let him spread her open was too great to start ignoring. “Sorry, but I have to get out of the car, so if you could move” Alisha said trying to open her door “I just wanted to say I'm sorry for leaving you, there was some family business that I had to take care of” Terry said hoping that what he said was taken into consideration.

Alisha pushed her car door open and stood up as Terry walked backwards giving her space to get out of her car. Reaching forward to grab Terry by his arm, she pulled him in  closing the space between them believing what he said. If it were her family, she would have done the same no doubt. “I believe you, I was just a little heartbroken that you filled me to the brim, Touching spots that no other man is able to reach, then decided to leave a day after that”. 

She said, whispering in his ear while staring into his eyes, seeing a shocked expression on his face, moving to the right side of his face,she grabbed his body to support herself on her tiptoes.  “I’m just a little hurt because I wanted you in my throat but I guess…… that fantasy will no longer happen”. The feeling of her breath tickling his ears as she spoke, Alisha  looked down to see him wrapping his big, veiny arms around her body, he bent his face down to level their faces going as close as possible to her face that  if you were a person just a few feet from them, you would think they were kissing.

“Who said that can’t happen here, hm”. Terry mumbled, his eyes moved from her eyes to her lips feeling bold, she closed the space between them, pulling his face towards hers. She open mouth kissed him, making Terry press his body even more into hers, pushing his tongue in her mouth, roaming her mouth with his tongue endlessly trying to lick every inch of her mouth. They both stumbled back into the open door of the car Terry pulled back, picking Alisha up with one arm and his hand squeezed her ass, moving to kick the door closed while simultaneously opening the back door, laying Alisha down, kissing down her neck.

 “Terry, wait” Alisha breathlessly said  “Sit down, I wanna you in my mouth” “Are you sure” “Yes, I want to show you how much I missed you”. Terry kissed her, lifting her on top of his lap her hands roamed his body. She slowly removed her lips from his, bringing her body down between his legs. Staring at him in his eyes, she pulled his belt buckle open while her mouth was practically slobbering, waiting to be filled with his pink tipped dick. She pulls his pants to his knees with the help of him raising his hips and freeing the one thing that she truly missed.

She stared at the sight before her,  admiring his pink fat tip dripping with pre - cum, her eyes making its way down his thick hard dick with prominent thick veins littering his dick with fat heavy shaven balls. Alisha took one long lick from the base to the tip, circling her tongue around the tip slowly sucking “ohhh fuckk, mmhm”. Terry moaned looking down from half opened eyes at the complete brown skinned goddess taking his dick in her throat. Alisha continues to suck the tip, slowly inching down his thick dick down her throat.

“Stop playing with me, open your throat” he demands, putting one of his hands  under your chin making you look up into his eyes “ Open your mouth as wide as possible” he said trying to stuff her mouth with his dick. 

As his dick reaches the back of your throat, you gag, making him inch out. “When I go in, take a deep breath, when I retract, you exhale, understood”. “Yes,” Alisha tried to say with her mouth half full. “You ready,” Alisha nodded, ready to take whatever he gave her. Terry inches back down her throat, Alisha following his instructions, suppresses her gag reflex. Terry roughly starts to fuck your face, grabbing your $500 raw bundles.

When he gets to the back of your throat, he holds your head there for a few seconds moaning at the feeling “Shiiitt, this throat is so good, fuuck”. He continues to fuck your face, tears start decorating your face, with the help of your silva falling down your chin. 

His moans motivating you to swallow and moan on his dick causing him to let out a string of moans. He starts fucking your face faster making the car shake, creating a rhythm between the two of you. “ oohhh, ssss, i'm gonna nut, you ready for it” Alisha nods her head ready suck this man dry as soon as his grip gets weak, “Shit , Shit, Shit, hmmmhmhmm” He groans, busting a fat nut. Alisha takes the opportunity to grab his hands, pinning them into the seat of the car. 

Twisting and sucking his tip with the help of her tongue, she sucks up the mess he made while staring him in his eyes. Terry ‘s eyes roll back, he bites his lip and moans ”my god”  he overpowers her grabbing her head pushing it back and a deep exhale. He finally feels relieved that she is no longer trying to push him past more than he can take. Terry stares up at the ceiling as Alisha pulls his pants up, tucking his dick back into his pants.

“I left you speechless, didn’t I big boy” Alisha laughed. Terry drops down his head, grabbing Alisha pulling her in for a kiss. “I'm so glad that I” and before Terry could finish his sentence, there was a knock on the window making them turn there heads towards the notice, “THE FUCK, YA’LL DOING IN THERE”.

Tags -

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@blackgurlnhermoods

@easybrezzy

@planetblaque

@urfavblackbimbo

@jenlovey

@avoidthings

@kimuzostar

@skvrpion

@theereina

@megamindsecretlair

@theereina

@melaninpov

@mscarter213

[wild-rise]

All of It <3

MDNI 18+

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Summary: After years of pining and obsessing over you Daryl finally works up the courage to tell you how he feels.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Language, P in V, Fingering, Oral (F! Receiving), Size kink if you squint  

*Knock Knock*

No answer.  

*Knock Knock*

Not a single sound.

You slowly turn the doorknob into Daryl’s room and invite yourself in like it’s your second home. Walking in you hear the shower running in the bathroom, no matter. You walk through his living space observing whatever projects he has scattered across his work bench and…. *thump*. Two paws are suddenly on your back and a snout dug into your side.

“Hey Dog, my sweet boy whatcha doin!” You say excitedly to the furry companion Daryl has grown attached to over the years. You head to the couch and cuddle with Dog waiting on Daryl to finish his shower leaning your head back and enjoying the mundane moment.

Soon the water shuts off and the familiar rummaging of drawers and doors opening and closing fill the room. Daryl emerges sliding down the rest of his shirt

 “Make sure to get behind the ears?” you tease him, and he looks over to you with his half smile “No, the water gets back there anyway so it’s fine, you ready to go?” he says reaching for his vest. “I hope you’re joking right? You know you have to actually scrub back there, right? I mean all that hair on your head things could be living back there Daryl you really chancing that in this day and age?” you continue badgering him till you’re outside getting on his bike.

 “Clearly I scrub behind my ears damn ya think I’m that dirty?” Daryl says shaking his head at you as he throws his leg over the bike.

“I can honestly say I haven’t had the pleasure of finding out how dirty you are Dixon.” You tease him with a smirk on your face, he turns around to spare you a glance and you give him a wink. “Stop it weirdo” his cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink as he looks forward and gets you both on your way.

Every morning it was like this the two of you would go out for a hunt and scout the woods around the community trying to find whatever supplies you could for the people back home. This was the best part of your day being able to spend time out in your element while also spending time with Daryl. Life felt at peace for the first time in a long time.

“Whatta ya thinkin?” Daryl asks as you both track through the woods following the game you shot down. “Just how much I enjoy this, being out here, being able to provide and help out, being with you.” Daryl stops and stares at you like you just told him your biggest secret. “What? It’s true, this is the best part of my day, and I get to spend it with you making it even better.” You try explaining the simplicity of what you said while trying to decipher the puzzled look plastered on Daryl’s face. “Why are you looking at me like that??”  you say trying to figure out what the hell he’s thinking now.

Out of nowhere Daryl’s in your space bringing his hands up to cup your face as he leans down and kisses you. At first your eyes are open in shock but as the moment progresses your lids close and you start kissing back. The kiss is slow and passionate but becomes hot and needy as Daryl slides his tongue across your bottom lip begging for entry. You happily oblige and a small whimper leaves your mouth as your tongues tangle together. You both pull away trying to catch your breath feeling dizzy. Daryl looks down at you “I’m sorry I just I dunno I, you were…. *Sigh*… I like you. You’re the best part of my day.” A smile breaks out across your face at his confession and your heart flutters. “I like you too.” You lean up to give him a chaste kiss before breaking the contact completely as much as you didn’t want to “c’mon we’re gonna lose that pig to some walkers if you don’t keep it in your pants.” You laugh as you walk ahead.

“And then he kissed me!” you hide your face in your palms to try and make the red go away.

“He kissed you AND said he liked you? When’s the wedding?” Carol says chuckling at your bashfulness.

“I’m serious I really like him but he’s my best friend I don’t want to screw it up.”

“You won’t” Carol reassures you and pats your back. “You will regret it though if you don’t even give yourself a chance to explore what this could be and every moment counts so quite worrying, get up and go find Daryl.” Her pats have now turned to light shoves as she pushes you in the direction of his house. “Okay! Okay! I’m going but if this goes wrong just remember you have to deal with me a lot more!” you shout down the street at her “I’ll take my chances!” she yells back smiling at you.

Here you were again

*Knock Kn-

The door swings open and Darryl is standing in front of you in only his jeans while shaking a towel on his head trying to dry his hair. Without even saying a word he moves aside to let you in, and you fall onto the couch letting out a dramatic sigh. “What a day huh?” you stare up at the ceiling trying to avoid staring at Daryl's naked torso, the perfect contour of his muscles that travel all the way to his massive...

“Hey, did ya hear me?” Daryl says snapping his fingers in front of your face. “Huh? What? Yeah, of course you we’re saying something about that thing for the other thing.” You tried to play it off but lying has never been your strong suit and he just lets out a sigh.

Daryl walks over to the couch and lifts your legs to sit down and brings them back up to rest over his lap looking at the ceiling now too. “You gonna be weird now?” your gaze drifts down to look at him and he’s already looking at you. “I’m not being weird I was just thinking.” Your eyes betray you as they fall to Daryl's lips, scanning his chest following his happy trail to the top of his jeans

 “Ya just did it again! Ya know if this thang right here is gonna work, ya can’t just use me for my body.” Daryl jokes as he motions between the two of you. “What are you even going on about right now? I wasn’t even looking at you my god Daryl!” the embarrassment evident in your voice. “You were totally checking me out.” He says as his hands graze up your leg and he begins to tower over you. “So, what if I was?” your voice barley above a whisper as you’re both face to face with one another. “Like I said sweetheart, you can’t just use me for my body. I have feelings ya know.” Your cheeks are now beat red and there’s nowhere to hide from his teasing.

“Stop being an ass. I clearly like you for you dummy.” You bring up your arms to his chest in a sad excuse to try and push him off you, but he just laughs and holds your hands putting them above your head and intertwining your fingers in his. “I know I just like to see you get red as a damn tomato it’s cute.” His eyes were filled with playfulness trying to get any reaction out of you that he could as he chuckled at your embarrassed state. Suddenly you lean up and kiss Daryl, making the laughs quite down and now his face is just as red as yours. “Now who’s a tomato?” you let out your own light chuckle now and lean up to do it again and again and again till Daryl is hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Who knew a couple kisses would take you down.” you smile. Daryl picks his head up to look at you. “Who’s being the ass now?” he locks his eyes in on you again.

“At least I’m not a tomato”

“I’d rather be a tomato than an ass”

“Yeah, that does seem to be the better option.” You say giggling together now. Daryl’s gaze intensifies as he keeps staring from your eyes to your lips like he’s conflicted on the next move to make. Finally, he dips his head down and lightly kisses you again gently moving his lips across yours. You squeeze his hands as the kiss deepens and out of instinct you roll your hips up to meet with Daryl’s earning a soft moan from his chest.

 “Ya really want this. All of it?” You know what he means. Daryl hasn’t always been the best person with the best past and he often feels he isn’t worthy of much, especially you. You’re perfect for him, everything about you makes his heart ache. From the first day Daryl met you at the quarry, he knew he was a goner, but the feeling of inadequacy kept him from pursuing you as anything other than a friend. “Yeah, I do. I’m all in Dixon. You’re stuck with me now.”

“You’ve been stuck with me from the start doll.” Daryl leans back down to capture your lips with his and the rolling of your hips starts again. He slowly moves down your jawline and neck finding that sweet spot that has you moaning out his name. He untangles your hands, bringing his down to caress the curves of your body until he’s tugging at the hem of your shirt.

 You both lean up as he takes it off throwing it on his floor and continuing to kiss you with every ounce of passion he has while he skillfully removes your bra with one hand. You break the kiss “Ah impressive, thought you’d fumble with that for a minute.”  You giggle again. God, he loves the sound it just encourages him to see how many other sounds he’s able to pull out of you. “Pretty good with my hands doll.” He says leaning you both down and he gives another kiss on the lips before he’s moving down your body following the valley of your breast making sure to pay attention to each of your pebbled nipples. He latches onto one and lightly pinches the other between his fingers.

The sound of you moaning his name becoming a drug for him as he moves down further leaving kisses on your hip bones and tummy above your jeans. Taking them off gently followed by your panties Daryl is face to face with your dripping core. He can’t stop staring at the sight until his eyes flicker up at you trying to close your legs on him. “You’re a tomato again.” He laughs at you “Well you’re starring what do you expect!” you huff out in defeat “Just relax baby ima make you feel good promise.” He says as he spreads your legs holding them open by wrapping his large arms around your thighs.

“Ah fuck Daryl” you moan as he licks right through your sopping slit and circles his tongue around your clit. Damit, he knew now he could never go another day without tasting you for the rest of his life. After that Daryl dove in eating like it was his last meal on earth you were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. You were so wet, and he was so messy making it the perfect combination for urging the tight feeling in your tummy to snap. “I’m gonna ah, fuc- Daryl, close ugh I’m so close please please don’t stop fuck!”  Your begging and whining go straight to his cock straining on the confines of his jeans. Focusing on sucking in your clit he unwraps one of your legs and brings his hand to your core. Giving you a single finger has you arching your back and begging him for a release. “Daryl fuck please baby please.” You’re barely holding on “Let go ma it’s okay. I got you c’mon give it to me.”  After his words of encouragement and returning to his assault on your clit the band in your belly finally snaps and Daryl is lapping up every last drop you have to give.

 He keeps going and your hands tangle in his hair trying to push his head away from the overstimulation. He finally lets up and crashes his lips into you in a hungry kiss letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Daryl stands up undoing his belt making the anticipation run straight to your core. Removing his jeans and boxers his cock springs free his red angry tip leaking precum slapping against his abs. He’s so fucking big. Honestly you weren’t sure what to expect but now you have a tinge of nervousness attempting to figure out how he'll fit inside you.

 “Don’t worry sweetheart I’ll go slow, okay?” as if he senses your uneasiness, he crawls back on top of you giving you another loving kiss. You start to push his chest, and he lifts his head confused.

 “Lay back.” You whisper against his lips and Daryl sits back against the couch his legs spread out. You get up swinging a leg over straddling his lap with his cock nestled between the two of you.

“Don’t hurt yourself doll whatta doin?” he says as you start aligning his cock with you dripping entrance.

“You’ve been doing all the work let me make you feel good too.”  He looks at you with so much adoration in his eyes. With your hands gripping his shoulders you slowly start taking in his cock inch by inch with tears forming in your eyes as you finally reach the bottom. He stops you from moving by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush to his chest allowing you to adjust to his size. You both stay holding each other his cock twitching against your walls.

 “As much as it turns me on with you cryin over my cock like that I waited too long for this. Don’t worry about me let me make you feel good baby.”  Daryl brings you back down to the couch and slowly starts rocking his hips into you with your legs wrapped around his waist. “Fuck you feel so fuckin good doll. Never gonna let you go fuck. You’re so fucking perfect, fucking beautiful, god damnit.” Daryl continues to praise you as his pace becomes faster and his strokes start getting deeper. You’re moaning and crying out his name like a mantra you’ve never felt so much pleasure before. The added love and adoration he was pouring into you only fueled the satisfaction.

 He keeps hitting that deep spot in your body just right and it has you teetering on the edge again begging for him to keep going. You cry out as he lifts your legs over his shoulders, hitting deeper than before. “Taking me so damn good doll, doing s-so fuckin good” He stutters as his hips move fast chasing both your highs. He reaches his hand down to rub fast tight circles against your clit pushing you over the edge. “Cum- Im cumm- Daryl fuck!”

“Cum on me baby c’mon, show me it’s all yours mmake a – fuck, mess on me swee-god damnit- theart.” Your release triggers Darryl’s, with his hips stuttering and hot ropes of his cum filling you up to the brim. He rides both of your highs out till his hips stop and he collapses onto of you but holding his weight to keep from crushing you. Both of you are panting like you’ve just finished running a marathon.  Daryl rolls over, dragging you on top of him holding you in his arms like if he lets go, you’d disappear. Both of your faces are hidden in each other’s necks.

“I love you. I always have and I always will. It’s okay if you don’t but I just wanted ta let ya know that I love you so god damn much.” Daryl breaks the silence with his confession and tears spring to your eyes again and you bring your hands up to lift his face seeing him eye to eye.

“I love you too Daryl.” Your voice sounds so soft and sweet to his ears and hearing you say those words sends his heart thumping in his ears. “You’re still the tomato if you’re wondering” you say with a little smirk playing on your lips. “Okay ass.” he says, making you both laugh.

 After cleaning up and settling into bed you drifted off to sleep curled into Daryl's chest as he lightly played with your hair while Dog slept by your feet. Daryl smiled to himself and kissed the top of your head thinking of all the moments to come that would be just like this one.

[bontentrio]

ATEEZ GETTING OUT OF THE FRIENDZONE

yunho x gn reader + yeosang x gn reader (separated)

part 2 to ateez stuck in the friendzone! read that part so this makes sense

tw: fluff fluff fluff + alcohol, being drunk and jealousy in yeosang’s (+ possible mistakes since english is not my first language)

a/n: this was supposed to be posted last night but i kinda forgot oopsie

masterlist

YUNHO

another week, another game night at yunho’s place. the only difference is that this time yeosang was there, along with wooyoung and san who invited themselves over. at first, yunho mentally groaned, really looking forward to spend time with you, alone. but then it became bearable, since you decided to stick to his side as you cheered for him while he played against yeosang in mortal kombat. a tough challenge indeed, since both are insane players with a huge armery of combat combinations and special techniques.

wooyoung and san were sitting on the floor and were being as loud as ever, cheering and gasping at the bloody animations. meanwhile, you sat next to yunho, arm wrapped behind his back as you played with his ear. this was really distracting him from the game, since your body was pressing against his side while your soft touches caressed his ear and side of his face. every time you laughed at something wooyoung and san did or say, he would get hit by yeosang’s character due to him losing his focus. how could he though? when your face was so close to his and your laugh was like music to his ears?

despite his lack of attention to the game, yunho’s face remained serious and unreadable. for anyone else in the room, he was getting in a competitive mood. yet, you knew better.

“you okay, baby?” you asked, after he lost the first round. he quickly glanced at you, before returning to face the tv humming and nodding. “just a little distracted, that’s all” he said, quickly pressing on the different buttons on the controller. just in case, you decided to retrieve your hand, maybe the reason why he was distracted was because your touches tickled him. he shot you a quick look almost immediately, not actually wanting you to stop. “don’t stop, keep doing that” he ordered, eyes back on the tv. you chuckled “okay baby”.

unbeknownst to you and yunho, wooyoung and san saw the whole interaction, while yeosang quickly glanced at you as well. they all knew how yunho felt about you, since they’ve been friends and roomates (in yeosang’s case) for a long while now. they noticed the way he would look at you, and how he would light up every time he spot you. they also noticed the way he would always accommodate his schedules to fit yours for game night, no matter the time or place. if they were on tour? no problem, a small online card game becomes a good and entertaining alternative if you weren’t feeling like playing league of legends. they found the whole situation endearing, and, without yunho’s knowledge, they had a bet going on about when he would confess.

“did you just call him baby?” san asked, smirking. yunho immediately shot him a warning glance, the last thing he wanted was for you to stop using the nickname due to their teasing. “you know y/n, some words have heavy meanings” wooyoung added, mischief evident on his face. you rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out “are you jealous woo?” you asked, momentarily stopping your touches on yunho’s skin as he simultaneously sighed. “i’m just saying, i don’t call everyone baby” he said in response.

you remained quiet, staring at the tv as the characters still hit each other. yunho, on the other hand, started panicking. what were you thinking? how you were feeling about what wooyoung said? “i like the nickname” he admitted suddenly after a few minutes of silence, except for the aggressive taps on the controller’s buttons. your head turned to him, and he quickly interlocked his eyes with yours, sending you silent but comfortable words in support. somehow, you understood what he said with his eyes: “i don’t mind”. you smiled in return.

“oh i know you like the nickname” wooyoung said, before getting a kick on his back by yeosang’s leg. “don’t distract the player wooyoung! i don’t want to win due to distractions” he scolded, earning ‘oooh’s from san. “he sucks anyway!” wooyoung exclaimed, getting another two kicks, but this time from yunho and you. “ow” he complained, earning a laugh from the dimply man beside him.

after a while, yunho won the second round. “wooyoung distract him again, i take it back” yeosang said, laughing ad the third and last round started. “that’s unfair!” you complained in defense of your best friend. “you heard them” yunho said, still focused on the game.

“how cute of you you to defend your boyfriend” wooyoung teased. yunho felt his blood run cold and visibly tensed, shooting you a look to check your reaction. but instead of feeling awkward like yunho imagined you to be, you started kicking wooyoung with a pillow while exclaiming “you’re being soooo insufferable today!”.

———

yeosang won the fight, ending it at 2-1 and with a pouty yunho in consequence. san exclaimed it was his turn to play against yeosang, so yunho gave him his place as he said he was going to get more drinks from the kitchen. you looked at him disappearing behind the door and sighed. “go help him out y/n” san said. “we all know how he gets when he loses at something”. you nodded in response, standing up from your place and ignoring the way wooyoung said “we are so going to win this bet” as you exited the room.

you found yunho in the kitchen scrolling mindlessly through social media with a beer bottle on his other hand, casually sipping it. he was also leaning against the counter, and you could not deny it: it was definitely a pretty sight.

“are you okay yun?” you asked, taking the bottle from him and sipping it. he chose to ignore the thought of an indirect kiss. instead, he hummed in response, blocking his phone and setting it aside. you kind of stood there, feeling a bit awkward, not really knowing what to say. “i’m sorry if wooyoung’s comment made you uncomfortable” he said, looking out to the window, avoiding your eyes. you stared, confusion evident on your face. “it’s fine, it didn’t make me uncomfortable or anything”.

“one thing though-“ he started saying, bringing back his gaze to you as he stood up straight. “he was right about one thing”. you left the bottle on the kitchen counter next to him, asking what he meant by that. “words do have strong meanings sometimes”

“i want to know what that nickname means to you” he finished, holding your hand in his. you bit your lip, trying to find the words to translate your thoughts, but weren’t able to say anything in response. yunho pulled you closer to him, now leaning on the counter again as you stood in between his legs. “i don’t know, but you’re the only one i call baby” you whispered, looking down, suddenly feeling ashamed of your boldness. he chuckled in response, lifting up your chin to look at him. his face was close to yours, like never before. “i’m glad to hear that y/n, but i still want you to tell me the meaning”

“i don’t know yun” you said, unable to think with his face so close to yours. “you can’t find the words to describe it?” he asked, finger tracing patterns on your arm. you shook your head, not trusting your voice. “what about-“ he lifted his hand to your face “telling me through actions?”

you closed your eyes, unconsciously leaning in and pressing your lips against his. his other hand went to wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to his body as you kissed him softly, pouring all the love and devotion for your best friend that you didn’t know you hid deep inside you. you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, as you quickly became addicted to the way his lips felt against yours.

after a while, you broke the kiss, pecking him again when he chased your lips. “yun?” you asked. he hummed, before kissing you again. “what does the nickname mean to you?” you asked.

“hope”.

YEOSANG

“hoping they realize how you feel won’t change anything, you know? i think you should just tell them” san told yeosang as he took a sip from his drink. yeosang sat on the opposite side of the table, his own drink long forgotten due to his long debate with himself about whether to tell you his real feelings or not. san, being as perceptive as he is, noticed something was off since that party a week ago, so he invited yeosang to a small new cafe nearby.

yeosang couldn’t stop thinking about it. he didn’t even need to focus hard enough, he could still feel your lips on his, how your scent invaded all of his senses and how addictive the whole moment was. he was sure the kiss lasted longer than intended too, since he faintly remembers the drunk voices of his friends telling each other to “give them space” or “get a room”. it’s like one of those phrases hit you like a bucket of cold water, because you immediately separated yourself from him as an intense blush covered your cheeks. “i’m sorry” you whispered, avoiding his eyes. despite the loud background, he heard you perfectly and shook his head “it’s okay, really”. he noticed your eyes drifting back to his lips and then quickly to his eyes. what if he kissed you a- “still friends right?” you asked, interrupting his thoughts. he couldn’t find the words to answer, so he nodded slightly. stupid he thought to himself.

after that you kept your distance, even on the car ride back home. you successfully got everyone back to their respective homes safe and sound, so yeosang expected to talk about what happened now that everything quieted down. but he was wrong, again. “are you okay?” he asked, stopping at the red light. you hummed in response. he expected you to elaborate or say something, anything, but you didn’t. so he decided to press further: “are you sure?” your eyes drifted from the road to him, and patted his shoulder lightly “yeah yeo, i’m just tired. i forgot how exhausting everyone is while drunk, specially san and wooyoung” you said. he suspected you were lying, but chose to leave it there. maybe you just needed to process everything, like he did the first time you kissed.

after that, you disappeared. well, not actually, but you stopped replying as often as before. reason why he started feeling anxious, what if he fucked up? maybe he should have reassured you more, or maybe he should have just said no to that kiss, or maybe he-

“earth to yeosang” san said, interrupting his thoughts as he waved his hand in front of his friend’s face. yeosang blinked, nodding “sorry, sorry. what were you saying?”

“i was telling you about hongjoong organizing a small gathering for his birthday, it’s gonna be us and very few other people” san told him, before adding: “one of those is y/n, and they confirmed their assistance already”.

his friend leaned back, smirking at yeosang’s widened eyes. “if i were you i would start thinking of what to say to them”, san said, finishing his drink.

yeosang had a lot to think about indeed.

———

yeosang is a coward, that’s what he is. you stood right next to him, as you always are, yet he couldn’t manage to say the words he has been aching to say. so, he decided to take drastic measures: he decided to drink enough to get courage and drag you out to an empty room in order to confront you.

one shot.

two shots.

three shots.

he lost count after that, mind already going hazy. yeosang looked at you, it seemed like you were also in a similar state, since you giggled at anything and muttered incomprehensible words. his eyes drifted to your lips, plump as he remembered. do they still taste the same as in his memory?

suddenly, he felt a small push from behind him, making him almost spill his drink. “go, tell them” san said, appearing in his field of vision as he patted his shoulder blades. “tell what to who?” you interrupted, smiling widely. yep, clearly drunk as well. yeosang shook his head, before sipping his drink “nothing, don’t worry”.

stupid he thought, once again.

———

“who’s that guy?” yeosang asked hongjoong, pointing to a tall man that was talking to you on the opposite side of the room. you seemed interested in whatever he was saying, which made yeosang’s blood boil.

hongjoong smirked “that’s my brother’s best friend, he’s cool”. yeosang huffed in annoyance, muttering a low “he needs to ‘cool’ off and get away from y/n”. his captain heard it though, deciding to entertain himself for a bit. “he asked me to introduce them to him” hongjoong told yeosang, who quickly turned his head to him with wide eyes. “why?!” he exclaimed. “because he’s interested? yeosangie you’re usually good at reading the room”

his eyes turned back to you. wait, did you two get closer in distance? he watched as that man (yes, he refused to acknowledge him by name, despite hongjoong telling him twice) started playing with the ends of your hair. something he, yeosang, did.

he had enough.

he finished the remains of his drink and tipsily, but surely, walked towards you, who stared at him questioningly once you noticed him. you didn’t even have time to ask him what’s going on, before he grabbed your hand and led you to one of the empty rooms.

“yeosang! i was in the middle of a conversation back there” you exclaimed, confusion all over your face as he shut the door behind him. “why are you talking to him when you should be talking to me?” he asked, facing you.

“i’ve been right next to you the whole night” you said, crossing your arms against your chest. “not the way i want you to” yeosang answered, getting closer. “tell me, is he more interesting than me?”

you shook your head no “of course not”. “then is he more handsome than me?” he asked, stepping closer and making your cheeks flush. “would he kiss you the way i do?” he asked, leaning closer to your face.

you stared into his eyes, despite the obvious drunkness, they remained as gentle as ever. “tell me” he begged, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. he needed to hear it, even if it’s a lie. “n-no” you managed to say, uncrossing your arms as you set your hands on his chest. yeosang opened his eyes, staring at your lips as if he was silently asking for permission. like you could read his mind, you nodded slowly.

so he crashed his lips against yours for a third time, but now it was desperate, hungry. he needed to feel you, taste you, as he pretended you were finally his. he pressed you against the wall while his hands found their way to your lower back, making you slightly arch your back, pressing your front to his body. to his surprise, you kissed back with the same hunger, biting his lip and sliding your tongue on his mouth when he gasped in surprise. he could still feel your favorite drink in your mouth, and he wondered if you could taste his own. he felt intoxicated, addicted to the way your mouth moved against his.

“best friends don’t do this yeo” you managed to say suddenly, in between kisses and small gasps. yeosang hummed in response against your lips, before biting on your lower one “we haven’t been just friends since that first kiss, my love” he muttered, making you smile without separating yourself from him. “i like the sound of that” you said, breaking the kiss but pecking his lips sweetly. “what?” he asked, pecking you back. “you calling me your love”

he chuckled, before lifting his left hand and cupping your cheek. he stared deeply into your eyes with so much devotion, making you suddenly realize that it’s the same gaze as always. gentle, sweet, loving. a look that was only reserved for you, and you only. “that’s because you are, my love” he said, smiling.

you couldn’t help but kiss him again, and again, and again. you felt so loved and cherished. how could you have been so blind?

“y/n” he said suddenly, breaking the kiss and making you frown “don’t address me like that” you said, pouting, making yeosang let out a laugh. “already so demanding” he said “my love, we are both drunk right now, probably not enough to forget about this though. but i still want us to talk about it in the morning” he said, holding both of your hands and bringing them to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “i promise” you answered.

once morning had come, already sobered up and fully conscious of your actions, you called yeosang, ready to face your own feelings as you accepted that you are, also, in love with your best friend.

taglist: @yoongles2025

(to be added please let me know)

[2amriize]

✩࿐࿔ the new coworker - seunghan one shot

summary: everyone was kinda scared of you at work, until he showed up.

genre: sunshine x cold, fluff pairing: seunghan x reader note: i miss seunghan very much. today was the day he was supossed to comeback, so im really missing him today </3

(idea by: @jakahbot ♥)

For some people, office work can seem very boring, and for you, it was no different. Although the job was comfortable, every day felt like the same monotonous routine. You’d only been working there for a year, but you still hadn’t managed to start a conversation or make friends with any of your coworkers. This was typical for you; it was always difficult to start conversations with people, and most didn’t see you as friendly since you often had a serious expression. The truth was, you thought you didn’t really need to befriend anyone—you were just there to do your job, so having friends wasn’t necessary, right?

One day, during your coffee break, as you sat in the cafeteria sipping your coffee, you were surprised to see your supervisor enter with a young man by his side, showing him around the office. The young man had dark hair and a somewhat cat-like face. For a moment, your eyes met, and he gave you a smile that made his eyes disappear before he walked out of the cafeteria.

Why did he smile at you? You looked around to confirm that no one else was there for him to be smiling at, and indeed, you were the only one present. Not even two minutes had passed when a group of your coworkers came into the cafeteria, talking excitedly about the new guy in the office.

“Did you see the new guy? He’s adorable...”

“Right? His smile almost made me melt, and his voice…”

“I hope they put him near my desk so I can see him every day…”

They fell silent when they noticed you in the room, glancing at you for a few seconds before giving a quick greeting. That’s when you knew it was time to leave. For some reason, you felt like your presence made people uncomfortable. Whenever you saw your coworkers in the halls or cafeteria, they looked at you as if they were afraid. It was something you’d never really understood. Without saying a word, you left the cafeteria and returned to your desk.

You weren’t expecting to see the new guy at the desk opposite yours, but as soon as he saw you arrive, he quickly stood up, bowing to greet you.

“Hi, I’m Seunghan. I’ll be working here from now on. I hope we get along well,” he said, looking at you with the same smile he’d given you earlier.

You looked at him for a few seconds, then nodded several times before turning your gaze back to your computer screen. Maybe you were just bad at socializing since you didn’t know how to respond to him; you just hoped he wouldn’t interfere with your work too much.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Days passed, and at first, everything went quite smoothly. There was no noticeable change; you just had a new coworker across from you (who would smile every time you made eye contact). The only thing that annoyed you was hearing some groups of coworkers come over to your section to ask if Seunghan needed help or just to offer him a snack or drink. At first, it didn’t bother you too much, but the interruptions gradually started to overwhelm you, as they kept you from working.

During one of these visits, you decided to take a break, getting up from your desk with a sigh and leaving. The office fell silent as they heard you sigh, watching you as you exited the room. But once the door closed behind you, everyone resumed their conversations.

Stepping outside, you sat on one of the benches across from the building, planning to wait until people left your coworker’s desk. After a few minutes, while looking at your phone, a coffee cup appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw that it was Seunghan offering it. You stared at him for a moment, confused, before taking the cup. He then sat down beside you, looking at you.

“Y/n, right? Sorry for being such a bother in the office…” he started, looking down at his coffee. “It seems like a lot of people have taken a liking to me,” he added, flashing you his usual smile.

“It’s alright; I guess it’s not really your fault,” you murmured, taking a sip of the coffee.

“Oh? This is the first time I’ve heard you talk,” Seunghan said with a small laugh, looking at you in mild surprise. “You know, I’ve heard people say not to approach you or that they’re afraid of you…”

“Yes, I’ve heard that too.”

“But I don’t think that’s true, so maybe I’ll be a bit of a bother to you.”

You looked at him, a bit confused, unsure how to respond. What did he mean? The fact that he was even talking to you now felt strange. It was the first time someone at work had a conversation with you about something unrelated to reports or work issues. Meanwhile, Seunghan held your gaze. After a few seconds, you just stood up without really knowing what to say and headed back inside.

“See you, Y/n!” he called after you.

To be honest, you thought he was just being polite that one time and that it would end with that conversation. You didn’t expect that Seunghan would actually try to become closer to you. He started leaving snacks on your desk, which you found after returning from breaks. Every time you looked over at his desk, you’d find him smiling at you, sometimes even winking before returning to his work. Initially, you didn’t know how to react, and you’d simply put the snack in your bag to eat later.

But that wasn’t all. During the first few weeks of working together, he’d often come to you to ask about things he didn’t yet understand, which you’d try to explain as briefly and concisely as possible. He then started sitting beside you in the cafeteria during breaks, trying to spark a conversation or simply talking about himself, sharing things like what he did over the weekend or the dramas he was watching.

At first, you would simply listen, occasionally meeting his gaze. You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed his company. You’d always had your coffee alone in that room, so it felt a bit strange at first to be sharing it with someone else. But for some reason, you were getting used to having Seunghan by your side. In fact, you were starting to look forward to his company. You couldn’t forget the expression on his face the first time he saw you smile or when he made you laugh. His eyes were bright, and he couldn’t help but smile as he looked at you.

“Oh? You have a really pretty smile, Y/n,” he said the first time he saw you smile.

Of course, as expected, this began to spark rumors throughout the office, causing the coworkers who’d already looked at you with unease or even fear to now glare at you with irritation. You didn’t mind; they’d always looked at you that way. What did bother you, though, was being judged by people who didn’t know you, who didn’t really know who you were.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Several months had passed since Seunghan had started working with you. The days that had once felt monotonous and hard to get through were now pleasant, thanks to him. But that day, nothing was going as you’d hoped. One of your supervisors had scolded you for sending out documents before they’d been reviewed. You couldn’t help feeling bad, and unconsciously, you avoided Seunghan all day. You exchanged glances a few times from your desk, but you were so lost in thought about what had happened that you quickly looked away. Seunghan obviously noticed you weren’t quite yourself, but each time he tried to ask what was wrong, you’d go somewhere else, almost as if you were avoiding him.

That day, you decided to stay late to correct your mistake. It might have seemed trivial to others or just a small error, but to you, it felt huge. Before you knew it, the office was completely empty, with only your desk light still on. You checked the time: 9:30. You let out a sigh as you gathered your things and walked out.

“Y/n,” a voice called as you exited the building, and turning around, you saw Seunghan.

“Seunghan? Why are you here this late?”

“I brought you dinner,” he said, showing you the bags he held in one hand.

“Oh, that wasn’t necessary…”

“Is something wrong, Y/n? I know I’m usually the one talking, sharing stuff about my life, but sometimes I also want to know what you’re thinking…”

You looked at him in silence. No one had ever shown much interest in you, or at least, not in how you were feeling or what was happening with you. You didn’t know why Seunghan was behaving this way toward you; maybe he was just a genuinely kind person, but you were grateful for it.

“Maybe…maybe we could go to my place for dinner? It’s too cold out here…” you said without thinking, and Seunghan nodded eagerly.

It was the first time you’d invited anyone to your home, but it was too cold outside, and it wasn’t the best place to talk. Once settled in, Seunghan and you sat at the table, and after a few seconds, you told him what had happened that day. Seunghan listened attentively, understanding why you’d been acting that way.

But the conversation didn’t end there; maybe it was because you were in your home, which felt like a safe place, or maybe it was because Seunghan inspired so much trust in you, but you started sharing things about yourself, like your interests and why you’d started working there.

Talking to Seunghan helped you stop dwelling on that morning’s incident at work, and before you knew it, it was nearly 2 a.m.

“I don’t understand why everyone says negative things about you…” Seunghan murmured, making you shrug.

“Well, I can understand why everyone speaks so well of you,”

Your comment made both of you laugh softly, holding his gaze for a few moments. If someone asked you how you felt in that moment, you wouldn’t know how to describe it exactly, but it was as if you felt at peace. It had been a long time since you’d felt so comfortable with someone. After a minute of looking at each other in silence, you nodded a few times, averting your gaze.

“Thank you for reaching out and talking to me, Seunghan. I really appreciate it.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Y/n; you know I did it because you caught my attention,” he murmured with his familiar smile.

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori

@enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123

@sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies

[keepyourword]

best friend!suguru hates your boyfriend. ask suguru and he’ll say that he finds your boyfriend inconsiderate and straight up disrespectful. his point is only further proven when you call him late one night. 

best friend!suguru, who’s initial reaction is to be irritated with you for calling him this late. “do you know what time it is? what do you want?” but as your best friend, he’s obligated to hear you out.

best friend!suguru, who short fuses when you reveal that you agreed to go on a date with your ex-boyfriend. you describe an optimistic evening of romantic exchanges and wardrobe planning to eventually find out that you were stood up. “can you come get me?” you sob into your phone. “i just wanna go home.”

best friend!suguru, who doesn’t hesitate to say, ‘i told you so.’ he stays on the phone with you while driving just to lecture you. “i can’t believe you fucking texted him in the first place,” his voice peaks with disappointment. suguru didn’t need to raise his voice to give away his frustration with you, the hiss in his tone said it all.

best friend!suguru arrives sooner than you expect and the car is warmed up just for you.  as soon as your seatbelt clicks, he’s reaching for a blanket that sits in the back seat. relief blows over him seeing you safe and sound, but that doesn’t show on his face. “suguru, i’m fine,” you protest the blanket, but he doesn’t let you. he shoves the blanket in your lap, giving you a stern look before focusing back on the main road.

“you’re not,” he says sharply. “this is not the first time he treats you like shit. why are you okay with that?” he squeezes his fist against the steering wheel, his other hand massaging the temples of his forehead. 

you don’t respond.

best friend!suguru, who notices, but doesn’t acknowledge your pouty demeanor. he glances at you at one of the red lights and you respond by crossing your arms and pursing your bottom lip. in hindsight, he does feel bad for you. getting all dolled up just to be disappointed. but it's also so goddamn frusterating watching you get yourself into these situations.

best friend!suguru, who walks you to your apartment. after dropping your coat and bag at the entrance and slipping your shoes off, you storm off to the restroom. locking the door behind him, suguru almost doesn’t catch you turning the corner. he’s able to follow you and attempts to grab your wrist, but misses. “why are you acting like that? can you just stop and talk to me.” he catches up to you at the restroom and before you can close the door, his hand stops it and the both of you stare at each other. “are you really crying over that asshole?”

“go home,” you tell him, but he pushes the door further open.

best friend!suguru, who doesn’t know when to stop. “why do you want him?” he asks harshly, glaring down at you. when you don’t respond, it only irritates him more. “really, you don’t have an answer for me?” he shakes his head and scoffs, “you’re acting so fucking dumb.”

best friend!suguru, who realizes he might’ve been too harsh with you when you begin weeping into your hands. he stares at your figure sitting on the bathroom floor, knees pulled to your chest. he isn’t being a supportive friend to you. he kneels in front of you, reaching for your hands to pull them away from your face.

“you’re being so mean,” your breath hitches in your throat.

“i’m just realizing,” he sighs, “i'm sorry.” his fingers slip behind your neck and under your hair to push it all back. delicate fingers also push the smaller strands of hair behind your ears.

“are you mad at me?” you choke asking that question. truth was that he was mad at you for continuously returning to your ex-boyfriend, and slightly jealous, but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

“not at you, sweet girl.”

best friend!suguru, who is suddenly gentler with you because of the guilt. he whispers apologies into your ear and says he’ll make it up to you with take-out and a movie, but only after you forgive him.

best friend!suguru is so sweet to help you with your bed-time routine, but realizes that friends aren't typically this close. they especially don't help each other get changed, the thought occurring to him while pulling your pajama shorts over your hips. his thumbs linger under the material for longer than necessary and he gulps unnervingly at your close proximity. it doesn’t help that you look at him with imploring eyes just begging to be taken care of.

best friend!suguru, who lets you cuddle with him while watching a movie, but you just can't lay still. he realizes that watching a rom-com might not have been the best idea as he watches your body and mind become restless. not even your favorite film was serving enough of a distraction. “please, just tell me how to make you feel better.”

best friend!suguru thinks letting you kiss him is a better distraction than a movie. you hook your leg over to sit on his hips, forcing his back flat against the couch cushions. you kiss him, eagerly pushing your tongue passed his lips. he knows it’s wrong letting you cope this way, but he just wants you to feel good after everything that happened.

best friend!suguru doesn’t stop you when things move too fast. you splay your hands against his chest and rub your clothed sex against his. though suguru doesn’t like the idea of being your rebound, he has to admit that lust looks so fucking good on you. so mesmerized by the way you sway your hips, he doesn’t realize the food he ordered had arrived out front. but before you can completely indulge yourself, large palms stop the friction. “break up with him,” he demands, “i’ll let you fuck me, just promise me you’ll do it.”

best friend!suguru thinks you look so pretty when you sit on his cock. you take a moment to adjust to suguru’s length because he’s so much thicker than your ex. and when suguru notices you tremble from the pleasure, he embraces you with caressing hands. you desperately whine into his hair and he soothes you, “fuck, hon’, i know, i know. you’ll feel so much better when you start fucking on my cock, i promise.” he kisses your shoulder gently.

you’re convinced that best friend!suguru’s dick can cure heart ache because not an ounce of you misses your ex. you’re pretty sure you’re drunk on your best friend’s dick. you fuck roughly on his length, pussy clenching every time the tip of his cock hits just right. you swear your cervix will remember the outline of his cock for the next few days.

best friend!suguru, who wants to be as supportive as he can. so, when you’re about to come, he holds your hand and tells you how good you’re doing. “god, you take cock so good,” he groans. “you’re gonna come soon, aren’t you?” he grabs your face to make you look at him. “wanna see your pretty face when you cream on my cock.”

you delicately slide your fingers into suguru’s dark strands and watch as his gaze flickers from your parted lips to your dazed eyes. being on the verge of an orgasm has you acting like a person possessed entirely by their desire. so, when he unexpectedly feels you tug at the back of his head, you swear his pupils form little hearts. if you’ve learned anything from having sex with this man, it’s that best friend!suguru loves getting his hair pulled.

and after your orgasm, best friend!suguru uses all his might to pull out of you. his hands swiftly pick your hips up and off of him just on-time before he comes undone, thick load oozing from his tip. “fuck,” he pants, “m’sorry, i almost came n’side you.”

that concern doesn’t even slip your mind. instead, you connect your lips with his, desire igniting once more in your tummy. his mind still preoccupied with how well you took him, suguru is taken aback when you ask him to go again.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Touch of Sweetness 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Loki Laufeyson

Sister series to mob!Thor

Summary: you make a new friend, but that’s not all. (short reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You wait at the door. You’re wearing winter clothes but you don’t mind. The stuff in your closet are the only untouched by berry juice. 

As you watch through the window, Jada scoffs and slurps loudly behind you. 

“What are you doing?” She asks. 

You know what she wants. She wants a reaction. Well, you might be sweating in this turtleneck but it’s not because of her. 

“Waiting.” 

“For?” She snips. 

“My ride.” 

“You have a car.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m saving my gas,” you argue. “Where’s Estelle?” 

“She went home,” she chimes in a taunting tone. Oh yes, she went home after they destroyed your wardrobe. “Those berries were good. Fresh.” 

You sigh and shake your head. A sleek dark green car rolls slowly along the curb and stops, idling as a dark figure leans over in the driver seat. That must be them. 

“Gotta go,” you say as you hook your quilted bag over your shoulder. 

“You are such a spoil sport,” she pouts. You open the door but she catches it before you can close it. She huffs as she sees the car, “oh, I see. Another day of fun with criminals.” 

You slow as a figure emerges from the other side of the car. Loki squints over the roof with obvious disappointment. You give a sheepish wave as you approach. You don’t think he knew to expect you, just as much as you don’t expect him. 

“You’re such a loser,” Jada calls after you. “And you’re gonna get hurt.” 

You ignore her as Loki scowls. He doesn’t say a word as he drops back down into the driver’s seat. You open the passengers’ door, “may I?” 

“Hm, haven’t much of a choice in the matter,” he drones as his fingers tap on the ridge steering wheel. 

“Sorry, I... I could’ve driven but Thor--” 

“Yes, he does demand all things happen upon his whim,” he slithers. “Do use your seat belt and close the door. I should hate to think of his whining should you get hurt upon my watch.” 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you shut the door and fumble to do up your belt. He pulls out just as you snap it into place. 

“That was a rather pleasant woman,” he remarks as he drives. “What was it she called you?” 

“Ha, that’s just my sister,” you say. “You know, sister things.” 

“I do have one and she’s just as endearing,” he turns lazily with his thumb. 

“She just woke up. She’s grouchy,” you explain and look around the interior of the car, trying to distract yourself from the tension. You can feel how much he doesn’t want to be there. “This is nice.” 

You run your hand over the wood finish of the dashboard. 

“Authentic. Vintage,” he assures you. 

“Oh,” you retract your hand, “I wouldn’t want to... leave fingerprints. Sorry.” 

He grumbles but says nothing. You suppose that’s better than rebuke. You sit back and watch the streets through the window. The silence is strangling. 

You subtly glance over at him. He’s an intimidating figure. Tall, lithe, unreadable like a feline. You want to apologise again, just for the fact he’s been sent on this errand. 

“What?” He says, startling you. 

“What? Uh, what what?” You murmur and turn your head straight. 

“Why are you staring at me?” He asks. 

“I’m not, I just... looking through the windows,” you lie. 

He huffs and rests his hand on the shifter lazily. You turn your face away, stewing in your embarrassment. 

“The forecast is rather positive. You will be overheated,” he girds. 

You look down at the turtleneck with the ruffled collar and sleeves. He’s right. Another shock of heat blazes in your cheek. 

“I thought it was cute,” you shrug. 

He hums again. He clucks his tongue and speeds up. He peers over at you. 

“You’re not a very convincing liar.” 

“I’m not--” 

“I wonder,” he interrupts, “why you would lie about a shirt.” 

“I’m not lying, it is cute.” 

“It’s... not unsightly,” he allows. “But I’m certain you have something more weather appropriate.” 

“Maybe I do but why do you care?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. 

“Suppose I don’t,” he utters. “I am rather bored by this entire chore and thus I try to distract myself.” 

“Mm, well, I am sorry you have to do this,” you say. 

“Isn’t your fault, isn’t your apology to make,” he rebuffs. 

You frown. There's nothing you can say to him that’s right. You’re used to that and yet he isn’t so vicious as Jada or her friends. He is just blunt. A strangely respectable sort of honest. 

Loki drives up to a grand house. It’s like a fantasy or fairytale. A modern castle. You’ve never been anywhere so fancy. You gape up through the windshield as he rolls through the gates and along the stone drive. Wow. 

“The flies will get in,” he reproaches. 

You snap your mouth shut and sit back. You sniff and twiddle your fingers impatiently. He draws up next to another luxurious vehicle and you undo your belt. You’re out before him. He’s probably just as eager to part ways. 

“Come,” he beckons you as he gets out. 

You obediently follow him. He takes you up the front steps and you stop to admire the stone lion statue. He opens the door and tuts to get you to carry on. 

You enter and let out a ‘woah’ as you take in the spacious entryway. He is unaffected by it all. There’s hardly anything that does impact him deeply. 

“This way,” he utters. 

He takes you through a door and along a hallway. He points you through an open archway and you step inside. It’s a large kitchen that matches the sheer exuberance of the rest of the place. The basket of berries is on the counter as Queenie flutters through the pages of a book. 

“Uh, hi,” you step through as Loki lingers in the hall. “I’m here.” 

“Oh, hello,” she looks up with a smile, “I was just looking for a recipe—where are your berries?” 

You make a face. “You know, I forgot them.” 

She tilts her head in disappointment, “that’s okay. More than enough here.” 

“Sorry, I... rushed out. Must’ve left them right there in the fridge.” Your voice piques but she just goes back to turning pages. 

You near her and turn to face the counter. As you do, your eyes flick back to the door. Loki watches you through it, eyes narrowed, cheeks pinched with skepticism. He bows his chin. 

“I will let my brother know all is in order,” he turns on his heel and struts off. 

“What do you think?” Queenie asks, unbothered by the man’s departure, “tarts or trifle?” 

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1900 - with you i'm free

chapter summary: Logan meets you again in a small town in Pennsylvania. Only this time, you are married to another man, but your marriage is far from perfect.

word count: 11.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this is a bit darker than the other chapters, past and future, so this'll probably be a 'one off'. please read the tags! the domestic violence isn't described too heavily, but there are still some descriptions and scenes involving it. you've been warned!

warnings/tags: angst, mentions of brushing hair, outdated mindsets on women, domestic violence, bruises, cheating, blood, character death

series masterlist - chapter 2 → chapter 4

Logan found himself in a small town in Pennsylvania 20 years later. Victor was doing who knows what, he wasn’t sure if he even cared, so he was alone, once again.

Coal mining was the primary job in this town, so he found himself doing just that. After work, the guys would go to a nearby bar and get drunk, go back home, and repeat it all over again.

This was his second week here, and the guys finally learned that he only came along to do one thing- drink.

You walked into the dimly lit bar, the smell of tobacco and cheap liquor hanging heavy in the air. The men, mostly miners from the town, were crowded around tables, drinking and laughing loudly after a long day of work. The sound of clinking glasses and rough voices filled the room, but your eyes were drawn to the man sitting at the bar, quiet and distant.

He didn’t look like the others—he wasn’t laughing, wasn’t part of the group. He just sat there, nursing a glass of whiskey, his dark eyes focused on the amber liquid as if it held answers to questions he wasn’t ready to ask. Something about him felt familiar, though you couldn’t place why.

You hadn’t intended to come inside. George was already drunk somewhere in the back, and you knew what that would mean when he got home. But something pulled you toward the bar, toward him. You made your way over, hesitating for just a moment before slipping onto the stool beside him.

“You new in town?” you asked, your voice soft but cutting through the noise around you.

The man didn’t look at you right away, but his hand tightened slightly around the glass. His jaw clenched, as if the sound of your voice had struck something deep inside him. Slowly, he turned his head, and when his eyes met yours, the world seemed to tilt for a moment.

It was like a punch to the gut, a shock that ran through both of you, though you couldn’t understand why. You had never met him before, but his eyes... those eyes. Dark, haunted, and yet filled with something familiar, something you couldn’t explain.

Logan stared at you, his mind racing. It couldn’t be. But it was. You were here, sitting right next to him, alive. Different, yet the same. His chest tightened, the memories flooding back—your face, your smile, your laugh. The way you had slipped away from him, twice now.

He hadn’t expected to see you again. Not after the last time. But here you were, as real as the glass in his hand.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher than he intended. “Just passing through.”

You tilted your head slightly, curious about the stranger beside you. “Passing through? Not many people come here unless they’re looking to stay a while.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to you again, lingering this time. It was you, all right. Same voice, same damn spark. He could feel his heart pounding, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he should just get up and walk away. He didn’t know if he could handle this—losing you again.

“I’m not lookin’ to stay,” he said, taking a long sip of his drink, hoping it would calm the storm inside him.

You smiled faintly, noticing how closed-off he seemed. “Seems like you’re fitting in already, though,” you joked, nodding toward the men in the back. “That’s my husband back there, George. One of the miners.”

Logan’s jaw tightened at the word ‘husband,’ though he didn’t know why it hit him so hard. Of course, you’d have a life. It was always like this. But that didn’t make it any easier.

“Is that right?” he replied, not really asking. He glanced toward the group of men, catching sight of George, loud and drunk, waving his glass around like he owned the place. A man like that didn’t deserve you. But Logan stayed silent.

“Yeah,” you said softly, looking down at your hands. “He’s… something.”

There was a heaviness in your voice, something that told Logan more than your words ever could. He recognized that tone—the one you used when you were trying to hide the truth, trying to make things seem better than they were.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Logan just stared at his drink, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now. You were married. You had a life. He didn’t belong here. But he couldn’t just walk away. Not again.

“Y/N.” The sound of your name from his lips was barely a whisper, but it felt like it echoed through the bar. Your head snapped up, eyes wide.

“How… how do you know my name?” you asked, frowning in confusion. He hadn’t asked, and you hadn’t introduced yourself.

Logan cursed inwardly, realizing his slip. He hadn’t meant to say it, but your name had come so naturally, like it always did. “I, uh… heard someone call you that when I came in,” he lied, quickly looking away. “Didn’t mean to surprise you.”

You blinked, but before you could question him further, George’s booming voice interrupted.

“Y/N!” he shouted, stumbling toward you. “What’re you doin’ at the bar? Get over here!”

You flinched slightly, your body tensing at the sound of his voice. Logan noticed immediately, his eyes darkening as he glanced between you and the drunk man. He didn’t like the way George looked at you, the way he called for you like he owned you.

“I should go,” you muttered, standing up quickly, the warmth between you and Logan fading as you stepped away. “It was nice meeting you…?”

“Logan,” he said, his voice low. “Name’s Logan.”

You smiled faintly again, nodding. “Logan. Well, take care.”

He watched you walk away, his chest tight with a mix of emotions he couldn’t put into words. This wasn’t fair. Not to him, not to you. But life had never been fair, had it?

As George draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into the group with a roughness that made Logan’s blood boil, he clenched his fists under the bar. He wanted to stand up, walk over there, and tear that man’s arm off. But he stayed where he was, the ring in his pocket feeling heavier than ever. The ring he never got to give you.

You were gone again, and Logan was left with the bitter taste of whiskey and the familiar ache of loss.

---

George never really allowed you to do much, he wanted you to be the ‘perfect wife’ and the ‘perfect mother’, but he always said that last part to you with such hatred.

Some nights, while you silently cried yourself to sleep, you wondered if you were broken, and that maybe you deserved it. Not ever getting pregnant, having an abusive husband- not that it was rare, most of the guys’ wives went through the same things too.

One day, you were out doing errands, getting some things to make George his favorite dinner in hopes you wouldn’t end up with another bruise on your wrist like yesterday, when you saw him. Logan, from a few nights ago.

He was smoking a cigar against a brick building; he should be at work with the rest of the men.

You paused, your breath catching for a moment as you saw him. Logan. He looked out of place, leaning against the wall like he didn’t belong in this time or this town. His eyes, sharp even from a distance, locked onto yours the second you stepped out of the store. It was like he knew you’d be there, as if he had been waiting.

You hesitated, then made your way toward him, the worn handle of the basket digging into your palm as you gripped it tightly.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” you asked softly, your voice carrying just enough over the sound of the bustling street.

Logan took a long drag from the cigar, his eyes narrowing slightly, and shrugged. “Took a break. Figured I needed some air.”

You shifted awkwardly, glancing around before lowering your voice. “If George finds out you’re not working…”

He scoffed, the sound rough, almost amused. “George ain’t my boss.”

His words hung in the air, and you knew he was right. George might run things at home, but out here, Logan didn’t answer to anyone. You, on the other hand… your life was different.

Logan’s eyes flicked down to your wrist, where the bruise from yesterday’s outburst was still visible, even though you’d tried to hide it with long sleeves. His expression darkened instantly, the casual air gone in an instant.

“He do that?” His voice was low, almost a growl.

You swallowed, tugging the sleeve down further. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “I just—George gets frustrated sometimes.”

Logan pushed off the wall, stepping closer, the smell of smoke and leather surrounding you. He was close now, too close, and you felt your heart quicken—not in fear, but in something else entirely.

“Frustrated?” Logan repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. “That what you call it?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t, really. What were you supposed to say? That it was normal? That the other wives had it worse? The words died in your throat, and instead, you turned your head, focusing on the basket in your hand. “I should get going.”

But Logan didn’t move, didn’t let you slip away that easily. “You don’t have to put up with that, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice softer now. His hand brushed your arm, barely a touch, but you felt it. Felt it everywhere.

Your breath hitched, and you looked up at him, finding those dark, intense eyes watching you closely. “I… I should get home,” you said again, but the words lacked conviction this time.

Logan didn’t argue, but the look on his face told you that he wasn’t letting this go. “I’ll walk with you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

You didn’t protest as he fell into step beside you. The two of you walked in silence for a while, your steps in sync, even though neither of you said a word. It was like that night in the bar—the unspoken connection, the weight of something you couldn’t quite name hanging between you. But this time, there was no crowd, no drunken laughter. Just you and him, and the quiet tension that seemed to grow with every step.

When you reached the edge of your street, you stopped. “You don’t have to walk me the whole way,” you murmured, glancing toward your house, where George’s silhouette was already moving around inside.

Logan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked at you, his gaze lingering on the bruise again before his eyes met yours. “You ever need someone to talk to,” he said quietly, “you know where to find me.”

Your heart clenched at the offer, at the way he said it like he meant it. You nodded, unsure of what else to do, and turned to leave.

But as you stepped away, his hand brushed yours again, just for a second. It was fleeting, but it sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder that there was something here—something neither of you fully understood but couldn’t deny.

You walked inside, feeling his presence behind you even after the door closed, knowing that things had just shifted, that something had begun. And it scared you. Not because of George, not because of what it might mean if you were caught—but because of how much you wanted it. How much you wanted him.

---

Over the next few days, Logan stayed close. You saw him more often—sometimes at the store, sometimes on the street—but always watching, always aware. He didn’t push, didn’t say much. But his presence was a constant, a quiet offer of protection that you hadn’t asked for but found yourself relying on.

It was late one evening when it finally happened. George had been out drinking again, and when he came home, it was worse than usual. You flinched as his hand caught your wrist, yanking you toward him as he slurred something about dinner not being ready on time.

You would’ve left the house if you could, but you couldn’t. Not when George was glaring at you like that, his drunken eyes wild with the sort of rage that had become all too familiar. You knew exactly what was going to happen tonight. It wasn’t new—this quiet dread that wrapped itself around your throat, choking off your breath. Running had never worked before, and by now, you had learned there was no use in trying.

George's grip on your wrist tightened painfully as he muttered something under his breath. The way he yanked you close made your heart race, not out of fear, but from the exhaustion of enduring it. He wasn’t done with his tirade—his words slurred together, complaining about dinner, the house, everything. It didn’t matter. Nothing you did ever seemed to be enough.

As his fist balled around the fabric of your dress, you stared blankly at the floor, your mind drifting elsewhere, anywhere but here. To the street outside, to the market, to Logan. The quiet man who’d appeared in your life without explanation. You didn’t know why, but when you thought of him, you felt something different—something dangerous but soothing all the same. A flicker of rebellion, of hope, that you hadn’t felt in so long.

George shoved you toward the kitchen table, grumbling about the cold food, about you being lazy, about anything he could think of. You stumbled, catching yourself on the edge of the table, but didn’t say a word. You never did, not when it got like this.

But Logan… he had noticed. He had noticed the bruises, the way you flinched when someone raised their voice, the way you avoided eye contact. He wasn’t like the other men in town. He wasn’t one to turn a blind eye. You remembered his intense gaze lingering on your wrist, the bruise that you couldn’t quite hide. You remembered the way he had spoken to you softly, almost like he cared.

That thought gave you strength now, as George barked another order, telling you to clean up the dishes. Your body moved mechanically, but your mind stayed somewhere else. You could almost feel Logan’s hand brushing against yours again, the briefest touch when he’d walked you home the other night. It had been so subtle, but it had sent a jolt through you—a reminder that there were still things you could feel, still things you could want.

The night dragged on, just as it always did, but when George finally passed out in his chair, snoring heavily, you slipped outside. The cool night air hit your skin, and for a moment, you just stood there, breathing it in. You weren’t going far. Just a few minutes of peace. Just enough to remind yourself that you were still alive.

You walked slowly down the empty street, your eyes scanning the shadows. You didn’t mean to, but your feet led you toward the alley where Logan had been smoking that day. It was a habit now, searching for him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

And then, there he was. Leaning against the same wall, his broad figure half-hidden by the dim light of the streetlamp. His cigar glowed faintly in the dark, and as soon as he saw you, he straightened, eyes narrowing with concern.

“Y/N,” Logan said softly, stepping toward you. His voice was rough but gentle in the stillness of the night. “What’re you doin’ out here?”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Your throat felt tight, and your chest ached with all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t. Instead, you just walked closer, until you were standing right in front of him, your head tipped back slightly to meet his gaze.

Logan’s eyes flickered over your face, taking in every detail—the bruise that had started to fade but was still visible on your wrist, the exhaustion that weighed down your every movement. He didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t need to. He knew.

Without a word, Logan reached out, his hand cupping the back of your neck in a way that was more comforting than anything you’d felt in years. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him. Just for a moment.

“Y/N, you don’t have to stay there,” he murmured, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Not with him.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the truth of his words cutting deeper than anything else. You didn’t want to stay, you didn’t. But leaving wasn’t as easy as it sounded. George was… dangerous. You didn’t know what he would do if you tried to leave him. And besides, where would you even go? You had nothing. No money, no family. Just an empty house that felt more like a prison with every passing day.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your own admission.

Logan’s grip tightened slightly, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. He wanted to help, wanted to tear you away from that life, but he was fighting something inside himself too.

“You always got me,” Logan said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “Always.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and full of meaning. You didn’t know what to say. The part of you that was practical screamed that you couldn’t rely on him, that you shouldn’t get attached. But the other part, the part that had been buried deep beneath years of heartache, wanted to believe him. Wanted to fall into him, to take whatever comfort he could offer.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached up, your hand trembling slightly as you rested it on his chest. You felt his heart beating under your palm, steady and strong. Logan’s breath hitched at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. He never did.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet street. “I don’t know what to do.”

He let out a slow breath, his forehead resting against yours now, his warm breath mingling with yours. His free hand came up, his thumb brushing your cheek softly, tracing the path of an unshed tear.

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” he said gently, his lips so close to yours that it took everything in you not to close the distance. “But whatever you decide… I’m not lettin’ you go through this alone. Not again.”

Your heart ached at his words—his promise. The unspoken connection between you felt stronger than ever, and before you knew it, you were closing that distance, your lips brushing against his in a hesitant, tender kiss.

Logan froze for half a second, but then his arms were around you, pulling you closer as if he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than he could remember. His lips were rough, but his kiss was gentle, full of restraint. You could feel the years of longing behind it, the pain of lifetimes lived and lost, but also the desire—the need that neither of you could ignore any longer.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and trembling, Logan’s eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice ragged, his forehead still resting against yours. “This ain’t right. You’re… you’re married.”

“I know,” you said, your voice barely more than a breath. “But I… I don’t care anymore.”

Logan’s grip on you tightened for a moment, like he was trying to fight it, but then he cursed softly under his breath and kissed you again, this time with more desperation, more need. His hands tangled in your hair, his lips claiming yours in a way that made it clear this wasn’t something either of you could stop now.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to.

---

The next few days blurred together, a dangerous mix of stolen moments and whispered promises. Logan was always there, watching over you, his touch lingering on your skin long after you parted. You knew it was wrong, knew that it would only lead to more heartache, but you couldn’t stop. He had become your anchor, your escape from a life you couldn’t bear anymore.

It wasn’t long before you were meeting him after dark, slipping out of the house when George was too drunk to notice. The kisses became longer, the touches more urgent.

Soon, it wasn’t just nights you were seeing him. It was after George left for work, during Logan’s lunch breaks, or anytime he could sneak away from the mine. You’d meet in the same alley, or sometimes he’d find you waiting in a small park just outside town. The secrecy of it all—the sneaking around, the stolen moments—it was reckless, but neither of you could stop.

Logan wasn’t the kind of man who talked much, but the way he looked at you, the way he held you—like you were the only thing keeping him grounded—it said enough. His hands were always gentle, so different from George’s, even though you could feel the strength behind them. That raw, unyielding strength that was so uniquely his.

One afternoon, Logan met you in the small clearing just past the main street. It was a rare moment when George was working late, giving you a little more time than usual. You leaned against the large oak tree, your back pressed into the rough bark, and waited. It wasn’t long before Logan’s figure appeared in the distance, his broad shoulders tense, eyes scanning the area out of habit.

As soon as he spotted you, his shoulders seemed to relax, and he made his way over, his footsteps heavy but quiet in the dirt. When he got close enough, you smiled softly, your fingers fiddling with the fabric of your dress, a nervous habit you’d picked up over the last few weeks.

“Thought I’d lost you for a minute there,” you teased, keeping your voice light, though there was a real fear under the surface. Every time you saw him, there was a tiny part of you that worried it might be the last.

Logan gave a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Not that easy to lose me, Y/N.”

You looked up at him, trying to read what was going on in his head. He seemed… tense, more so than usual. You could see it in the tightness of his jaw, the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice softening as you stepped closer, close enough to touch him, but not quite daring to yet.

Logan’s gaze flickered down to you, and for a moment, you saw something in his eyes—something old, something heavy. But he shook his head, as if brushing it off, and reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though you could tell he wasn’t. He was never fine.

You reached out, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart under your palm. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Logan.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the silence stretching between you, before he finally spoke. “It’s just… this,” he said, his voice low, almost pained. “I don’t want you gettin’ hurt.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I’m already hurt,” you whispered, and for the first time, you felt the full weight of those words. The bruises, the fear, the nights spent lying awake, wondering if George would snap—it had become your normal, and you hated it.

Logan’s expression didn’t change much, but his jaw clenched, a flicker of something dark flashing behind his eyes. He stood still, his hands loose at his sides, and for a second you thought maybe you’d gone too far—that maybe admitting this would scare him away, make him walk off into the night and leave you standing there alone.

But he didn’t. He never did.

Logan exhaled slowly through his nose, the sound quiet but loaded with restrained anger, like a simmering fire just barely held in check. His hand—rough and warm—reached out to settle on your arm, fingers curling gently around your elbow. It was a simple touch, but it grounded you in a way that nothing else did.

“I’ll handle it,” Logan said, voice low, rough. His words were more than a statement—they were a promise, weighted with meaning you couldn’t quite untangle.

Your heart skipped at the way he said it, quiet but firm, like the solution was already decided, and there was no point in questioning it.

“You can’t,” you whispered, not because you didn’t believe him, but because you knew how dangerous George could be. And if Logan went to him—if George found out about the two of you…

Logan’s thumb brushed once along your forearm, slow and deliberate. “I’ve handled worse,” he muttered, gaze never leaving yours. There was a sharpness in his eyes now, something fierce. You didn’t know what he’d been through in his life—just that it was far more than you could imagine.

A part of you wanted to tell him not to get involved, but the other part—the part of you that had been breaking under George’s hand for years—wanted to let Logan do exactly what he was offering.

You bit your lip. “If he finds out…” You trailed off, but Logan understood. Of course he did.

He stepped in closer, so close that the rough wool of his shirt brushed against your dress. His hand shifted from your arm to the back of your neck, his fingers resting there firmly, possessively, but with the same strange tenderness he always showed you. “I won’t let him hurt you again,” Logan murmured, voice steady.

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him so badly. And when you looked into his eyes—dark and steady and filled with something raw and unyielding—you thought maybe you could.

Your hand rested flat against his chest, fingers curling slightly into the worn fabric of his shirt. His heartbeat strong beneath your palm, steady and unrelenting.

“He won’t stop, Logan.” Your voice cracked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “He’ll just—he’ll come after me, after us.”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “Let him try,” he said, the words edged with a quiet menace that sent a chill down your spine.

It should have scared you, the way he said it—like violence was something inevitable, something he didn’t shy away from. But instead, it made you feel… safe. Safer than you’d felt in years.

The night air around you was cool, but standing this close to Logan, you felt none of it. His hand slipped from your neck down to the small of your back, his touch warm and steady through the fabric of your dress.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, but even as you said it, you didn’t move away.

Logan’s gaze softened, just a fraction. “I ain’t gonna pretend this is right,” he said, voice rough but quiet. “But I ain’t gonna pretend I don’t want you, either.”

His words hit you hard, sinking deep into your chest. You hadn’t realized how starved you were—how badly you needed someone to see you, to want you. And Logan… he saw everything. The bruises, the fear, the exhaustion. And still, he looked at you like you were worth something.

You swallowed thickly. “What happens if he finds out?”

Logan’s expression darkened. “He won’t.”

The finality in his tone left no room for doubt, and for a moment, all the fear that had been building inside you loosened, just enough to let you breathe.

Without thinking, you reached up, fingertips brushing along the edge of his jaw, feeling the rough scrape of stubble beneath your touch. Logan’s eyes closed briefly, like the small touch was something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time. When his eyes opened again, they were darker, filled with a need that mirrored your own.

He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

His lips found yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, like a man starved for something he couldn’t name. His hand cupped the back of your head, holding you to him as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You melted into him, the fear and exhaustion slipping away, at least for now. His kiss was everything—an escape, a promise, a lifeline.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and trembling, Logan rested his forehead against yours. His hand lingered on your waist, as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“Just say the word, Y/N,” Logan whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Say the word, and we’ll leave. Tonight.”

Your heart ached at the offer—at the thought of running away with him, leaving everything behind. But it wasn’t that simple, and you both knew it.

“I can’t,” you whispered, hating yourself for the truth of it.

Logan’s grip on you tightened briefly, as if trying to hold onto something he couldn’t keep. But when he spoke again, his voice was steady.

“Then I’ll stay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “Until you can.”

You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. For the first time in years, you felt like you weren’t alone.

And that—just that—was enough to keep you going. For now.

---

One of the local churches was having a retreat set up for the women in town. Clara had been talking your ear off about it at Sunday church, spouting how excited she was to get out of the house.

You listened half-heartedly, but really you were thinking about what a perfect excuse it was to flip this into a lie for George.

You told Logan you couldn’t run away with him, but that didn’t include spending these few days with him, maybe off somewhere in a nearby town.

Most of the women in town were very religious, and at times you felt like an outsider. You didn’t believe like they did, but you kept up a perfect front to make them believe you felt the same way.

“Maybe we’ll have another sewing circle this time. Whaddya think?” Clara asked, a wide grin splitting her face as she held her hat against the October breeze.

You gave a noncommittal hum, tugging the sleeves of your dress down to cover the faint bruises on your wrists. “Maybe,” you murmured, though your thoughts were far from sewing circles and prayer sessions.

The retreat was perfect. It would get you out of George’s reach—at least for a couple of days—and give you the time you so desperately craved. More than anything, it meant time with Logan.

Clara didn’t seem to notice your distraction. “It’s always good to get away, you know? Some of these girls say the Holy Spirit really speaks to ‘em up there.” She gave you a knowing look. “Sometimes, you just gotta leave it all behind for a bit.”

You forced a smile. "Maybe that's what I need."

Clara squeezed your arm, oblivious to how you tensed. “See? That’s the spirit! Now you just gotta convince your husband.”

You swallowed thickly. George wouldn’t care about a church retreat if it kept up appearances. He didn’t pay much mind to you unless you were standing in his way—or if dinner wasn’t on time. A couple of days without you underfoot? He’d probably welcome the peace.

Later that night, after George had his fill of supper and slumped into his chair with a bottle, you tested the waters.

“You remember Clara?” you asked, keeping your tone light. “She mentioned a church retreat this weekend. Thought I’d go.”

George barely glanced up. “What for?”

“Some of the other women are going too.” You folded your hands together tightly, hiding your nervous fidgeting. “It’s just a few days. They’ll be praying and sewing... nothing much.”

George grunted, shifting in his chair. “You ain’t skippin' out on Sunday dinner.”

You bit your lip, nodding quickly. “No. I’ll be back before then.”

He waved you off with a lazy flick of his hand. “Fine. Just be sure you ain’t runnin' off to waste money.”

Relief washed over you so fast your knees felt weak. You ducked your head, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you,” before slipping into the next room. It had been easier than you expected—maybe too easy. But you weren’t about to second-guess it.

---

The next day, you told Logan.

You found him where you always did—leaning against the brick wall near the alley, a cigar pinched between his teeth. He straightened the second he saw you, his sharp gaze sweeping over you like it always did, searching for signs of hurt.

“I told George I’m going to the church retreat,” you said quietly, stepping close enough that the warmth of him reached you. “It’s this weekend. I’ll have a couple of days...” You let the words hang between you, heart pounding as you waited for him to understand what you were really saying.

Logan’s jaw ticked, his expression hard to read. “You sure?” His voice was low, the sound of it like gravel underfoot.

You gave a small nod. “It’s the only way I can get away.”

He exhaled through his nose, looking past you for a second before his eyes settled back on yours. “Where’s the retreat supposed to be?”

“About an hour north,” you said. “But... I’m not going there.”

Logan’s lips twitched, something almost like a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That right?”

“Yeah.” Your voice wavered slightly, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “I wanna be with you, Logan. Just for a couple of days. Somewhere... away from here.”

The smirk faded, replaced by something heavier, something that settled deep in his eyes. “You know what you're askin’, darlin’?”

You nodded. “I know.”

He didn’t move for a long moment, just stood there watching you with those steady, knowing eyes. Then, with a slow exhale, he reached for you—his hand slipping under your chin, tilting your face up toward his. His thumb brushed along your jaw, and the touch made your breath catch.

“Where do you wanna go?” Logan asked, his voice rough but gentle.

“Anywhere.” The word slipped out before you could stop it, and you hated how desperate it sounded. “Just... not here.”

Logan gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Alright,” he muttered, the barest flicker of emotion crossing his face. “Meet me at the train station Friday night. I’ll take care of the rest.”

---

Friday came quicker than you expected.

The afternoon dragged, tension curling in your stomach as you packed a small bag. You kept everything simple—a couple of plain dresses, your brush, and the few coins you’d stashed away in a tin under the floorboards. You told yourself it wasn’t permanent. You’d be back in a few days, and everything would go back to how it was.

At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

When the sun began to set, you told George you were leaving. He didn’t even look up from his whiskey. “Just don’t come back actin' all high and holy,” he muttered.

You gave a quick nod, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.

---

The train station was quiet when you arrived, your breath fogging in the cold night air. You spotted Logan almost immediately, standing near the platform with his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. He wore the same tired expression he always did, but when his eyes found yours, something softened in his gaze.

“You made it,” he murmured, stepping closer. His hand found yours, rough fingers wrapping around yours like they belonged there.

“Yeah,” you whispered, squeezing his hand.

Logan gave a small nod toward the waiting train. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.”

You boarded without hesitation, the door clicking shut behind you as the train rumbled to life beneath your feet. Logan led you to a quiet corner of the car, his hand never leaving yours.

As the train pulled away from the station, you glanced out the window. The town grew smaller, the lights fading into the distance until there was nothing but the dark, open night stretching out ahead of you.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself breathe.

Logan’s arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you close against his side. His warmth bled into you, steady and unyielding, and for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

“You alright?” Logan asked quietly, his lips brushing against the top of your head.

You nodded, leaning into him. “Yeah. I am.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly ease as you settled against him. His arm was solid and steady around you, a quiet strength that made you feel secure. The train rocked beneath you, the rhythmic clattering on the tracks filling the silence. You closed your eyes, letting the sound and the warmth of Logan's presence wash over you.

For the first time in what felt like years, you could relax—if only for a little while.

"You got enough for a few days?" Logan asked, his voice gruff but soft, as if he was trying not to push too much too soon.

You nodded, pulling your small bag closer to you. "Yeah. Just the basics."

Logan gave a small grunt of approval. "We'll stop by a place I know, out of the way. You’ll be safe there."

"Safe..." The word hung in the air between you, heavier than you meant it to be. It felt like a luxury you hadn't been allowed for a long time, and the thought of it made your chest tighten.

Logan’s thumb stroked absently along your arm, a small gesture that grounded you. He didn’t press you for more, didn’t ask questions you weren’t ready to answer. That was the thing about Logan—he didn’t pry, didn’t demand anything from you. He just was. It was one of the reasons you felt drawn to him, why you kept finding yourself in his orbit.

But there was still so much you didn’t know about him. He’d never mentioned a family, never talked about where he’d come from or how he ended up here. There was a deep well of mystery around Logan, and sometimes you could feel it, the weight of something unspoken between the two of you. But you didn’t push him for answers either.

You shifted slightly, resting your head against his shoulder, the scent of cigar smoke and pine surrounding you. “Where are we going?”

"There's a place, up in the hills," Logan said quietly. "A cabin. No one's been there in a while. We'll be alone."

Alone. Just the two of you. The thought sent a ripple of excitement and fear through you, your heart skipping a beat. The idea of leaving everything behind—even if just for a few days—felt like a risk. But wasn’t that what you wanted? A break from George, from the town, from the suffocating weight of a life you never really chose.

“You sure about this?” Logan asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. “About… us?”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your decision settle in your chest. It wasn’t just about getting away anymore. It was about choosing him, even if it was only for a little while. A choice that could never be undone.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, lifting your head to look at him. His eyes met yours, dark and searching, like he was looking for any hint of doubt.

Logan’s expression softened, just a fraction, and he gave a slow nod. “Alright.”

The train continued its steady rhythm, carrying you further away from the life you knew and into something unknown. You couldn’t think about what would come after—about George, about the retreat, about the women who would notice your absence. All you could think about was Logan, and the way his hand held yours, like he didn’t want to let go.

---

The cabin was quiet, nestled deep in the woods where no one could find you. Logan hadn’t been lying when he said it was out of the way. You hadn’t passed another soul on the journey here, and the solitude felt like a blanket wrapping around you, warm and comforting.

Logan pushed the door open, the wood creaking slightly under his weight. The inside was simple—rough wooden furniture, a stone fireplace, and a bed in the corner, covered in a faded quilt. It wasn’t much, but it felt safe, isolated from the rest of the world.

“You can get some rest,” Logan said, setting your bag down near the bed. “Fireplace works, and there’s wood out back if it gets cold.”

You nodded, glancing around the room before your eyes settled on him. “Thank you.”

Logan’s gaze flickered, something unreadable passing across his face before he nodded. “Don’t gotta thank me.”

There was a silence between you, not uncomfortable but full of things unsaid. You wanted to ask him more—about why he was helping you, about what he really wanted from all this—but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you stepped closer, your hand brushing against his arm.

“Logan…” you started, unsure of where you were going with it.

He turned to face you fully, his eyes locked on yours. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, then closed the distance between you, your hands reaching up to rest on his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart under your palms, the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

“I just… I needed to be with you,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “You got me,” he murmured, his voice rough but sincere. “For as long as you need.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his. It wasn’t soft or tentative like you thought it might be—it was hungry, desperate, like you’d been holding back for too long.

Logan’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and the world outside the cabin seemed to disappear. There was no George, no town, no expectations. Just you and Logan, and the fire that burned between you.

---

Later, as the fire crackled in the hearth and the two of you lay tangled in each other’s arms, you stared up at the ceiling, your mind racing with everything that had happened.

Logan’s hand trailed idly along your arm, his fingers brushing over the faint bruises you’d tried so hard to hide. His touch was gentle, but you could feel the tension in him, the quiet anger simmering beneath the surface.

“I’ll kill him,” Logan muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “If he ever touches you again.”

You tensed, your breath catching in your throat. “Logan—”

“I mean it,” he growled, his grip on you tightening slightly. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

You turned to face him, your hand resting on his chest. “It’s not that simple…”

Logan’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something raw and painful in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite understand. But then he shook his head, exhaling slowly. “I just don’t wanna lose you. Not again.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but before you could ask what he meant, Logan leaned down and kissed you again, silencing your questions.

The kiss was rough, full of unspoken things—promises, regrets, desires that neither of you could fully articulate. His lips moved against yours like they were trying to drown out the past, to focus only on the here and now. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers digging into his skin, wanting to hold on to this moment for as long as possible.

For now, you didn’t want to think about George. You didn’t want to think about the bruises you were hiding, the lies you had to keep telling to survive. You wanted to focus on Logan—the way his body pressed against yours, the warmth of his breath, the way he made you feel alive.

When you finally broke apart, your breathing heavy, Logan stayed close, his forehead resting against yours. His hand brushed your cheek, and for a moment, the roughness of him softened, like he was letting his guard down.

"You should rest," he murmured, his voice low, but there was a strain in it, like he was trying to hold something back.

You shook your head slightly. "I don’t want to rest. I want to stay here with you."

Logan’s eyes searched yours, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. He lifted his hand, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your skin for just a second longer than necessary.

“You know this can’t last,” he said quietly, the weight of the truth settling between you both.

You nodded, the ache in your chest growing. “I know.”

You had always known it couldn’t last. This was just a moment stolen from the real world—a fantasy that couldn’t survive the harshness of the life waiting for you back home. But that didn’t stop you from wanting it. It didn’t stop you from wanting him.

Logan’s hand found yours again, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that felt almost protective. He hadn’t let go since you’d arrived at the cabin, as if he feared you might slip away if he did.

“I wish it could be different,” you whispered, staring down at your intertwined hands.

Logan was silent for a long time before he spoke. “Me too.”

The fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with warmth, but there was still a chill in the air, an unspoken tension lingering between the two of you. You could feel it in the way Logan’s thumb stroked absentmindedly across your knuckles, like he was trying to ground himself—trying to ground you.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice softer now. “Helping me, I mean.”

Logan’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, his jaw clenching slightly. When he looked back at you, his eyes were hard to read. “Because you deserve better than him.”

It wasn’t a full answer, but it was the closest he’d come to telling you why. You weren’t sure if he was holding something back or if he just didn’t know how to say it. Logan wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, and you’d never pushed him for more than he was willing to give.

You nodded, accepting his answer for now. “Thank you.”

Logan’s eyes softened at your words, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t gotta thank me, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes, letting yourself lean into him. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to just be. No pretending, no worrying about what came next. Just this—just him.

---

The morning light filtered through the small windows of the cabin, casting a soft glow on the wooden floor. You woke to the sound of birds chirping outside and the comforting warmth of Logan’s body beside you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to stay like this, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this peaceful.

Logan stirred beneath you, his arm tightening around your waist as he woke. His eyes flickered open, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, his voice still gravelly with sleep.

You smiled, the corners of your lips tugging up. “Morning.”

Logan gave a quiet grunt in response, shifting slightly beneath you. His hand was still draped over your waist, his fingers rough but warm against your skin. He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, his expression unreadable in the soft morning light, like he was trying to figure out if this moment was real.

“You sleep alright?” he asked, his voice still gravelly with sleep.

You nodded, brushing your fingers absently along his collarbone. “Better than I have in a long time.”

Logan gave a small hum, his thumb tracing circles on your hip. For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that—your body curled into his, the outside world forgotten.

It felt fragile, like if you moved too quickly or said the wrong thing, it might all shatter.

“Gotta admit,” you murmured, “it feels strange waking up like this.”

“Yeah?” Logan's lips twitched, just barely. “Strange good, or strange bad?”

A soft laugh slipped out of you. “Good,” you whispered. “Strange in a good way.”

He held your gaze, something flickering in his eyes—something like relief. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the same quiet intensity you’d come to expect from him. Logan wasn’t a man who wasted words, and that suited you just fine.

The clock on the mantle ticked steadily, marking the minutes passing in this stolen moment. You let out a soft breath and rested your chin on his chest, tracing invisible patterns on his skin with your fingertip.

“What time do you think it is?” you asked, though you didn’t really care about the answer.

Logan turned his head slightly toward the window, where the early morning sun was just beginning to peek through the trees. “Still early.”

“Good.” You nestled closer, unwilling to let the morning slip away just yet.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just ran his hand up and down your back in slow, lazy strokes. The motion was soothing—so different from anything you’d known in your marriage. With George, everything felt like an obligation, a duty. With Logan... it felt like choice.

Logan’s breath stirred your hair as he spoke again, his voice low. “You thinkin' about goin' back?”

The question hit you like a stone dropped into still water, the ripples spreading out in every direction.

You hesitated, your fingers stilling against his chest. “I don’t know.”

Logan’s jaw flexed, and you could feel the tension creep back into him. “If you don’t want to... you don’t gotta.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Logan gave a quiet grunt, his hand still resting against your back, though his grip tightened slightly. “It could be.”

You shook your head. “He’s my husband, Logan.”

Logan exhaled hard through his nose, and you felt the anger simmering just beneath the surface. “That don’t mean you owe him anything.”

The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable, and it tugged at something deep inside you—something that made you want to stay, to never go back to the life you’d left behind.

But it wasn’t that easy. It never was.

“I have to,” you whispered. “At least for now.”

Logan was silent for a long time, his hand resting heavily on your back. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, almost reluctant. “You know where to find me if things get bad.”

It wasn’t a promise, not exactly—but it felt like one.

“I know,” you murmured, brushing a soft kiss against his shoulder.

Logan’s hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your skin. “You got somethin’ to say, darlin’, just say it.”

You closed your eyes, trying to find the words. “I just... I don’t want this to end.”

The admission hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. Logan’s grip on you tightened, his expression darkening.

“It won’t,” he said quietly, and there was a fierceness in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time, you let yourself believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time.

You pressed your forehead against his, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Promise?”

Logan’s breath was warm against your skin. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, Y/N. Not this time.”

Something about the way he said it—like there was more weight behind those words than you could fully understand—made your chest ache. But you didn’t push for more.

Instead, you kissed him.

It was slow this time, tender in a way that made your heart twist painfully in your chest. Logan kissed you back just as softly, his hands cradling you like you were something precious.

And for a little while longer, you let yourself believe in the possibility of happiness.

---

The days you spent at the cabin away from everything with Logan were the closest you think you’d ever get to heaven.

But of course, it had to come to an end. Logan walked you back to your house, keeping to the shadows where the trees thickened along the road. Luckily, George wasn’t home yet, but you knew he’d be back soon. On Sundays, the men from the mines always went to the bar after church, spending what little money they had on whiskey before heading home for dinner.

Logan stopped a few steps short of the porch, his expression unreadable. His heavy boots crunched against the dirt, and he tilted his head, listening for signs of anyone nearby. It was quiet—just the soft rustling of the wind through the trees and the distant caw of a crow.

“Looks clear,” he muttered, glancing toward the road. Then his eyes were back on you—sharp, like he was committing every detail of this moment to memory.

You stood there, one hand gripping the hem of your plain cotton dress, the other clutching the shawl draped over your shoulders. It was getting colder, October creeping in around the edges.

Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. He shifted his weight, arms folding across his chest. “You sure you’re good?” His voice was low, rough as gravel.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered, but the words felt thin, like paper stretched too tight.

His eyes flicked over your face, lingering on the bruise near your jaw that hadn’t quite faded. You saw it—the way his knuckles twitched like he wanted to tear something apart, or maybe someone. But Logan knew better than to push this conversation again. You’d had it more times than either of you cared to count.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he said, quieter this time, but no less serious. “If things get—”

“I know.” You cut him off gently, giving a small nod. “I know where to find you.”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. The porch steps creaked under your weight as you climbed them slowly, heart heavy in your chest. You reached for the door, but before your fingers touched the worn wood, you felt his hand wrap gently around your wrist.

You turned, meeting his gaze.

“You ain’t alone in this,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist. It was the kind of touch that made your knees weak—steady, solid, full of unspoken promises.

“I know,” you whispered, holding his gaze a second longer than you should have. Then you pulled your hand free, feeling the cold settle in the space where his warmth had been.

The door clicked quietly behind you, sealing you inside.

---

It was well into the afternoon by the time George came home. You’d set the table with what little you had—a pot of boiled potatoes, bread that was more crust than loaf, and a pan of cold pork you’d managed to stretch out since Friday.

George slammed the door behind him, the stench of sweat and beer clinging to his clothes. He tossed his flat cap onto the chair and grunted as he sat down heavily at the table.

“Where’s the roast?” he asked, eyeing the measly spread with disapproval.

“There wasn’t any.” You kept your voice even, steady, though your hands trembled slightly as you placed the food in front of him.

George gave you a hard look, his lip curling in disgust. “Useless,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.

You clenched your jaw, swallowing the sharp retort that burned on your tongue. Fighting him would only make it worse.

He ate in silence, the scrape of his knife against the plate the only sound in the small kitchen. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed his chair back with a loud scrape.

“Goin’ to bed,” he grumbled, already halfway out of the room before you could respond.

The knot in your stomach tightened, but you stayed still, standing in the middle of the kitchen long after the sound of his boots thudding down the hallway faded.

It was always like this. A dull, suffocating ache—day after day, night after night. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if you had the strength to keep pretending.

---

It was well past midnight when you slipped out the back door. The cold bit at your skin, and you pulled your shawl tighter around your shoulders as you made your way down the dirt path leading into the woods. The moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light across the clearing where Logan was waiting, his broad frame leaning against a tree trunk.

He looked up as you approached, his keen eyes catching the moonlight.

“Figured you’d come.” There was no smugness in his tone—just quiet understanding, like he’d known all along that you wouldn’t be able to stay away.

You stopped a few feet from him, your breath clouding in the crisp night air. “I couldn’t do it,” you admitted, your voice small.

Logan pushed off the tree and closed the distance between you in two strides. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, firm and grounding. “You ain’t gotta explain.”

You looked up at him, heart aching with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t. Instead, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his chest.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. You felt the steady rise and fall of his breath, the quiet strength in the way he held you—like he’d fight the whole world just to keep you safe.

“I missed you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Logan’s grip tightened. “I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The night stretched on around you, silent and still, as Logan’s hands roamed up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes.

“You stayin’ tonight?” he asked quietly, his breath warm against your hair.

You nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Just tonight.”

Logan didn’t argue. He never did.

He took your hand, lacing his rough fingers through yours, and led you deeper into the woods—away from the house, away from the life you were supposed to live.

And for one stolen night, you let yourself believe it was enough.

---

When you got home later that night, around 3 in the morning, everything looked normal. The lights in the house were all off, and it was quiet.

You hung your shawl on the hook by the door when you heard the clink of a bottle. Your heart sank. George was awake.

The small kitchen was dim, the only light coming from the dying embers of the fire. George sat slouched at the table, a nearly empty whiskey bottle in his hand. His eyes were dark, glazed over with drunken fury. You could tell by the set of his jaw, by the way his knuckles gripped the bottle too tight, that this wasn’t going to end well.

“Where’ve you been?” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it. His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood, his steps heavy as he moved toward you.

“I went to clear my head,” you said softly, keeping your voice calm, steady, though your heart pounded in your chest. “The air helps me sleep.”

George narrowed his eyes. “That so? 'Cause Johnny’s wife told me somethin' different. Said she didn’t see you at the church retreat.”

You froze. You had been at the retreat—briefly—but it was a cover for your meeting with Logan, and Johnny’s wife must’ve been one of the few people you didn’t see. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words stuck in your throat.

“I was there,” you managed, though you knew it wouldn’t matter.

George took another step toward you, his voice rising. “Don’t lie to me!” His breath stank of alcohol as he spat the words at you, the anger radiating off him like heat. “What were you really doin’, Y/N? Who were you with?”

Your stomach twisted in fear as his hand shot out, grabbing your arm hard enough to make you wince. “George, please—” you started, but he cut you off.

“I know you weren’t there. Where the hell were you?” He shook you, his grip tightening painfully around your arm.

You winced, biting back a cry. “I told you, I was there.”

But George wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes flicked to the door, then back to you, and a dangerous look settled across his face. “You been sneakin’ around on me, haven’t you?” His voice was low, deadly now. He released your arm with a shove, sending you stumbling back a step. “You think I’m stupid?”

“George, I’m not sneaking around,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm even though your pulse was racing. “I just needed some air. I—”

His hand moved faster than you expected, backhanding you hard across the face. Pain exploded through your cheek, and you stumbled, clutching the side of your face as tears sprang to your eyes.

“You think I don’t know?” George hissed, his face twisted with fury. “You’ve been leavin’ me here, goin’ off, God knows where. You ain’t foolin’ me, Y/N.”

You took a shaky breath, tasting blood where your teeth had cut your lip. “George, please—”

But he was already moving, crossing the small kitchen in two heavy steps. You saw the glint of metal before he pulled the shotgun from the corner near the door. Panic seized you.

“George, no—” Your voice broke as you held up your hands, trying to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The small kitchen felt like a cage, the walls closing in around you.

George leveled the shotgun at you, his hands shaking slightly but his eyes wild with rage. “You think you can just leave? You think you can just run off whenever you please?”

You felt like you were drowning, your heart pounding so hard in your chest it hurt. “I wasn’t leaving,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wasn’t—George, please, put the gun down.”

“Shut up!” he snarled, taking a step toward you. “You’re lyin’! You’ve always been lyin’, and I’m done with it.”

You were shaking, trying to think of something, anything that would get through to him. “I’m your wife,” you said quietly, desperately. “I’ve never wanted to hurt you. I—”

But the words didn’t matter. Nothing you said would stop this. You could see it in his eyes—the cold, determined look of a man who had already made up his mind.

For a moment, everything felt frozen. The ticking of the old clock on the wall, the crackling of the dying fire—it all seemed too loud, too slow. George’s finger twitched on the trigger.

And then, in an instant, the world shattered.

The shotgun blast was deafening, the sound tearing through the small kitchen like thunder. You didn’t even feel the impact at first—just a sharp, searing pain that spread through your chest, knocking the air from your lungs.

You stumbled, your legs giving out beneath you as you hit the floor hard, the cold tiles pressing against your cheek. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, blood pooling around you.

The room swam, your vision dimming as you tried to focus, but all you could see was the dark shape of George standing over you, the shotgun still smoking in his hands.

---

Logan heard the shot before he smelled the blood.

His body reacted instinctively, his enhanced senses kicking into overdrive. He’d been lying awake, his thoughts consumed by you, when the sound echoed through the still night. There was no mistaking it.

His heart lurched in his chest, and without thinking, Logan bolted to his feet, running toward your house, his mind racing with fear. He knew. He knew it was you.

The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air as he neared the house. Logan’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the door slightly ajar, the soft light spilling out into the dark.

He pushed the door open, his claws already unsheathed.

The sight that greeted him froze him in place.

You were lying on the floor, a pool of blood spreading out around you, your breaths coming in shallow, painful gasps. And standing over you, his face twisted with something like confusion, was George.

Logan’s vision blurred with red.

He didn’t think—he just moved. In a blur, he was on George, his claws slashing through the air. There was a sickening crunch as the bone tore through flesh and bone, and then George was on the ground, lifeless.

Logan didn’t care. His only focus was you.

He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering over your body, desperate to stop the bleeding, but there was too much. The wound was too deep. “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough, desperate. “Stay with me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, but it was hard to focus. Everything felt distant, like you were floating just out of reach of the world. You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Blood bubbled at your lips.

Logan’s face hovered above yours, his expression shattered. “Please, darlin’, hold on. Just hold on.”

You coughed, the pain in your chest unbearable, and for a brief moment, your eyes met his. The world was fading fast now, slipping away like sand through your fingers.

“Logan...” you managed, your voice barely a whisper.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears you didn’t even realize had fallen. “I’m here,” he choked out. “I’m here.”

You smiled weakly, even as the darkness closed in around you. “I… I love you.”

Logan’s breath hitched, his grip on you tightening like he could somehow hold you to this world. But you knew, just as he did, that this was the end.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Your chest ached, not just from the pain but from the weight of those words—the weight of knowing this was goodbye.

And then, everything went still.

You felt Logan’s hand in yours, the warmth of his touch lingering even as the world around you faded into darkness.

You weren’t afraid. Not anymore.

You were free.

Logan knelt there, holding you long after the last breath left your body, his heart breaking all over again.

in this chapter logan is 68 years old and reader is around 21-24 years old.

just a reminder that going forward there is going to be an age gap between the two since logan obviously keeps getting older.

[lght-roastcoffee]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ Scared ⋆ ˚｡⋆

prompt: "I'm in love with you, and that scares me."┆Tuna-Tober ⊹ Day 8

pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

wordcount: 692

warnings: slight language, mentions of past injuries, angst with a happy ending

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢-𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹

I can’t stop thinking about him.

Him and his bright green eyes. His freckle-dusted cheeks. The leather jacket he always wears. It’s probably so warm. He’s so kind to those he saves. He may not show it often, keeping his emotions behind a well guarded wall, but I see it every time. 

Dean Winchester is a beaten and bruised man with the heart of a hero. I understand why he can’t let anyone in. I understand the past burdens placed on his shoulders and the horrors he’s had to witness. But why does he have to be so mean?

“It’s like every time I turn my back you’re there needing saving.” Dean lifts the glass of whiskey in his hands to his plush lips and takes a sip. “Just for one night, that’s all I asked. But you can’t stay out of danger.”

“Dean, it’s not like I wanted to be attacked.” I huff, crossing my arms, leaning my back against the Roadhouse bar next to him. 

“Well, it sure seems like it sometimes,” he says, taking another swig. 

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “What are you trying to say, Dean?”

“I’m saying I’m tired of always saving your ass when I should be busy ganking the monsters.”

I huff again, pushing myself away from the bar. “Am I that useless to you?”

He sighs, looking down at the glass now resting on the bar and closes his eyes. “I’m just saying you’re getting reckless, Y/N. I’m not always gonna be there to save you when things go sideways.”

“But you don’t want me around.” I face Dean, anger and frustration slowly rising in me. “I’m just another burden to you right?”

Dean lifts his head, looking to the ceiling, before facing me, slight frustration coating his expression. “Stop putting words in my mouth, Y/N. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“But that is what you meant,” I say, voice raising slightly in anger. “I get it, Dean, really. You’re tired of saving me. You’re tired of babysitting the child you see me as. If I’m such a burden, maybe I should just leave then.”

I start walking towards the doors of the Roadhouse, but a hand at my wrist stops me in my tracks. Dean spins me back to face him, eyebrows scrunched together and frustration shining in his eyes. “Damn it, Y/N! Just let me talk!”

Thank whoever is listening that it’s empty right now. “No, Dean, I think you’ve said all you’ve been wanting to say.”

He lets go of my wrist and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further than it was. “I… I’m in love with you!” I freeze, his words running through my head as I process them. “And that scares me, okay? I-I don’t want to be the reason you die or see you die. I can’t handle that.”

The frustration slowly leaves my body as it relaxes seeing the man I’ve been crushing on in such a vulnerable state.

“Dean,” I whisper, closing the space between us. I rest a hand on his shoulder, making him look at me. “I love you, too.”

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into him as I wrap mine over his shoulders. He buries his head in my shoulder and just holds me like that. I squeeze him just as hard in return, enjoying the comfort he brings. After a while, he pulls back slightly and cups my face in one of his rough hands. I stare wide eyed into his emerald ones shining in gratitude and love. Tired of waiting any longer, I pull him down and press my lips to his softly. Dean sighs into the kiss, lips moving against my own as he deepens it slightly.

Someone behind me clears their throat, causing us to separate in surprise. We both turn our heads towards the door to see Sam standing there. “Did I miss something?”

I laugh as Dean chuckles into my shoulder, placing a kiss there. Dean pulls away smiling as he looks me in the eyes again. 

“Just walk away, Sammy.”

[crazy-ache]

Lucien Week 2024: Day 6 - Reputation | @lucienweekofficial

On the Sharp Edge of a Blade Lucien & Eris Drabble (ft. Elucien Angst) - 1k words

He found Lucien alone in the manor, a half-finished glass of whiskey in hand.  “Allow me to guess,” Eris carefully seated himself in the armchair next to him, facing the fire. “Another unsuccessful evening in the Night Court?” 

Read on Ao3 or Below Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

He found Lucien alone in the manor, a half-finished glass of whiskey in hand. 

Typically when Eris stopped by the mortal lands to meet with his youngest brother, their conversations were pointed, an efficient exchange of only necessary information. There were no pleasantries by nature of their shared blood and history, perhaps there might never have been between the brothers. Which is why the words were both stiff and strange on his tongue as Eris faced Lucien. 

“Is everything alright?” 

His brother sat upon a large armchair, staring into the dancing flames inside the fireplace, not even bothering to glance at his arrival. There was no Jurian or Vassa to be found in the human manor. It was bleak on this side of the wall, even with the fire burning in the room. Warmth only met the emptiness of the room, vanishing without a trace. It wasn’t the kind of place he imagined for his youngest brother.

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” Lucien said, followed by another sip of his amber colored drink.

There was only one kind of sorrow that could affect Lucien in such a matter, to the point of bitter, cracked numbness—afflictions of the heart. For when it came to Lucien, it was always the condition of love that plagued the male. In this case, it was undoubtedly his mate. 

“Allow me to guess,” Eris carefully seated himself in the armchair next to him, facing the fire. “Another unsuccessful evening in the Night Court?” 

Lucien answered with a low, sardonic laugh. The ice clinked in his drink as he brought it to his lips for another swallow. Eris remained entirely still, waiting for him to confirm his most obvious observations. 

“I think I’d prefer if she would just reject the bond. Get it over with and relieve me of the misery.” 

Eris cocked his head slightly, his lips pressing into a thin frown. For most of Lucien’s life, his reputation across Pyrthian had been painted with broad, flattering strokes of his rakish charm, his troublesome tongue, and his beauty. It had been no secret and had begun early in the Autumn Court, and they had even followed him to Spring for some time, even after his exile. Even after Amarantha and her punishment. But these days even Eris was well aware of his brother’s current reputation—of a sad, miserable mate pining after his female. 

“Then why do you keep castigating yourself and trying?” Eris asked quietly, though sharply, like the fine edge of a blade piercing into flesh. “Why do you keep returning to their horrid court if she does not want you?” 

Lucien looked at him. His russet eye smoldered and his mechanical orb whirred, as if it were looking for something deep inside Eris. No, as if it were pleading with him. Pleading to avoid admitting the truth and hoped to find a semblance of mercy. But Eris did not waver in his gaze, as if that action alone could forcibly push the blade deeper into his brother’s wound until he talked. 

He sighed, his stare slowly dragging to the crackling fire.

“Even when she will not speak to me, will not so much as look in my direction, I feel as though I cannot stop—will never be able to stop—showing up on her doorstep with a present and my terrified heart filled with mangled hope. Because—”

The pain etched across his features exacerbated the scar spliced down his face. Eris hated this moment. He hated everything about it. 

“I fear if I stop going she will forget me entirely,” Lucien finally said, and he couldn’t hide the quiver in his words.

Eris steeled himself. To prevent himself from casting Lucien a look of pity. 

Lucien cleared his throat, staring into the bottom of his drink before finishing it all in one gulp. “On the other hand, I also fear what would become of me—of the madness they say befalls the male.” 

The fire flared at that, a small tell that Eris was displeased. He crossed one leg over his knee and curled his lip. “You would be fine, Lucien. You would survive.” 

“I’m not quite sure how I would ever be happy again—”

“Being happy is for children,” Eris snapped at him. “When you have a blade buried in your gut, happiness is the least of your concerns. You either pull the blade out and bleed out or you keep it in—to survive. You learn to live with the pain. Life finds a way around.” 

Lucien set his glass on the table. A few empty bottles clinked at the movement. 

“How can you be so sure?” 

He narrowed his eyes at his brother, unused to being questioned. But there had been more than just time and distance between the two brothers in the last few centuries. 

“Because you are a Vanserra,” Eris stated matter-of-factly. He picked up one of the whiskey bottles and pretended to inspect the label with lazy interest to avoid witnessing Lucien’s reaction. “Whether you like it or not.” 

He settled the glass bottle back on the table, forcing himself to meet Lucien’s penetrating stare. It was full of longing and crestfallen hope on the precipice of devastation. The Vanserra name brought his little brother no comfort—it never had. 

“And if mother can survive it, then so can you,” Eris said softly. 

There it was. The unspoken truth they had never so much dared to broach their entire existence. A secret so dangerous it would ruin their mother if ever discovered by Beron. The Lady of Autumn and her broken, unsettled mating bond to another High Lord. Eris was decidedly not a fool and he never had been one before in his life. Yet in that moment, he couldn’t be anything else to even whisper a mere mention of it simply to alleviate the pain on Lucien’s face. 

His brother nodded, understanding washing over him. 

Eris stood to his feet, as if Autumn were warning him to return before he did anything else moronic. Something gnawed at him to not leave Lucien behind, but he was already heading to the door, the magic of his winnowing abilities singing through his body with every step, readying to escape. 

Before he could leave, he stilled and looked over his shoulder. 

“She would have done it by now. For what it’s worth,” Eris called out. Lucien looked up, his brows furrowed in confusion. “If that’s what she wanted—a rejection. I don’t think she would have waited all this time.” 

Several heartbeats passed before Lucien made a motion as if he were pulling out an invisible dagger from his chest. It was exactly the confirmation he needed to know that he would be alright getting drunk alone for the rest of the evening. 

“You should go,” Lucien said, leaning back into his chair. “Before your reputation as a cold-hearted bastard is effectively ruined.” 

Eris laughed, even as he vanished into darkness. 

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 18: Renewed Desire

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes is a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: In an attempt to help them, Lucien invites the sisters for a journey. The shadows always take her side. Two years later, Azriel and Nyra finally let their desires take over. (SMUT FROM THE NEXT CHAPTER)

Author's message: From this chapter onwards, I will not follow the original plot. There will be a timeskip among other changes.

@feerique always and eternally grateful to you!!✨✨

Word count: 5.5k (Enjoy!!)

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

After the war, the  Cauldron made Archerons were dragged into politics with Vassa’s request to draft a new treaty. 

The twins worked on the draft treaty and correspondences while Elain helped out those affected by the war in Velaris. 

And one fine day, Lucien paid a visit. Nesta answered the door. 

“We’re the only ones here. You’ll have to go to the River House for the others.” Nesta sounded dull. 

“My lady.” He bowed. “I’m here to speak to the three of you.” 

Nesta blinked and quietly made way for his entry. She closed the door and held his gaze before she turned and entered the house. “Come with me.” 

They moved towards the corridor and stopped in front of a room. Nesta knocked on the door. “We have a visitor.”

Papers shuffled, wood moved against wood, fabrics swished, and Nyra Archeron opened the door. The lightning wielder saw Lucien and exited the room, closing the door behind her. 

They reached the backyard where Elain was planting saplings. Elain immediately turned and met Lucien’s gaze. Nesta cleared her throat. “He wishes to speak to us.” 

Elain quietly set aside her tools, stood up, brushed off the dirt on her hands, and joined them. She looked at him, her gaze unwavering. “Yes?” 

The male was now definitely entranced. Probably because she was addressing him for the first time. 

“Before I begin, let me clarify that I’m not suggesting this because. . .” The autumn-born trailed away, looking at Elain. She tilted her head in a Nyra fashion. “I’d like all three of you to come with me.”

“Why?” Nesta was not even harsh. 

“A change in scenery.” 

Silence prevailed before Elain spoke. “The sunlight here is not that great.”

“What kind of change in scenery?” Nyra had only asked and Lucien had begun advertising all the different places he’d travel to after leaving Night.

“We’re not used to travelling. We’ll only burden you.” Nesta was cordial with her implied refusal but he was adamant. 

“I’m going for diplomatic discussions. It won’t be hectic. It’ll give you more ideas for the treaty drafting.” Lucien paused looking at Nyra before shooting his next question. “And wouldn’t you like to see the world?” 

The lightning wielder looked up at him, clearly intrigued. “Are you prepared for this?”

“I can only try, my lady.” He honestly answered. 

“Do you understand what this means?” Elain finally asked. 

“You are people. I know how to behave around people.” He answered, looking straight into those brown eyes. 

“That’s not what I meant.” She retorted. 

“I also understand that you’ll have your cycles. I have helped my mother with hers so there’s no need to worry on that front.” Elain simply blushed as her sense of propriety from her human life prevailed. “I’m a decent cook. And I’ll be ready for whatever you need of me.”

“You need not worry about cooking. We’re good at that.” Elain waved her hand. 

“It’s not just the cycle.” Nesta sighed. “We’re different from other fae. We’re even different from each other.” 

And Lucien remained persistent, silently meeting their gaze in turns. 

“All right.” Nyra was the first to succumb. 

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” Elain comment lightheartedly. Lucien only stared at her in disbelief.

“Fine.” Nesta agreed.

“Do you have any pending works I can assist with?”

Nesta opened her mouth to refuse but she halted. She contemplated the offer and met his gaze with more acceptance. “Actually, yes.” 

“I’ll join you after this.” Elain nodded at him and quickly returned to her work. 

“It’s nearly dinner time.” Nyra mused. 

“Shall I cook something?” Lucien offered. The twins looked at him blankly. 

“When I accepted your assistance for pending works, it was not for household chores.” Nesta wondered why he would even offer to cook for them right now. 

“We can dine outside.” Nyra suggested.

“Eula’s.” Elain called from the distance. 

“Eula’s, it is.” Nyra looked at the sky, its pink and violet hues bringing the night. 

“Come with me, Lucien.” Nesta began. “I’d like your opinion on something.” The flame wielders headed inside. 

Nyra continued to stare at the sky as she reached Elain. “Does his presence bother you?” 

“Quite the opposite.” Elain whispered. “Is it the bond or is it him that calms me?”

“Maybe, you’ll know soon.” Nyra walked away. 

An hour later, they had dressed and departed. Eula’s was a fifteen minute walk. Many people greeted Elain, having interacted during her daily visits to the city. Neither twin interacted with anyone. Lucien smiled politely at a few familiar faces. They reached Eula’s nearly half an hour later. 

****

The shadowsinger was already sitting on the roof of the building opposite the one where Eula’s was. He’d seen Nyra as she walked with her sisters and that redheaded bastard. 

Green silk wrapped her body and flowed with her every movement. Hair in a loose bun with curls escaping near her ears. 

When was this female ever going to let him have his senses? 

Every single time he saw her, she consumed him wholly. 

He wanted to be near her, touch her, kiss her, and whisper sweet things to her. 

Could she ever give him a moment to catch his breath?

And then he remembered.

She was going to leave. 

His heart cracked. 

And the shadows were wailing. 

But if this is what was needed. If this is what she needed to regain her spirits. He’d support her. 

****

Azriel winnowed in front of the townhouse. He was nervous. He felt pathetic. Maybe, he should’ve come after a while. They’d only just returned from dinner. 

As soon as his shadows were about to take him away, the door opened. 

Nyra watched him with wide eyes and took a step outside. The shadows stopped and let him be. More shadows were around her wrist.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

This beautiful creature, brilliant and full of wonders. What had he ever done to deserve a mating bond with her? 

“Were you leaving?” She whispered. 

“Yes.”

“And now?”

“I want to stay.” 

That moment filled with tenderness and intimacy they shared before the High Lords’ meet bloomed again. From when she’d kissed the corner of his lips. 

“Come in.” She led Azriel to the office she’d taken over and he closed the door behind him. 

Silence prevailed as she sat on her desk, now empty of all the papers and pens. Nyra looked at her hands. “I’m leaving.”

“I know.” 

She looked up at him.

“They told me.” She nodded and looked at the black snakes crawling around her fingers.

Azriel did not know what to say. He wanted her to stay but if this is what she wanted then how could he say otherwise? 

What if this is what she needed? A change? 

Change helped him a lot. He learned how to fly, cook, sew, kill, maim, and so much more. Perhaps he’d changed for the better and worse. 

The bond between them thrummed silently, a reminder of life. The storms in her mind were chaotic.

He walked forward and stopped two steps away from her. “May I?”

“What are you asking?”

“To touch you.” He heard her breath hitch. She nodded.

“Words, Nyra.”

She looked at him, eyes gleaming. “Yes.” 

Azriel wrapped her in a hug, his entire frame covering her like a shield against the world. There was no one but them. 

Nyra wrapped her hands around his torso. 

“Be safe.” He felt her nod against his chest. “Be happy.” Another nod. “Write to me.” She raised her chin, rested it against his chest,  and looked up at him. 

Gods fucking damn this world. 

She was too fucking adorable like this. 

He never wanted to let go.

“You’ll write to me too?” She whispered. 

And he smiled. “I’ll write to you too. But I may delay when I’m on a mission.”

“Mhm.” 

Azriel brushed the hair away from her forehead and kissed her there. 

“Have you had dinner?” She asked. 

Azriel went rigid. “No.” 

“Shall I prepare something then?” He was blank for all but a second before he began panicking. The shadows began cheering and panicking. 

She’s accepting? No, she wasn’t. 

She’s only offering food. She doesn’t know. Exactly. 

Of course, she doesn’t know. Because he was a fucking coward, that’s why.

Should we apply for leave? No!

A month? A month? Why were these idiots going overboard? 

Master hasn’t had sex in fifty two years. Owing to Amarnatha’s reign and the overload of work before his mating bond with Nyra snapped. 

He’s become a beacon of celibacy.

Does master remember how to bed a woman? What? 

How to please our mistress? What even? 

He’s going to embarrass us. What in the everloving fuck?

“Have you had dinner?” Azriel managed to ask between his shadows’ commentary. 

“Yes. I can cook-”

“I’ll eat at the House. I don’t want to bother you.”

“Nonsense.” She leaned back to look at him properly. Nyra seemed mad at how he spoke about himself. “You’re not a bother.”

A silence settled between them. He played with the baby hairs on her forehead and the side of her ears and Nyra enjoyed it as she felt ticklish. 

“How are your nightmares?” She asked. His hand near her ear stopped playing with her ear and dropped to her shoulder. 

“Manageable.” He was lying. 

“And the headaches?” 

“Tolerable.” Another lie. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

“Lying is a part of my job description. I’m famously good at it.” Azriel tried to lighten the mood with an awkward smile. She sees through you.

“Unbelieve.” She was playing with his hair when she traced his ears. He loved her touch. He wanted more of it. “Your ears remind me of when I was human.”

“Bad memories?” 

“Bad and good.” She seemed to be lost as she traced the curve of his ear. Azriel sighed, her touch a reminder that the world was worth something. 

She was still wearing that green silk. Her neck craned to look at his face and he only wanted to kiss her. This was unbearable. 

“I’ll take your leave now.” He kissed her left hand and let the shadows take him away even as she called his name. 

****

The next day right before dawn, Rhysand stood at a distance from the townhouse with Lucien. “Day Court?”

“Yes, I’ve received a welcoming reply for our arrival.” 

Rhysand wondered when Lucien would discover his paternity. Politics was such a twisted thing and he only pitied the male who was unaware he’d be inevitably dragged into it even more than he already was. “If anything happens-”

“I know. You’ll slit my throat.”

“I was going to tell you to call out for me. If you’re anywhere in the Middle, then contact might be difficult so be prepared for greater risks.”

“Why would we go to the Middle?” Lucien looked at him oddly. 

“You’ll find that your mate is curious about plant life in the Middle. The twins may be drawn towards the monsters.”

“The Weaver?” 

“We won the war but three ancient gods are now free.” The twin gods and Bryaxis were released for war and were now free to roam the lands even though recent reports suggested their presence in the Middle. 

“What if the monsters are drawn to them?” 

“Elain’s power shouldn’t. The twins will.” Rhysand sighed. “I’ll ask Azriel.” He closed his eyes and sighed. His power thrummed and the next minute, the Spymaster joined them from a swirl of shadows. 

“What?” 

“Brooding already, brother? The sun hasn’t even risen.” Rhysand smirked. 

“And what are you doing here?” Azriel coldly asked, turning towards a larger fae cloaked in greying rags. 

The Suriel grinned, displaying its sharp teeth. Its face turned to the townhouse standing at a distance. 

Nyra Archeron appeared at the balcony in a nightdress and a robe, stretching her arms. And then she turned to look straight at Azriel. 

His breath hitched. If he could ever wake up to that sight, embracing that beautiful female, he’d count himself blessed. 

“Blessed you are indeed, shadowsinger.” The Suriel’s ominous voice spoke. “And even more blessed you will be.” The wind took those words and carried them away to the world. 

The Suriel took a step only to see a flash of lightning as Nyra emerged. It grinned and folded in the middle, a casual bow. “Greetings to the Sovereign of the Skies.” 

Azriel’s shadows were with her, twirling around her hands and hair and the hem of her nightdress.

“Your robe looks fantastic, Conqueror of the Cauldron.”

At that comment, the shadows slashed the Suriel, dismembering a leg. It kneeled with the other and cackled. As though it had been misted, the ghastly creature disappeared. 

Azriel walked over to her. The shadows had produced a cloak which materialised on her shoulders. They wrapped her up nicely in it, tying all the knots for her. 

Nyra frowned at him, probably for fleeing like that last night. She closed her eyes and buried her face in the cloak. Fur tickled her cheeks and she removed her face. The cold made her blush. “Rhys? Lucien?”

“Hello, Nyra.”

“Good morning.”

“Hello, hello. Good morning.” She was unusually cheerful for someone who’d frowned at him. 

Why did you run away? Here we go. Again. When were they going to stop reprimanding him like a child?

She thinks you rejected her. What?

You should listen to her when she speaks. 

Oh fucking fuck. He didn’t. Azriel could never reject her. He would never dare. 

“You’re in a good mood.” Rhys remarked fondly, a tone Azriel remembered had been reserved for Maia and now, Nyra.

“Nesta made hot chocolate. And none of us are having nightmares these days.” 

“And you’re still sleepy.” Lucien eased into the conversation. Azriel wondered if last night’s dinner had increased the familiarity between him and the sisters. 

“It’s winter.” She pouted. Azriel would have a heart attack any time soon if she remained that adorable. “I’d rather be in bed than anywhere else.” 

“We’re to leave soon. I hope you haven’t forgotten.” Lucien reminded. They were going to leave this afternoon. The Day Court was the first destination. 

“I remember.” And she was going to leave thinking he’d rejected her. But she was just too pretty for him to stay in her presence and remain sane. 

Azriel took a step forward and she immediately glared at him and then turned to Rhys. “I need to freshen up. Meet you later?”

“We’ll meet you after breakfast.” Rhysand assured. 

****

Azriel, being his calm, stoic self with no ability to communicate the deepest of his feelings, watched quietly as Nyra and her sisters left with Lucien. She spared him a withering glance before the party winnowed away. 

Once they left, the shadows began screaming. You better write to her, you stupid male. 

Beg for her forgiveness. 

You’re a grown adult. Miscommunication at this age is disgusting. For a Spymaster, he had fucked up in communicating vital information to his mate. 

Get your shit together before someone else sweeps her away. 

There’s no shortage of males or females who’d want her attention and affection. 

They wouldn’t shut up. They kept on screaming and yelling so much that he winnowed away to his mother’s house for comfort, knowing they’d behave around her. 

****

Two years later. 

Azriel knew he had fucked up. He was the one who’d proposed the idea of writing and he was also the one who’d stopped correspondence. 

Despite Nyra being upset with him, they’d written to each other and then there was a mission that lasted too long. 

He assumed that a pause warranted an explanation but his draft letters were unsatisfactory and he ended up not sending a letter or replying to hers. He even disappeared when she visited. 

It had been nearly four months since they stopped corresponding and two years since she’d left Velaris. 

Azriel couldn’t do this. He couldn’t live without seeing her, or talking to her, or feeling her. He wanted to lose his senses to her. 

He was also scared. 

Because she was his equal and identical in one particular aspect—they did not forgive or forget as evinced by how she’d killed her mother. And this much might have been enough for her to consider him a traitor. 

And with fear and need, he finally showed up at the Archeron residence with her favourite cheesecake. 

****

The living room of the manor was a scene from a horror novel. Probably because Nesta was glaring at Azriel from the armchair she had seated herself on. 

“I’m sorry.” He bowed his head. He’d been so afraid of Nyra’s reaction that he’d forgotten that Nesta Archeron was a terrifying female. 

“I hope you’ve made arrangements for your funeral.” She was frosty one moment and then gave him an overly cheerful smile. “I’m looking forward to that.” 

Nesta was really looking forward to his death. Surely, Nyra was not that harsh. Right? 

The door opened loudly and Nyra marched in, eager and bright as she called her twin. “Nesta, there’s. . .” 

She was radiant in silver, he wanted to kneel and beg for everything. 

His heartbeat felt heavy, the organ ready to break through his ribs. His mouth parted and throat dried and he did not say anything. He had no words no matter how many times he’d rehearsed his apology. 

And then Nyra noticed Azriel, who stood up instantly. He was nervous and anxious and so many things but she simply dismissed his existence and started talking to Nesta about a new novel. 

The twins chatted for not more than two minutes before promising to resume the conversation later. Nyra turned on her heel and headed towards the door when her name escaped his lips. 

“Who are you?” She sounded like she’d met an unpleasant creature and she’d rather be anywhere else. 

The shadowsinger flinched. “It’s me. Azriel.”

“Come to think of it. I knew someone by that name.” Thunder roared outside. “That Azriel who did not write for four months?” 

“I-”

“Or was it that Azriel who did not bother showing his face for the past year?” Oh, she was so gloriously merciless. 

“Nyra. .”

“I thought he was dead.” She smiled so sweetly and Azriel heard Nesta snort. “Since he did not visit or write.”

“I’m alive, Nyra.” He moved closer.

“Shall I rectify that?” Lightning crackled at her fingertips as she raised her hand. 

“Please. .” It was foolish to avoid our precious mistress. 

She spared him nothing before walking away. Azriel followed her. “Nyra. Please. Just listen to me.” 

Nyra simply walked as if he didn’t exist and entered her room. He followed and caught her wrist. When she turned back, Azriel was greeted with indifference. 

“I had a mission that lasted a month and I wrote letters and never sent them because I didn’t think any of them was adequate enough reply and by the time I wrote a decent letter, five months had passed and I’d already heard that you were furious and I-ow!” 

Nyra smacked his arm, interrupting his rant. “What’s the point of writing letters if you can’t be bothered to send them?” 

Azriel took a step back in response to her advancing towards him. He moved around the bed only to be chased after. She was furious. “You could’ve just visited.” 

“I had another mission.” 

“That’s what letters are for.” She grabbed a bottle of something and threw it at him. The shadows caught it and gently set it down where it was. “No, don’t protect him.” She took a pen. “Let him feel everything.” 

“Nyra, please.”

“You fucking idiot!” The pen hit him. He caught the empty vase. Clearly, the shadows were siding with her. And then she grabbed a dagger. “You and your stupidity warrants everything I throw at you.” Exactly!

“Sweetheart, that’s a dagger.” Azriel only processed the sound of the weapon landing on the wooden column behind him. His wings dropped. 

“You repeat this again and I won’t miss.” Gods, she was so beautiful—all feral and angry at him. At him. 

Oh, this marvellous female. 

He wanted to drown in her.

And she picked up a sword. Where did she even get that from? We gave it to her. 

“Nyra.” And his every call of her name was a prayer. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“Sorry?” The apology did not have the intended effect. Lightning coursed from her palm to the sword. “How dare you throw your flimsy apologies at me after no contact for months?” 

“I know. Let me-”

“Months. Months! And you think you deserve to be pardoned?” Thunder roared like a chained beast demanding freedom.

“My drafts were not good enough.” 

“I did not want perfection from your letters, I wanted you.” Nyra threw the sword away and looked around for something else to throw at him. “I wanted to know if you were alive, breathing, healthy, and you delivered nothing.” She removed her slipper and aimed for his face. Azriel dodged it in time. 

And she stopped pacing around, stopped picking up things. Nyra simply stopped and Azriel travelled through the shadows in front of her and took her in his arms. 

“You were worried about me?” Azriel asked while praying silently.

Nyra struggled against his grip. “How dare you question that? You absolute-”

“I won’t. I won’t. I swear I won’t.” He hugged her tighter. Nyra began to relax. The shadows gently pried the sword from her hand. 

Azriel picked her up and deposited her on the table. He let go of her but his hands remained on either side of her, supporting himself and cornering her so she wouldn’t escape. 

Azriel leaned forward and brushed their noses against each other. 

A soft feeling came to life. 

The same as what bloomed back when they’d shared a moment before Azriel departed for the High Lords’ Meet two years ago. Before Nyra left Velaris.

The scales began leaning towards balance as Azriel and Nyra breathed against each other. 

Desire renewed itself and buried affections began sprouting. 

Azriel saw her eyelashes and her cheeks glowing golden under the lights. She was breathing heavily after her outburst as she watched her hands play with a strap on his leathers. And he was desperate to meet her gaze. 

He placed his hand on her shoulder and let the thumb graze her collarbone. The hand ascended to her neck and stayed there while his thumb traced her chin and pushed it upward so that she would look at him. Midnight blue greeted him gently. 

“Inconsiderate ass.” She mumbled. The warmth was returning to her and Azriel was relieved. 

The shadows carefully floated over to her and one brave tendril tugged at her finger. She looked at it and turned her hand to show her palm as a sign of her consent. More shadows appeared. The remaining ones slowly brought to her many crumpled papers, all of it raining in the room. 

All the drafts master wrote for you. 

And for the first time, Nyra looked at the shadows in shock. Because she could hear them. 

“These are his drafts?” She slowly looked around her.

Yes, drafts from the very first letter he wrote to you. He thought we threw it away but we saved. . . You can hear us? 

“Yes.” She replied. And she heard them cheering like a little band of children. 

And in the middle of it all stood Azriel, surprised that she could hear them. 

Could you try to speak to us from your mind? That’s how our tactless master communicates with us? They sounded all too eager to talk to Nyra.

Like this? And when Nyra succeeded, they cheered again. She smiled at the dark wisps as they gently pushed her towards the dining table. 

We’ve got cheesecake for you, mistress. And from a pocket of shadows, the cheesecake Azriel had purchased earlier appeared. 

Thank you. She was happy. 

I was the one who bought it. Azriel deadpanned. 

Azriel? Nyra’s voice in his mind had him flustered. 

We apologise on behalf of our master. He can be an idiot at times. The shadows easily intervened. 

Azriel immediately raised his mental shields before contemplating. The mating bond now seemed stronger. Did that have anything to do with Nyra being able to hear the shadows? 

Yes. He’s an idiot. Nyra replied dryly. What have you lot been up to? Surely not brooding by his side. She was utterly happy while addressing the shadows. 

We missed you. Azriel was convinced the bastards were trying to flirt with her. And our master was the only one brooding because he was too afraid to send you letters. 

Your master is an established idiot. 

That he is. The woe to belong to someone as grumpy as he. The shadows had now begun bitching about him, right under his nose. He’s insufferable when he writes letters to you, mistress. His attention to detail is agonising. 

“Why are you troubling them?” She watched him with an easy smile but his gaze had changed. It was heated and all the lightheartedness thawed, making room for something heavier. 

“May I?” His voice was deeper than it usually was and Azriel was obviously looking at her lips. Nyra wanted this. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted this two years ago and even now. How had things not changed?

“Yes.” Her consent was probably the most commemorative thing that had ever happened in his life. Azriel brought his other hand down from her neck which pulled her closer by the hip. 

Their lips were close. Still so close and still not touching. So when Nyra leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss, leaned back, and looked up at him intently, Azriel moved and devoured her.  

Nyra loved his mouth on hers, his hand on the back of her neck. Absolutely enjoyed him taking control and demanding every bit of her. 

Her head leaned back and even further and Azriel grabbed it before it hit the wall. When he moved a little away from her, leaving her gasping after their kiss, Azriel looked like he had every intention to make her moan. 

“What. . .” She rasped, hauling air inside her like he was. 

“Hold on to me.” Because he was not going to accept her grabbing anything other than him—not the table, not the sheets, it had to be him. 

Her hands wrapped themselves around his neck, fingers combing his hair, nails grazing his scalp inducing a soothing sensation. “Good girl.” 

His mouth moved to her jaw and descended to her neck, sucking harshly. She had such supple skin, he never wanted to take his mouth off her. 

“Beautiful.” He looked up at her. She was flushed and breathless. Her hair messier than before, the straps of her gown removed from her shoulder, two purple marks on her neck and collarbone. And the sight of her hurt so deliciously. 

“Tell me I can touch you more.” Azriel was begging now. “Tell me I can undress you.” 

Nyra might’ve fainted right then. Or maybe she wanted him to make her faint. The shadows were too much. Felt too good with their fluttery touches. 

She’d had sex before but . . what was this? This was new. 

Was it because he was her friend? 

Because she already found him attractive? 

Because she’d already been half way in love with him? 

“Yes.” Her hand cupping his jaw moved and she touched his lips with her thumb. Nyra leaned in and kissed him, relishing in the slow start and their passionate progress.

Her skirts were now a bother, forming layers  between them. And her slippers, why were they not off? One of them was stubbornly dangling off her feet. And then she felt the cool touch of the shadows remove her slippers and slide up her legs. 

“Do the shadows. . .” She broke the kiss and looked up at him. “Do they always participate?”

“They are?” He looked dumbfounded. 

“They’re teasing my legs.” 

Azriel spared the dark tendrils a glance, his eyebrows raised. “That’s a first.” He mumbled to himself. 

Nyra did not understand why this new piece of information made her feel special. And she moaned, head leaning back and closing her eyes. They’d pinched her inner thigh. And Azriel eagerly bit her neck. 

Her breathing was already heavy and stuttered. And Nyra wanted to fall, so down. But Azriel squeezed her waist. She opened her eyes to see this beautiful male starving for her, waiting to feast. 

“Bed?” Nyra nodded quickly. He scooped her up, hoping he’d last long enough to give her pleasure. 

It had been quite some time since he last had sex. Nearly fifty two years. Forty nine something years busy worrying about Rhys and plotting to get him back and around two years since the mating bond. 

Restrain me if I’m too rough. Obey her without question or complaint. Because if he was going to do this, he had to ensure a safeguard for her. 

Yes, master. The shadows solemnly vowed. 

This was everything he wanted. Nyra in his arms and his mouth on her. And he would burst because this female was indescribably endearing. Her hand came to his shoulders and then on his chest. 

“Off.” She whispered against his lips. “Take it off.” 

Azriel tapped a siphon and the leathers on his upper body dematerialised. He removed his siphon-attached gloves and let the shadows set them down. He felt his boots unbuckle as the shadows helped him out of it. 

Nyra felt the cotton of her sheets on her palms as she was set down by the side of the bed. Azriel leaned back and stood straight. Impatient at his own shadows for taking long, he yanked the boots from his legs and threw them away. 

Meanwhile, Nyra gathered her hair and brought it forward from one side. The shadows immediately swarmed over to unzip the dress and pulled it down, helping her out of it. 

Azriel felt tortured at heaven’s doorstep. Nyra in black made him want to kneel. 

His hands went to his belt and unbuckled it with speed and ease. Unbuttoning his pants and letting the shadows pull them down immediately while he moved closer. His undershorts remained. 

“Are you sure?” He placed a hand on her cheek. 

Nyra was looking at him, his body. She placed a hand on his chest, on the scar left behind by Jurian’s spear. A reminder of the day her sisters were Made into fae. She stood up and kissed the scar. 

She looked up at him coyly. “Do I need to write a letter that you might not answer?” 

Azriel raised his hand to the back of her throat and ascended to tangle his fingers on her hair. Azriel pulled her soft, thick hair and her gasps were beautiful. 

“I’ll write you as many letters as you want. For now, I’d show you all that cannot be written.” 

Nyra smiled, amused at that. “There are smutty books. Many things are written in those.” 

Azriel smiled faintly. “Not for us.” He kissed her ear. “We’re real.” He whispered. 

Nyra’s knees weakened. And she sat on the bed as if she’d been dropped. And Azriel was on his knees, parting her legs. 

She leaned back, supporting her body with her elbows and watched his kiss and lick and suck her thighs. 

She felt herself become more sensitive as each second passed. Her back felt the cold of the sheets. Goosebumps were all over her hands and upper body. Her legs were warm and wherever Azriel placed his mouth, Nyra felt heat. 

And she could feel her damp underwear sticking to her. “Stop teasing.” 

“Patience is a virtue.” He was so close. He kissed her inner thigh. Azriel had half a mind to rest his head against that incredibly soft thigh. Maybe he’d finally get some good sleep. 

“I’m not feeling particularly virtuous right now.” To know that she desired him brought him peace and then his own desire rattled that peace.

“As if I’m any better.” Azriel chuckled faintly. And he bit her inner thigh once, pulled the fabric of her underwear aside and licked. 

Nyra wanted to breathe. She really did. But Azriel was gently licking her as if he were savouring her taste. It was the first time but she would probably cry or scream if he kept on teasing her anymore. 

Heat filled her as she met his gaze. Breathing had become a legitimate task because she couldn’t seem to do it unconsciously.

His hands which remained on her inner thighs moved. He now held her thighs from below and lifted it. With no difficulty, he’d placed her legs on his shoulders. 

The shadows snipped her panties and disposed of it, leaving behind their cool touch. And Azriel whispered. “Lie down, Nyra. And take all of me.”

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @impossibelle @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @judig92 @bunnyredgirl @sh4nn @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kattzillaa @ronnieglennn @wallacewillow0773638 @forgiveliv @justdreamstars @donttellthecats @cat-or-kitten @jojodojo02 @wandas-dream @evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @hanitastic @sevikas-whore @krowiathemythologynerd @myladysapphire @freyagallileaevans @azrielrot @rcarbo1 @i-am-infinite @latinxbipride @moni-cah @fantanbietsson @julsgrace @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @byunniebaekhyunnie @fhgsvbnh @halo-mystic

[luvismenu]

Only When It's Us — JJK ,, index ,, about taglist

Chapter 02 — distraction ✎

fic summary: you both say it’s nothing serious, but with every touch and argument, it gets harder to stay away.

nsfw warnings: smut; lots of kissing, lots of touching lol, oral (male recieving, fem too? kinda), sucking fingers, doggy style, unprotected sex (shes using birth control so yep, be safe!) use of ‘good girl’

wc: 6k

📜 permanent taglist: @lovieku @kyuupii @fluttershypoo @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @mar-lo-pap @jungkooks-wife @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @leemonis-blog

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @sweetmimosa28

abt series taglist: send me an ask w the series title !!

“i have to go.”

“why don’t you just come back home? you can start over, and this time, maybe you’ll be more like your brother.”

you sigh.

“mom, i don’t want to be him,” you say quietly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. on the other end, you hear her let out a soft, disapproving tsk, a sound that always manages to make you feel a little smaller.

“aren’t you clearly struggling with school? if you were here with us, with your brother, we’d help you. you’d be fine,” she insists, as if coming home would magically fix everything.

you roll your eyes.

“i really have to go.”

“___, just listen to—”

but before she can finish, you end the call, staring at the blank screen for a moment.

there’s an unsettling feeling in your chest, one that refuses to fade, no matter how much you try to brush it off. its like a quiet reminder of all the things you’re trying to avoid.

go back home?

after everything you’ve been through to study what you want, to finally live on your own terms. every argument, every latenight fight with your parents, all just to claim a bit of freedom.

you worked so hard to break free from their expectations, to stand on your own.

you even transferred universities just to escape the constant pressure back in your hometown. no matter what you did, it was never enough. every choice was somehow wrong, not ‘their way.’

you can’t go back now.

not until you’ve made it, not until you have something real to prove them wrong. you have to be successful, if only to show them that your way was the right way all along.

“hey, are you done thinking? never seen anyone contemplate cheerios this hard.”

min yoongi’s low voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you look up, finding him behind the cash register, his lips curving into a small smile.

“just wondering if i can actually trust your store’s products. what if you are some sort of cheerio secret agent and you're trying to poison me?” you joke, handing him the money.

“oh no, you figured it out. we’ve been poisoning the cheerios. now how am i gonna explain to my boss that our mission failed?” he dramatically placesb a hand on his forehead as if you revealed his deepest darkest secret. you can’t help but chuckle, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit.

“bad day?” he asks, his gaze softening a bit as he opens the cash register.

min yoongi; your friend.

well, he's more like your senior. he graduated last year and he is working parttime at this convenience store cuz he thinks in this way he could spend some time outside.

you didn't question him about it any further.

you don’t usually come here unless it’s an emergency, and breakfast for tomorrow qualifies as pretty urgent, or so you tell yourself.

“something like that,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nods slightly. “well,” he begins, “i’m sorry i can’t give you a discount,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood.

you chuckle, the corners of your mouth lifting. “aw, that’s too bad. i thought i might get these cheerios for free.”

he smiles softly, “maybe some other time,"

you smile back at yoongi and turn to leave. but then you almost bump your head against a man’s chest, stumbling back in surprise.

that was close.

you look up to apologize, but your words get caught in your throat as you take in his appearance.

he’s handsome.

no, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. his face is sculpted to perfection, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. his dark eyes seem to pierce right through you, and his long, dark hair falls effortlessly over his forehead.

but there’s something else,

he looks... mad?

you quickly gather yourself, your cheeks warming slightly. “sorry,” you blurt out, stepping aside to let him pass.

as you walk out of the store, you catch a snippet of conversation behind you.

“are you still upset about her, jungkook?” yoongi’s voice carries just enough for you to hear.

you try to shake it off, not wanting to dwell on whatever is unfolding behind you. it’s not your business, after all.

you step outside, the cool air hitting your face as you leave the store, and try to focus on the tasks ahead of you.

“it doesn’t make any sense, hyung,” jungkook scoffs, the frustration bubbling up inside him.

“when did she ever make sense?” yoongi replies dryly, not backing down as he meets jungkook’s glare. the tension in the air feels thick, but yoongi isn’t afraid to speak his mind.

“from my point of view, you’re now a free man. free from all the bullshit you’ve been through,” yoongi explains, hoping to lift jungkook’s spirits.

“what bullshit? i was happy. we were happy,” jungkook frowns, his confusion evident. he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, struggling to comprehend yoongi’s words.

“that’s what she wanted you to think,” yoongi replies, his tone serious. “and to be honest, that’s what you always did. you did whatever she wanted. you changed for her.”

“i loved her,” jungkook insists, his voice a bit softer but still filled with conviction, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

“did you? really?” yoongi presses, searching jungkook’s eyes for any hint of doubt. he knows this is a tough conversation, but it needs to be talked out.

jungkook looks away and mutters. “you don’t get it,”

yoongi’s expression softens. he presses his lips together as he looks at jungkook, feeling bad for him. “i’m sorry, jungkook. but you really have to let it go now. it’s been two weeks. it’s time to start moving on.”

jungkook stays silent.

instead of responding, he reaches for a lollipop displayed near the cash register, the bright colors contrasting sharply with his gloomy mood. he hands yoongi some money, more than what the lollipop costs, as if he’s paying for more than just candy.

“do you want the change, or can i keep it as a tip for my great service slash friendship?” yoongi tries to lighten the mood, hoping to bring a smile to jungkook’s face.

and it does.

jungkook’s lips curl into a faint smile, a small but genuine response. “keep it,” he says softly.

as jungkook turns to leave, yoongi watches him go, feeling sad for his friend.

“bad day indeed.”

you're sat on a bench in the park near the convenience store, lost in your own thoughts. the quiet sounds of the evening settle around you, the faint rustle of leaves, the distant hum of traffic, and your own sighs mingling with the cool air.

you’re not really thinking about anything in particular, just letting your mind wander in that aimless way it does when everything feels overwhelming.

then, a loud voice cuts through your thoughts.

“no, i know you're hiding something from me!” someone snaps, his voice taut with irritation. “fine! have it your way then.”

curious, you glance over and recognize him immediately; the same man from earlier at the store, the one you’d nearly bumped into.

he’s pacing as he talks on his phone, one hand running through his dark hair in exasperation. his jaw is clenched, his brows furrowed, and you can practically feel the tension radiating off him even from a distance.

after a moment, he ends the call with an aggravated sigh, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he makes his way into the park, still visibly upset. he barely notices his surroundings as he walks closer to where you’re sitting.

he sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, muttering something under his breath as if willing the frustration to melt away. you can’t help but stare a little, like an idiot.

then his eyes snap open and land directly on you.

“got a problem with me?” his voice is sharp, cutting through the silence between you.

you blink, startled, and stand up instinctively. “excuse me?”

he turns fully to face you, his eyes never leaving yours. “i asked, you got a problem with me?”

“no.” you shake your head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“good.”

wow. nice attitude.

just as you’re about to walk away, he calls out again.

“never seen you around here before.”

“pardon?” you turn back, surprised.

“you’re yoongi's friend, right?” he asks,

you cross your arms, giving him a wary look. “why do you care?”

he shrugs, almost nonchalant. “my bad, just curious. never seen yoongi smile at a normal customer before, so i assumed.”

“oh,” you reply, softening just a bit. “well, i guess you could say we're friends.”

he raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you guess?”

you offer a small shrug of your own. “he used to help me when i was still a freshman, and he still tries to whenever he can. i'd say he's like my teacher, in a way. it’s not like we hang out or anything, though.”

he tilts his head, considering your words. “well, consider yourselves friends. trust me, he doesn’t just help anyone.”

you narrow your eyes slightly, still wary. “and who are you, exactly?”

“jeon jungkook,” he says, extending a hand with a surprisingly polite nod. instinctively, you reach out and shake it, his grip firm. “since you're yoongi's friend, i think we go to the same university. though this is the first time i’m seeing you.”

“same, i am ___,” you pull your hand back.

“what are you doing here, in the middle of the night? didn’t your parents ever tell you not to go out alone?” he asks, the way he talks is somewhere between teasing and serious. you can't quiet get what it is but something about it grates on your nerves, like he's playing at being concerned but in a way that feels almost mocking.

“i could ask you the same thing,” you shoot back, meeting his gaze head on.

he doesn’t flinch, only tilts his head slightly. “i always come here,” he says, his voice calm, almost like a matterof fact.

“same,” you respond. “during the day.”

he quirks a brow, “so why are you in my night shift?”

you scoff, a laugh slipping out before you can stop it. “this isn’t your place or ‘shift,’ you know."

“well, you come here during the day; i come here at night. sounds like shifts to me,” he says with a shrug, and you catch the playfulness on his face.

“guess i’m overtiming, then,” you say, glancing away to hide your own smirk. “don’t mind me.”

he stays silent.

“you’ve got your own shit to deal with, huh?” he says, his voice breaking the quiet.

“why are you talking to me?” you blurt out, catching him a little off guard. “i mean, you don’t even know me.”

he raises an eyebrow, unphased. “i could ask you the same thing,” he replies, mimicking your answer from before.

you narrow your eyes, folding your arms. “i don’t think i want to talk about my problems with a random stranger.”

“problems…” he echoes, looking you up and down like he’s trying to figure you out. “let me guess. got into a fight with your boyfriend?”

“no,” you say quickly, rolling your eyes. “i don’t have one.” for a second, you think you catch a flicker of surprise on his face. “what about you? girlfriend mad at you?”

his face shifts, something almost vulnerable passing over his features before he looks away. “guess you could say that,” he mutters. “since she broke things off with me.”

a silence stretches between you two.

“i’m… sorry to hear that,” you finally say, feeling the awkwardness settle around you.

you didn't expect that.

honestly, the idea of someone like him getting dumped hadn’t even crossed your mind. a guy who looks like that—that intense aura—doesn’t exactly seem like the type to get left behind.

you assumed he’d be the one calling the shots, the one walking away. but here he is, single and clearly dealing with the aftermath of something that’s weighing on him. its surprising.

a thought crosses yourmind.

if someone could leave him, someone who had a place in his life and a claim to his heart, maybe he’s not as perfect as he seems on the outside. maybe there’s something beneath the surface, something that’s harder to deal with than his looks would suggest.

it’s like a puzzle you didn’t even mean to start solving, yet here you are, wondering if there’s more to him than just that handsome face.

but then you shake the thought away. he’s a stranger. a random guy you happened to bump into, quite literally, at a park in the middle of the night. it’s not like you’ll see him again after tonight. or, at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

because, really, why should you care?

whatever his story is, it’s none of your business.

“anyway, hope you figure your problems out.” he says, his gaze flickering away as if he’s eager to dodge any deeper conversation.

“likewise,” you reply.

without warning, he pulls a lollipop from his pocket, holding it out to you. “here,” he says, waiting for you to take it.

you reach out slowly, raising an eyebrow. “thanks?”

he smirks, “again, did your parents never tell you not to take candy from strangers?”

“maybe i like to be a little rebellious,” you say, smirking back at him and he shakes his head smiling.

“well, go ahead, eat it. i don’t want you tossing it away. i spent a lot on that sucker,” he says, a playful grin spreading across his face. despite the oddness of the moment, a corner of your mouth quirks up.

you unwrap the lollipop, examining it with a critical eye before giving him a look that says it all.

he catches it, tilting his head in curiosity. “what?”

“i don’t think i like raspberry flavor,” you admit, holding the lollipop up like a trophy of sorts.

he squints at you, “you’ve never tasted one before?”

you shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “i don’t like raspberries, so i’m guessing this is more of the same.”

he shakes his head, lips twitching into a smirk. “that’s pretty bold, making assumptions without even trying it.”

“just give it a taste; maybe you'll like it,” he suggests, a teasing smile forming on his lips, clearly wanting you to try it. deep down, he doesn't even like raspberry flavor; he just picked it out randomly at the store.

“uh, no thanks. i don’t want that nasty taste on my tongue,” you reply, scrunching your nose a little . “but thanks, you could have—”

your words are abruptly cut off as he grabs your hand, the lollipop still held tightly between your fingers. in one swift motion, he leans in, wrapping his mouth around it. his tongue swirls around the candy, and then he pulls it out, his lips glistening with a reddish-pink hue that matches the flavor.

you're completely taken aback, eyes widening in shock.

oh what the fuck.

“yeah, you’re right. it does taste nasty,” he says, licking his lips as he releases your hand. “give it to me, i'll just throw it away or something”

suddenly, the lollipop feels trivial compared to what he just did. you stand there, completely speechless, your mind and heart racing as you try to process what jus happened.

“what?” he stares at you.

“you’re good with your tongue,” you say, the words slipping out before you can really think them through.

he pauses, his eyes widening for a second, and he chokes on nothing, almost like he’s been caught off guard mid-breath. “uh, what?” he finally manages, blinking rapidly.

realizing how that might’ve sounded, “i just meant... the lollipop. you seemed pretty skilled with it,” you clarify, though you’re aware it’s not really helping.

what are you even trying to say?

he looks at you, a smirk playing on his lips now. “uh-huh, sure,” he says, teasing you. “that’s what you meant.”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “don’t flatter yourself, i was just making an observation.”

but the way he’s looking at you now, dark eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place, makes it hard to pretend that slip of the tongue didn’t mean more than you intended.

“so, do you want to suck on it?”

“huh?” you blink.

suck on what now?

“the lollipop” he clarifies, a small smile playing on his lips.

oh.

you clear your throat, fighting to keep a neutral expression. “no, definitely not, especially now that you had your tongue all over it.” you try to scrunch your nose, but any attempt at showing disgust falls flat with the heat rising in your cheeks.

“alright then, just asking if you changed your mind,” he shrugs, still holding your gaze.

“i still don’t want it,” you say quickly, trying to sound convincing.

“okay.” he blinks, unfazed.

“okay,” you repeat, awkwardly.

he gestures to the lollipop still in your hand. “uh, so… are you gonna keep holding it?”

you glance down, pulling your hand back. “i’m gonna throw it away,” you declare, though it feels a bit ridiculous now, given everything that just happened.

“i hope so,” he says, one side of his lips quirking up.

why do you kind of like his smile?

you try to shake your thought off, tossing the lollipop into a nearby trash can, trying to act as casual as possible.

“well, guess that's the end of that,” you say, hoping to sound nonchalant. he nods as he crosses his arms.

you raise an eyebrow, mimicking his stance. “do you usually hand out half-eaten lollipops to strangers?”

he laughs, low and soft, the sound surprisingly warm in the quiet night. “only when they look like they need a little distraction.”

you tilt your head. “oh? and what made you think i needed one?”

his eyes meet yours, his expression softening. “just a hunch,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur. “we all got stuff we’d rather not think about, right?”

a pause.

there’s something unspoken between you two, a quiet understanding in the way you hold each other’s gaze.

he's right.

you are stressing about things you'd rather not think about, things that seem to cling to your mind no matter how hard you try to push them away.

and then there's him, a stranger but somehow not, going through his own mess. you can see it in his tired eyes, the way he keeps looking off into the distance as if trying to shake off whatever weight he's carrying.

you realize you don’t mind it; you don’t mind his company, or even the strange comfort of this shared silence.

both of you are here, each trying to forget whatever it is that’s eating at you. maybe that’s why this moment feels so easy.

”yeah,” you finally say, “guess we do.”

“i gotta go now,” you announce, hoping to put an end to whatever weird tension is building between the two of you.

he doesn't say anything. no goodbyes, no attempts to stop you. so you turn and start walking away, trying to shake off whatever just happened.

but before you can take more than a few steps, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist. you stop, surprised, and turn back to face him. his grip isn’t tight, but it’s firm enough to make you pause.

you meet his gaze, and there's something in his eyes—something intense, something that makes your stomach flip.

“would you like a distraction?” he asks, voice low, almost like a whisper meant just for you.

you blink, not sure if you heard him right. “what?” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

instead of answering, he tugs you gently closer. your body stumbles forward, and your hands land on his chest to steady yourself. his heartbeat is strong under your palm, and suddenly, everything feels too close, too intense.

he looks down at you, his eyes flickering over your face like he’s searching for something. “i think i do,” he mutters. “don’t you?”

your mind is racing, trying to make sense of this.

is he asking what you think he’s asking?

he’s a stranger. someone you barely know beyond a couple of conversations and an awkward encounter in a convenience store.

yet there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it hard to think straight.

“yes,” you hear yourself say before you can even process it.

his lips curve into a satisfied smile, and without another word, he leans in and kisses you.

the world seems to stop as his mouth meets yours. it’s not hesitant or soft; it’s urgent, as if he’s been wanting this for longer than the short time you’ve known him. his hands slide up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.

your fingers clutch his shirt, feeling the heat of his body against yours. it’s messy and impulsive, and he doesn't even care that you’re both in the middle of a park, under the dim glow of the streetlights.

right now, all you can think about is him. the way he tastes, the way he kisses you desperately.

maybe you do need this distraction.

his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, letting the kiss deepen. his lips are soft, and you moan as if you're melting into the kiss. there's something about the way his mouth moves against yours; like he's been waiting to do this.

“wait—” you pant as pull back, your heart pounding against your ribs, trying to gather your thoughts. he looks into your eyes, his brows furrowing slightly as he asks in a low voice, “what happened?”

“we're... we're outside,” you point out, glancing around.

he tilts his head, his brows raising slightly as if that’s the least of his concerns. “so?” his voice is low and almost teasing, like he finds your hesitation cute.

you let out a scoffing laugh, “what do you mean so?wee’re literally in a children’s park.” you gesture to the swings and slides nearby, deserted at this hour but still... it’s a public space.

he pauses for a second, “my car’s parked just over there,” he nods towards a sleek vehicle at the edge of the park, his lips curling into a smile. “we could, uh... relocate or—”

before you can even process that, your curiosity gets the better of you. “wait— you have a car?” you cut in, a little surprised.

he chuckles. “yeah, and it’s a pretty one at that.” there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s enjoying this back-and-forth with you, like it’s some sort of game.

you sigh, still trying to wrap your head around the craziness of this entire situation. “okay,” you murmur, almost to yourself, deciding to just go with it. what’s the worst that could happen?

he releases his grip on you, but only so he can grab your hand and guide you towards the car. the walk feels a little awkward now, a heavy tension hanging in the air. you're not sure what to say.

what’s the protocol for walking towards a car with a guy you’re about to hook up with?

as if sensing your nerves, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “come on, my car’s comfy. don’t worry,” he says with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. the way he’s holding your hand... it’s surprisingly tender, making it feel just a little less awkward.

when you reach the car, he opens the back seat door for you. you hesitate for a second, “you won’t, like, kidnap me or something, right?” you half-joke.

he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “for someone who’s so aware of the things you shouldn’t be doing, you sure do them anyway,” he teases. his words send a shiver down your spine, both a warning and an invitation.

but you ignore that nagging voice in the back of your mind. instead, you climb into the seat and he follows you right away.

“why are you—” your words are cut off as he crashes his lips against yours, the urgency in his kiss making you lose your breath. one of his hands grips your waist, pulling you against him, while the other tangles in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head for better access.

the way his lips move against yours, hot and hungry, sends sparks shooting down your spine, and before you know it, you're moaning into his mouth, matching his intensity. your hands scramble to find something to hold onto, eventually locking behind his neck as if he's your lifeline.

“are we seriously gonna fuck in your car?” you gasp, your words shaky when he pulls away just enough to start trailing hot kisses down the side of your neck. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, drawing him closer.

“no,” he breathes and sucks on a sensitive spot just beneath your ear, his teeth grazing the skin before he soothes it with a slow lick. “just couldn’t stop myself,” he admits, voice low and breathy, and then his mouth is back on yours, devouring you with a hunger that makes your head spin.

your hands move restlessly over his broad shoulders, wanting to feel more, wishing his clothes were gone so you could touch him everywhere.

his hands roam your body like he's memorizing it, fingers pressing into the curves of your waist, teasingly brushing against your chest. each touch has you arching into him, wishing he'd just tear your clothes apart already.

it's all too good.

too overwhelming, and before you know it, five minutes have passed with the two of you tangled in each other. when he finally pulls back, panting, his lips are swollen and glistening. your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to catch your breath, both of you staring at each other in the dim light of the car.

he’s leaning back slightly, his hard on pressing against your thigh. it’s impossible not to notice how turned on he is, and it only makes your own arousal spike.

you're so fucking wet right now.

you’re laid back on the seat, eyes locked on him, watching the way he runs a hand through his disheveled hair, pushing it back revealing his forehead.

“hotel? or my place?” he asks, trying to catch his breath “hotel’s just a minute away, but my place… well, it’s a bit further.”

you can practically see the options laid out in your mind like a checklist.

a) go to the hotel, have your fun, and slip away without looking back. no strings, no regrets. just a quick fuck and disappear like it never happened.

b) go to his place, let him fuck the shit out of you, see if he’s worth all this heat between your thighs. maybe wake up in his bed with his arms still wrapped around you... and if he's good enough, maybe get his number so it doesn’t have to be a one time thing.

you bite your lip, your decision already made before you even realize it.

“yours.”

the drive to his apartment is quick, the tension between you both barely held back. you're glad it’s late at night, because the two of you can’t seem to keep your hands off each other and you don't want anyone witnessing it.

the second you step into his apartment, the door slams shut behind you, and it's a scramble to rid each other of clothing. shirts are yanked off, belts undone, pants shoved down until you're both stumbling towards his bedroom in a mess of heated kisses and needy touches.

“o-oh fuck—yes baby, suck it just like that,” jungkook throws his head back, moaning, his breath ragged. he’s sprawled on the bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets. you're on your knees between his thighs, sucking him hard, your lips stretching around his thick length.

you glance up at him, eyes half lidded, watching the way his abs flex as he tries to keep himself steady. “shit... you look so fucking hot,” he rasps out, voice rough. his gaze darkens, and he pushes himself up, one hand threading through your hair.

“can you take it, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

you know exactly what he’s asking. you nod, barely managing it with your mouth full, and he smiles, almost wickedly, his eyes gleaming.

“good,” he murmurs, his grip tightening just enough on your hair. “tap me if it’s too much.” and with that, he starts moving his hips, fucking into your mouth with slow, deep thrusts.

you gag slightly as he pushes deeper, but you relax your throat, trying to take him in. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of him moving in and out, his groans echoing off the walls.

“fuck—you’re taking me so well, baby,” he praises, his voice thick and raspy, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. each time his cock hits the back of your throat, it forces a choked gasp from him, his hands instinctively tightening in your hair.

your eyes water, tears pooling at your lashes, but you don’t stop, even as your throat aches. your nails dig into his firm thighs, using them for balance as he fucks your throat. you want to show him just how much you can handle.

“i’m gonna—” he grunts, voice rough and strained. a hot burst of his release fills your mouth, and you swallow it all, not breaking eye contact with him for a second. his chest heaves as he watches you, mesmerized, as your tongue slides slowly along his length, cleaning up every drop. his jaw clenches, the sight clearly driving him wild.

“get up,” he orders, voice still a little breathless, and you obey instantly, letting him pull you to your feet. “on the bed, all fours.”

you get onto the mattress, positioning yourself as he asked. there's a moment of stillness as you feel his gaze roam over your exposed body. your heart races, anticipation building as you wait for his next move.

“you’re dripping,” he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath is hot against your soaked core. he licks a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds, and your eyes flutter shut, a soft, breathy moan escaping your lips. his mouth envelops your pussy, sucking and licking with an rhythm that makes your thighs tremble.

he pulls back just enough to catch his breath before moving up, positioning himself between your legs. his right hand trails upward, skimming over your skin until his fingers brush against your lips.

instinctively, you part them, taking his fingers into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them. the low chuckle that escapes him tells you just how much he enjoys it.

“you like that, hm?” he asks. you moan softly around his fingers, your response muffled but desperate.

he withdraws his fingers, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. leaning down, he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly until your back is against his chest. you can feel his length pressing against your ass, you move your hips a little causing a little friction.

his hands slide over your breasts, kneading them with just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.

you melt into his touch, your head lolling back against his shoulder as his fingers pinch and roll your hardened nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

“want me to fuck you, baby?” his voice is soft against your shoulder as he places feather light kisses along your skin. he nips gently, his hands never stopping their teasing, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes when his fingers pinch just a bit harder.

“y-yes,” you mewl, voice shaky with need, “fuck me, jungkook.”

he squeezes your breasts harder, a groan rumbling from his chest as he sinks his teeth lightly into the curve of your shoulder.

“yeah? can i fuck you raw?” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

“yes,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a whimper. “p-please.”

his grip on you loosens slightly, and he leans back to look at you, his eyes dark, like he's stopping himself. “you sure?” he asks, one last time, his tone gentle but urgent.

you nod quickly, breathless. “i’m on the pill,” you assure him, and the tension in his shoulders eases.

“fuck. okay, bend over.”

without hesitation, you resume your previous position, arching your back and presenting yourself to him. he groans softly at the sight, his hand sliding down to rub slow circles over your entrance.

he teases you, slipping a finger inside, making you moan softly as your walls flutter around him. he withdraws his finger, watching the way you clench around nothing, desperate for more.

grabbing his cock, he taps the swollen tip against your slick hole. you whine, impatience leaking into your voice, “just fuck me already.”

a smirk curves his lips, and without another word, he pushes into you.

you grip the sheets tightly as you take him in fully, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length. a choked gasp escapes your lips, eyes squeezing shut at the delicious burn that quickly morphs into pleasure.

each inch fills you so completely, leaving you breathless, your body trembling at the feeling.

“fuck,” he groans behind you, his voice low and rough, a sound that makes your toes curl. “you’re so tight, baby... taking me so fucking good.” the words are almost a growl, filled with barely restrained control as he fights the urge to pound into you.

his hands move to your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave marks, steadying himself as he sinks even deeper.

your moans spill freely now, raw and needy, muffled slightly by the pillow you bury your face into. he starts to move, slowly at first, pulling out just enough before thrusting back in, his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside you.

the rhythm is torturously slow, each stroke making you whimper, your back arching even further in a silent plea for more.

“please... more,” you manage to gasp out, your voice shaky. “jungkook, i need it.. need you.”

“yeah?” he rasps, picking up the pace, thrusts becoming sharper, each one driving you into the mattress. “want it harder, baby? want me to ruin you?”

“yes.. yes mmph- more!” you cry, your voice breaking as he slams into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. your nails claw at the sheets, the friction of his hips against your ass making stars dance behind your eyelids.

his fingers snake around to your front, finding your swollen clit, and he rubs it in tight, quick circles. your entire body jolts, your hips bucking back against him as you let out a loud, broken moan.

“oh, fuck, that’s it, that's a good fucking girl,” he hisses, feeling you clench around him, your walls fluttering as you near the edge.

“you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he growls against your ear, bending over you now, his hot breath fanning against your neck. he bites down on your shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to drive you wild.

“you're gonna cum like the good girl you are?”

“yes n-ngh.. i’m close.. s-so close,” you whimper, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. his fingers press harder against your clit, his thrusts turning frantic.

“cum with me, baby” he demands, his voice thick and commanding. that’s all it takes. your body shatters. your vision going white as you scream his name. your walls squeeze him so tightly, milking his cock, and with a deep, guttural groan, he loses himself too, spilling inside you as his thrusts grow sloppy.

he stays buried inside you, his chest heaving against your back, both of you panting heavily. he leans down to press soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder.

after everything that just happened. you've made up your mind.

you're definitely going to ask for his number.

a/n: erm.. don't get into random strangers cars !! haha

[missfrustration]

a scholar's secret (nanami kento x reader 18+)

rating: explicit 18+, minors do not interact!

tags: pwp, nsfw, smut, rough oral sex, vaginal sex, college/university au, teacher/student relationship, face-fucking, marking, semi-public sex, desk sex, mildly dubious consent, suit kink, light bondage, accidental voyeurism, no use of y/n

A/n: 🎵THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDERRR🎵 who likes the men in suits kink?? THIS QUEEN. on ao3 here!

word count: 5.3k (too long)

------

“Don’t call me by that name; that’s extremely disrespectful, young lady. I am your senior, and you will address me as such.”

“I’ll do whatever I want, Nanami .” You cross your arms, looking at your professor sitting at his desk across the room. 

Today, he asked you to stay after school for remedial lessons. You’ve been failing his class recently, which he doesn’t take lightly. You couldn’t give less of a shit, however, since It isn’t the class you’re bothered about; it’s him.

Nanami Kento is the one who’s constantly been on your mind. You can't deny your attraction toward your English professor even when you're almost a decade younger than him, but your current situation makes your feelings impossible to hide.

“Do you want to stay in this program or not? If you keep skipping my classes, the school will drop you out.” He points at you with a pen in hand. 

“Do you even want me to stay? You could kick me out yourself if I’m such a burden.” You sit on the student desk closest to Nanami, crossing your legs. Nanami clicks his tongue at the action, now looking at you up and down.

“Yes, I want all of my students to stay and pass. And that includes you, too.” He shifts to rest his head on his palm. “You’re intelligent enough to pass this class with flying colors, so why don’t you try?”

“Why don’t I ? You don’t take me seriously! Do you think I should give a shit-”

Nanami calls your name, cutting you off, “Watch your language. Now . I will not tolerate this disobedience in my classroom.” 

He’s not playing around anymore, but that annoyed look of his as he lazily puts his chin on his palm pisses you off more. You kick off the table, back onto the carpeted floor, and pace behind his desk. He keeps eye contact with you without swiveling his head, watching your every move with indifference. 

“Or what ? Gonna fucking kick me out? Seems like the right course of action, considering I’m just some bitch you couldn’t care less about.” You spit out.

He slowly turns to you, raising his head from his hands, which causes you to back down. “Hey,” Nanami starts getting up to face you entirely, “I said language. Watch yourself, young lady. ” 

You’ve had about enough of this. If this is how it’s gonna be, you didn’t even care about winning his affection anymore. You just need to say what’s on your mind. You’re probably going to get kicked off the roster either way.

You look at him and lower your voice as you step closer. “I know that you know, Nanami.”

He raises his eyebrow as you continue. 

“I can’t keep taking your class if you silently reject me. If you treated me like a nobody, maybe it would be better. Instead, you have me stay after class doing stupid lessons like that will change anything.”

You pause for a minute, feeling the back of your eyes water and a cry come to your throat. You feel so frustrated with him right now but crying would make things so much worse. You continue with your head down, putting an extended emphasis on your words to quell your emotions. “It’s… torture for me. I can’t keep seeing your face in class anymore.”

You raise your head to see the man standing in front of you. He gets up from his chair and crosses his arms.

Nanami closes his eyes and gives a long sigh. “Okay. I’m sorry. I thought this would be helpful for you given the situation, but now I realize I was mistaken.”

He ends his sentence, looking back at you silently for a reply. You stare at him, growing more furious the longer he doesn’t say anything else. 

“Wow, I can’t believe you. That’s all you have to say to me, asshole?” You spit out.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Stop spouting that unpleasant language.”

“Oh, yeah? Make me then, Nanami .” You raise your hand to point at him. Before you could, Nanami grabbed your hand and gripped it. Hard. You try to free yourself, but your teacher won’t let go. 

“Hey, get off!”

“No.”

“This is extremely unprofessional of you.”

Nanami cocks his head and twists your wrist, which plagues your discomfort, “Huh. I could say the same for you, young lady. Watch your mouth.”

You try to free your wrist again and again. To no avail, it only makes his grip tighten. Your tears have dissipated, leaving behind the pent-up rage you’ve built from this man. 

“Just. Let. Me. Leave!”

“No can do.”

You start to turn away. With your back facing him, you try to free your wrist still grabbed by your professor. With each tug to break free, you spit out the vulgarity, “Ugh, you’re an asshole. An idiot. A moron. Shitbag. Useless profess-”

You feel a harsh tug on your wrist as you whirl around. You feel dazed and confused, letting out a small yelp that is silenced by his lips clashing against yours and rough hands falling on your waist. Against your lips, Nanami mutters.

“You brat.” 

As your back falls against Nanami’s desk, you lean forward to deepen the kiss, earning a growl from him. Nanami’s scent instantly infiltrated your nose, a nutty musk and vanilla that fit him perfectly. His grip gets harsher when he feels you comply with his touch and your bodies close as you take your pent-up frustrations on each other.  You dig your nails through the roots of his hair. He grabs your waist with need, cutting your thighs onto the rigid wood, which causes you to squeak in surprise. 

You think Nanami has finally snapped out of his hypnosis when he slowly separates himself from you with a sour look. He shakes his head with a lingering sigh, tapping a finger to your forehead.

“I thought you would’ve learned to keep your mouth shut, but I can see you didn’t get that through that pretty little head.”

“I’m curious to hear what else you expect me to learn when you want to shut me up like this .”

He brushes his hair back as he looks you up and down, taking down your body in a generous display that makes your face heat up. Your thin bra and shirt revealed the protusion of your nipples, and those tight, low-rise jeans showed enough midriff to be noticeable. He bluntly ignores your comment, and you can tell by his knit brows and darting eyes that he’s entirely in his thoughts.

“Dammit, you pesky girl, if I keep going, I’ll be in huge trouble.”

You are dumbfounded at this turn of events. As Nanami hints, separating your bodies to stop this very inappropriate advance would be the best course of action, yet your limbs are still entangled; you don’t push yourself off the desk, and your faces stay tapered to the intimate space. You see his lips pursed and his temples relaxed. The chisel of his jaw was somehow sharper in your proximity, now making him look more irresistible. 

“I can keep a secret.” You say.

Desperation takes over as you brush past his tie, feeling the tight muscles that hold shape under his pressed suit. You bawl your fists tightly onto Nanami’s fitted suit jacket before diving your lips to his. Now you were the hungry one. Nanami matches your pace, promptly leading the kiss as he presses into your body.

“We are so fucked if we get caught, huh?” You can’t keep a smile off your face against his lips, reveling in the fact that Nanami’s whole career is on the line—all because of you.

“Obviously.”

“I don’t see what you’re trying to do then. Lose your job?” 

Nanami clicks his tongue at the sudden cockiness you’ve shown, tilting your face up to meet his gaze and smushing your cheeks between the pads of his fingers. You note that his hands are unusually soft.

“I’m trying to shut up that filthy mouth of yours.” 

His brows are furrowed, almost angry at you for making him say the things he seems desperate to conceal. You could care less if he’s agitated; he has you so worked up that your feelings are in a daze–well, except for the feeling that makes you want to moan against the stiffened fingers that clutch your skin.

“Do whatever you want to me.”

He lifts you onto his desk, pushing past a stack of papers. It didn’t matter that the last essay for your class cascaded on the floor at that moment. What did matter was the way Nanami’s hands laid on your button-up blouse, pulling it apart so rough the plastic buttons flew off your shirt, clattering across the floor. You moan erotically before Nanami’s large hand clamps on your mouth, muffling you.

“ Ah, ah. We don’t need anyone hearing that,” Nanami says, his hand unfastening from your lips yet idles in the air. “Obey this one thing, at least.”

“What if I don’t want to?” 

“Then, I’ll teach you an outstanding lesson while we’re at it.” Nanami pulls his tie off cleanly, leaving the collar slack from his broad neck. He slips his suit jacket off with ease and tosses it to the ground. 

“Teaching me anything this year hasn’t been your strong suit.”

“Well, we don’t need to do this the hard way, but with that attitude? That’s where you're headed,” Nanami grabs both of your breasts under that thin bra of yours, freeing them from the cups before diving in to taste them.

A small pant escapes your lips at the sensation, arching your back to give your professor more access. He takes the opportunity, using his teeth to slowly drag across your nipples. Your knuckles clench against the desk as you try to stay quiet. Even if your threshold for pleasure without moaning like an animal is barely existent, you want more from Nanami. You want him to rile up, to give him a face other than stoicism and agitation. 

“What’s the hard way ? Being fucked in your classroom?” You thrall, unable to hide that smirk that tells Nanami exactly which option you prefer. “Maybe making me your private lesson for the day?”

Nanami scoffs, using your name as a cautionary tale, to tell you to not push him. You swing your feet on his desk, knocking the back of your shoes off the wood, and grabbing your tits to playfully taunt him. You twist the nipples in front of him, giving him your feigned faces of arousal, grabbing the fat like it didn’t matter to you. You wanted it all to matter to him, and you certainly didn’t miss those eyes that glanced at your display before looking back up.

“ Oh , I love a challenge, baby.” You sing, reaching up to pull him closer, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt to reveal a soft glimpse of clavicle. 

His hands catch both of yours.

Before you could feel the skin underneath that white shirt, Nanami’s hands took your hips and dragged you back on the ground, away from the desk and probably the last chance you had to back out. Not like you had any intention to back out anyway.

“Get on your fucking knees.” He says. The words come out so dark, so lustful , so purposeful that you would’ve never expected from your English professor.

You didn’t even need to think about it. The way you immediately knelt on the ground like an obedient dog for your instructor is concerning. You watch his hands reach above his trouser pants, see his well-manicured nails travel right at the hem in front of you, and pull out the dress shirt he tucked so neatly in place. Once his brown leather belt clicked off, you didn’t need to consider future repercussions. 

“The rest of it. Take it off.” He tells you.

Your skinny fingers unbutton his suit pants and inch down his boxers, catapulting his hard-on out in the air. You practically whimper at the sight. His dick is more than you imagined in all those lectures you sat in on. It's curved with a prominent and a large vein running from head to base, making you shift your legs. You thought about him in the same lectures where you would catch eyes with Nanami and let both eyes travel to each other. Those tight trousers you’ve thirsted to have off are no longer a problem.

It’s much more satisfying when you see the drapes match the curtains.

“Good, now…–!” His sentence breaks, and he hisses when your fingers suddenly wrap around him. 

You feel a different ridge and vein of his thick girth for every second that passes before gallantly pumping it with your fist. The way your fingers were shy of connecting a ring around his shaft was enough to make you wet.

You didn’t have to think twice when you looked up at him, giving him pretty innocent eyes as you stroked his cock. Inside, you were absolutely reveling in the power. Your arms narrowed into your torso, giving Nanami the perfect view of your tits. You pulled your face right next to his member while you stroked it like such a tease to see if you could make him take things a step further. At this point, you can’t hide the creeping grin when Nanami’s stoic gaze starts to turn darker. He starts unbuttoning the rest of his loosened shirt.

“ Fuck , I love how you look right now,” Nanami says. “Put that gorgeous mouth to work.”

No second was needed to think; you instantly cut your attention on the growl that spilled off of his tongue when your lips kissed his cock. Maybe it would be better to get to the point, to take all of him in your mouth and show him what you’ve been daydreaming about, but something wants you to unravel him slowly. By the time each of his buttons undoes on his dress shirt, you get to see just how chiseled your professor is.

You travel your tongue up and down his shaft, teasing and tasting the sweet skin shy of his trimmed pubic hair. You gaze at the perfect cut of his V-line, then to all the rigid lines of each muscle exposed to you.

Your hands start to loosen the pants and boxers still around his hips as you lick him, making it pool down his ankles and shiny brown loafers. You return to his hips and trace graceful lines on his cream-colored skin. 

His skin catches you in a trace; every inch of his body is soft and supple, showing it’s cared for. When your fingers rub against it, you mistake it for a canvas picked from the finest clothes. The perfection doesn’t look real. 

Your face flushes when his finger strokes your cheek. He looks like he could melt from your eyes, slowly turning a more profound gaze once you take all of him in your mouth. 

You let your throat relax as, inch by inch, you swallow his cock down, looking at him the whole way. Nanami watches the whole thing, mouth agape, and face furrowed like he’s in agony . Like he was one step away from using your head as he liked and making a mess out of you, his favorite student who should learn more about obedience. The pace you hold is that of a snail, but you want to get accustomed to his length: it’ll help out both of you. 

Once his pubic hair tickles the tip of your nose, you feel like you’re running out of breath. The need to take all of him is a ticking time bomb. You squish your lips against the base in a flash, scrunching your nose to his pelvis before pulling away and starting back at the head. 

The second time, reaching his base was a lot easier, especially with a hot distraction watching you like you were the moon and stars. Tufts of hair now stuck to his forehead as he pants at you, eyes dilated and bothered to look at anything else. 

You continue to bob your head up and down on his pulsing dick, reaching a finger to tug at his balls lightly. Your mouth has fully painted his shaft in a layer of your own spit, brushing it down the base before replacing it with a new layer. The build-up of saliva gathered around your lips in a wet foam. 

His stoic gaze, which he held since the day you met him, crumbles. His bottom lip is trapped between his teeth as he huffs in the air. By the minute, his pants grow rugged as his hand brushes back your hair. If he didn’t do that, your hair would’ve been in the way of the lock of your eyes.

When you tease the bottom of his head with the graze of your bottom teeth, he balls your loose hair in a fist. the force causes you to whimper out before plunging his dick in your mouth as fast as you could. Over and over again. 

“ Thaat’s it .”

His head throws back as his hips start to snap into your mouth. His hand tangled in your hair forces you down on his cock, but the other presses against your cheek, caressing and tilting your head just right. He groans a little louder when he tilts your head up to rock against you, just to tilt your head back down when it gets overwhelming.

You could practically taste the pre-cum seeping into your mouth, your cheeks hollow out, making the pressure on Nanami’s cock tighten the fist on your hair. He couldn’t help but use that head. He rocks you with reckless abandon, tears rolling down your cheeks and no doubt make a writhing mess of you. You constrict your lips around him so much his entire body jolts. You want more than just pre-cum.

“Okay, okay.” 

He pulls you off once he’s on the edge of cumming down your throat. How can you tell? The bliss he had on his face slowly trickling earlier was now contorted, his once slicked back hair now starting to fall out of place, and his other hand that gripped the edge of his desk at the last minute showed you all you needed to know. He didn’t need to tell you the obvious anyway, you knew where he wants to cum.

Your mouth had saliva dripping down your chin, making a thick string connect you and the tip of his penis. Your eyes teared up enough to no doubt smear the mascara on your bottom lashes. Gasps of air replace the part of Nanami that graced every corner of your mouth. You looked up at him like you were oblivious to the mess he made out of you, practically fluttering your eyes at his almost naked body.

“You look beautiful like that.”

Nanami helps you up before enveloping you in his body, arm around your waist, and crooning your head to sop up the spit that dribbled down your neck. The sensation of his tongue and grip on your body made it feel on fire. His lips to your ear had the perfect timing.

“You want me to treat your pretty pussy the same way as your slutty mouth?”

“Please.”

Nanami immediately kisses you while helping you out of your clothing. Things needed to change if he was the only one naked.

He’s insatiable when he sees your naked body, taking in every exposed surface of skin that he can. In one swift motion, he moves closer to you before leaning down, hoisting you in the air by your ass, with large hands gripping the supple skin before placing you on his desk. You’re left in disarray as he wastes no time nipping at your skin. His hands are on you, caressing you as one holds your face close. His teeth brush up and down the surface of your shoulders. 

Your hands impatiently reach for the hand lovingly stroking your face, lowering it down your torso near your aching apex.

“Touch me.”

Your legs spread to show him a view of your lips, the ones his hand is being led to. You study his face as he gets achingly closer to your core, watching the enchantment in his eyes over that stoicism.

A heavy exhale escapes you when his fingers brush over your labia, his fingers drawing  along the puffy skin. Even with his slight touch, a small whine escapes you as you shiver under his touch. 

He spreads your folds with two fingers and sighs, no doubt seeing the effect he’s had on you. Your arousal pools out from the source, one he uses to gloss his fingers. He presses his digits against you and coats himself so expertly before pausing. It causes your legs to squirm with anticipation.

“I don’t think it will fit.” He exhales a harbored breath and holds up his fingers, spitting on them as pseudo-lubricant. “Let me teach you how to fix that.”

He leans over you, spit softly dribbling down his knuckles as his other hand cages you to him.

Your arms buckle against the desk to steady yourself as you lean back, giving Nanami the perfect spot over you. He positions himself between your legs, arm lowering down to your apex by slowly dragging the back of his hand down your body.

Nanami watches your body as his finger pushes in. No, push is an overstatement. His finger easily glides into you, breaking the barrier easily due to your dripping arousal. Your eyebrows lift and knit together as your body reacts to him. His eyes stay on you, stoic yet interested in your movement.

“You sound good like this.”

He’s a knuckle-deep by the time you start to pant, fists tightened against the desk. Your back arches to showcase your pretty tits to him, and you feel your legs spread more with each inch he pushes into you. 

“And you get worked up so fast.”

Never has a man been so intent, so clear with his actions, enough to make yourself so turned on from so little done to your body. His words make you wetter and your pussy pulse in a way that doesn’t feel possible.

You feel euphoric when he starts pumping. At first you tried not to show it, but his expertise was clear, watching your reaction to each movement. Heavy, piercing eyes look at you, searching for a reason why you’ve come undone faster than he thought.

You let out weighted breaths, coming out of you like a thick smoke. You try to quell the flames, to lower the tone of your pleasure, but Nanami dares to make you even hotter, even louder with fingers that pump faster into you.. 

He’s in a daze, looking at your pussy as his fingers go in and out, scissoring, curling, plunging inside you. You try to swallow down your moans as you clench onto digits.

“Slow down.” You manage to say.

He pulls back immediately.

“Why, too much?”

“No, I just, I don’t feel like I should be this loud over just…”

“I can fix that.”

His head impatiently presses to yours.

He lingers his tongue against your lips, leaving your mouth breathless before he’s even kissed you. Your hand leads him back when you see his plan; to muffle you under his touch. 

You feel him insert another finger into you.

What is this, the second? Third? His finger stretched you out so much you can’t determine it, but you know you need it in order to fit him. 

His fingers gently scissor you open, helping your body adapt to the changes. He uses his other hand to stroke your leg when it starts to shake, and he looks at your face, watching for any semblance of pain along the way.

“Are you doing okay?” He whispers.

“I can definitely take more.” You said, coming off as more cocky than you intended.

“I see.”

He leans down to the floor, making you spread your legs in anticipation for him licking you up, that would make sense right?

“Give me your hands.” 

Did you think he needs your hands for this? No. You hold them out for him regardless.

You don’t think you could fully register how fast he grabbed your wrists as you see his tie flash past and quickly tighten around the skin. 

“Who knew English class could get you so riled up?” You giggle in response before being shut up by Nanami’s lips on yours.

Your tongues dance together when you hear the familiar crinkle of a wrapper, before peaking your eyes open to see Nanami sliding the condom down his member. He doesn’t falter once.

Your hands feel higher when he breaks the kiss, Nanami forcing them up and out of the way in order to get close to you. It only takes a second to reconnect lips again, both of you so hungry this time, knowing what’s to come.

With nimble hands you pull Nanami closer, letting his hands lower to your hips, gripping himself close to your soaked pussy. With a whisper of consent, his cockhead eases into you.

Pushing in, both of you release a sigh of relief as you feel yourself being stretched out more than earlier. You whimper against his skin, thankful he worked on loosening you up beforehand, but still living the very real consequences of his thick girth. 

Your hands squirm in the air, desperately wanting to wrap around your professor, but a stagnant hand holds them in the air, denying you the ability to move them any farther than digging your nails into his wrist.

You stifle your moans into heavy breaths when his length fully sinks into you, but the task seems impossible when he starts moving his hips.

you 

He was only a few thrusts in before you both heard a knock on the door.

“Hey, Mr. Nanami. You okay in there? I’ll be leaving soon, but I wanted to check in.”

You squeak, realizing who is talking on the other side of the door. It was the dean of the college, one that is a door away from sending you to expulsion. You tense up, something that Nanami definitely notices.

“Dammit,” Nanami mutters, hips stuttering when you unconsciously squeeze around him. For him it feels pleasurable. For you it feels downright heavenly, wasting no time to gasp.

Immediately, hands clasp onto your mouth, muffling a surprised gasp when Nanami thrusts deeper into you. 

“Try to be quiet.” He whispers, immediately raising his voice. “Thanks, Ichiji, sir, but I’m good. I just found a student who needs some help. I’ll lock up myself… shit.” Nanami could barely squeeze out an excuse before grunting. You squeezed your pussy around his dick, clamping down on him just right. Does he know if it’s purposeful? At first it wasn’t, but seeing he has his hand clamp around you, it’s free game.

“You sure you’re alright? I heard some concerning noises,” the principal trails off. 

You hear the door handle shift, yet the door doesn’t open. 

“Apologies, the handle must be jammed again.” Nanami says. “I’ll get going in a few.”

There’s a pause, one you don’t divulge in, as Nanami gets his payback by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, making you shiver into his grasp. You hear the faintness of the voice once again.

“Well, try not to overwork yourself again. I’ll be leaving.”

You pry his fingers off your mouth after hearing footsteps echo down the hallway. You almost hear what sounds like a sound of relief coming from your professor.

“Please, that door has never jammed,” You blink. “Wait, did you lock it earlier?”

“Can’t help it. It seems I can’t control myself around you.”

He doesn’t explain further, rather showing you the extent of his swagger.

He leans into your neck, nibbling on the flesh before sucking on one of your nipples, passionately licking, biting, and kissing the bud until your pussy clamps back down on him.

He hollowed his core, rounded his back, and clapped into you more. His eyes watch you flutter under him as your legs wrap around him.

The slaps of his balls thumping against your pussy with each jack of his hips is loud, raunchy, and undomesticated. Your voice breaks into a heavenly sound without resistance now, and Nanami doesn’t move to stop it. When there’s a semblance of silence in your moans, you manage to choke out, “What happened to shutting me up?”

“My superior isn’t here anymore. I couldn’t give a damn about what anyone else hears.” 

Nanami spreads your legs, thrusting in you so forcefully your mouth opens in another silent scream, your eyes roll back from the pleasure.

“Want a challenge? Scream so loud like it’s the last thing I’ll ever hear.”

He drank that shit up—you knew—so much that you could see his eyes practically fuck you harder than his body. Just when you think he’s reached his capacity to pleasure you harder, he reaches for your shoulder, letting his grip slam you into his thrusts. The way his cockhead starts pounding againt your cervix sends a full body current of otherworldly heat into you, making your head kick back and body shake. If it wasn’t for your professor's firm hands on you, your body would have flown off the damn desk. No, all the energy of each thrust is concentrated entirely inside of you, promoting a mirase of raunchy moans that have never bellowed from your body. 

Your crescendo of pleasure hit its peak soon enough, rupturing a loud moan from your throat. Your feet wrap around behind him, encasing his whole length inside you as you cum on him. You stop Nanami’s hard hammering of hips, causing his cock to twitch amidst your orgasm.

You're twitching on his desk, genuinely so tweaked and cock drunk you don’t need to move. Your mouth is open and covered in your dried spittle, along with your face and eye makeup undoubtedly smeared. You’re gasping for air just as much as Nanami is. You don’t have it in you to do anything else; you're not coherent enough for that.

Nanami holds out his hand.

“Here.”

He helps you down with gentle hands. The softness of his grip when his hands fall to your waist swells your heart and makes you blush. 

Your mind doesn’t have a chance to think before you feel something heavy drape around your shoulders. Nanami covers you with his suit jacket, one that’s surpringly weighted, yet durable.

He turns you around, and you feel his figure kneel behind you before untieing your restraints. He doesn’t stumble in undoing the knots, freeing your wrists promptly. 

“Hold still.”

You feel his hand pressing against your inner thigh, telling you to spread your feet. You do so, and feel a cloth in between your legs, cleaning you up in soft strokes. You let him clean you, keeping your body still.

When he gets up, he paces back to his desk, placing his now sodden handkerchief to the side. You hold the suit jacket from the sides, preventing it from sliding off.

“You planned all those measures? Kinda odd you would have condoms in the classroom.”

He shrugs.

“I can’t imagine having a kid with someone about a decade my junior.”

That wasn’t exactly what you were asking about; you brushed it off regardless. What did annoy you was his hint of snideness in the remark.

You lean against the desk with an annoyed grimace. “Remind me to poke a hole in it next time.”

Nanami furrows his brows at your remark. 

“You will do no such thing,” he says in a flat tone. That lack of depth in his voice doesn’t mean you don’t catch a hint of playfulness in his face.

“Does that mean there will be a next time?”

“Come to my class more, and then we can talk.”

“Deal.”

[cherubimcore]

pairing: alastor x reader

author's notes: sorry for the long wait 😭 college hates me and i started a new internship and i don't even have time to think about writing... but i finished another chapter, i don't know if it's good but i hope you like it, hopefully the next one is longer but i can't make any promises ;)

part 1

“what’s wrong?” charlie asked with a worried tone.

“nothing you have to concern your little head about it” alastor forced a smile, he knew none of them would believe him but he needed a couple hours alone to think about the letter “now… if there’s nothing more to be said, i will be going”

and before any of them could ask more questions alastor blended into the shadows and transported himself to his room in the hotel.

letting his smile drop a little he sat on his bed and stared at the letter in his hands.

why were they doing this to him?

sure, he’s not exactly the best person out there but he at least tried to be somewhat civil, between helping charlie with this excuse of a hotel and trying to not infringe on the terms of the deal he made long ago.

but this… this put everything he spent the last decades building in jeopardy.

if alastor could he would simply tear this letter apart and burn it, never thinking about those words again.

the demon stepped in front of his fireplace with the letter in hands ready to ignore and completely forget about it, but the tight grip on his hands didn’t let the letter fall in the flames.

he couldn’t.

after staring at the letter for what felt like hours, alastor finally set it aside. he could see the angels’ game as clear as day: they were setting him up to fail, counting on his nature to make it impossible for anyone, much less a human, to see him as anything more than a monster

and with that he was setting the hotel to fail spectacularly and that certainly wasn’t his deal with lilith all those years before.

that’s why she sent him the letter.

threatening everything he had accomplished with her help, either alastor likes to admit it or not.

but alastor was nothing if not stubborn, he wouldn’t let this stupid joke from heaven and lilith destroy everything for him, and, as much as he hates to admit, for charlie as well, and he wasn’t about to play the angels’ little game without a twist of his own.

after alastor’s initial attempts to charm you—mostly involving unsettling gifts, eerie glances, and his “radio smile” lingering far too long—he began to realize that his usual tactics weren't working. he’d appear in mirrors, whisper eerie compliments from dark corners, and once even serenaded you with a distorted, old-timey song that left you rattled. and yet, instead of getting closer, you were pulling away, more suspicious than ever.

seeing his frustration, the crew decided to intervene.

“look, al,” angel dust said one afternoon as he watched alastor pace around the lobby. “you can’t just be creepy and expect a girl to swoon. romance isn’t about lurking around like some horror movie villain.”

alastor frowned, his smile flickering. “romance isn’t exactly my expertise,” he admitted, crossing his arms. “but I was certain that she’d appreciate a little…mystique.”

“maybe tone down the ‘i’m watching you from the shadows’ vibe,” charlie suggested gently. “why don’t you just…be there for her? show up, help her out, maybe smile a little less, um…serial-killer-y?”

husk snorted, shaking his head. “yeah, or just act like a normal person for once. no haunting, no creeping.”

alastor grimaced, but, reluctantly, he took their advice. the next time he appeared, it was during the day, while you were organizing books on the shelf. he simply knocked on the door—a sharp, polite rap that startled you. when you turned, he was standing there with an unreadable expression, his hands behind his back.

“good afternoon,” he said, his voice smooth, though still holding that eerie undertone. “i thought perhaps I could assist you…if you’d allow.”

you looked at him with a puzzled expression, was he joking? after almost scaring you to death all those days and making you actually consider moving out of the very nice house you didn’t actually pay rent to now being polite as if he’s a sort of roomate of yours wanting to make peace after an argument?

you scoffed but still allowed him to help, at least he could make himself useful after everything.

“so…” you said after a while, still side-eyeing him, expecting your ghostly intruder to do something suspicious “what are you exactly?”

alastor stopped on his tracks, still with a book on his hands halfway through to be put on the shelf.

“well, me dear” you noticed the static on voice had toned down significantly after your first encounters “i am a demon”

“a demon, huh” you squinted, why the hell didn’t your grandmother tell you she had a freaking demon living in her house? “do you have a name, demon?”

alastor’s smile faltered a little, back in hell he would never let anyone talk to him like this, but here he was swallowing the harsh words he wanted to say at the cost of his life... or even better not-life.

“no name?” you insisted, making him wake up from his daydream.

“the name’s alastor” the deer-man turned towards you, the pile of books on his hand gone and the room feeling less like a mess “and what is your name?”

“you are haunting me and don't even know my name?” you crossed your arms on your chest, laughing at the idea.

alastor opened his mouth to send a snarky remark in your direction but you were faster.

“my name is (y/n)... (y/n) (y/l/n)”

after you introduced yourself, alastor’s expression flickered briefly, he had heard your name before he was sure he had but why couldn’t he place it from where? it’s not usual for alastor to forget things like this, he made a mental note to talk to charlie about it, maybe she would know.

“well, (y/n), i must say,” alastor began “it’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance properly.” he extended a hand in an oddly formal gesture, as if you were meeting at a tea party rather than dealing with an uninvited demon in your grandmother’s home.

despite yourself, you almost felt a pang of amusement at his attempt at chivalry, and with a smirk, you took his hand. his touch was cool, yet strangely grounding. but the moment you released his hand, that unnerving cheshire grin of his was back.

“now that we’re formally introduced,” he said, leaning in with an amused gleam in his eye, “perhaps you’ll stop looking at me like a poltergeist?”

“maybe if you stop acting like one,” you countered, rolling your eyes but finding yourself oddly charmed by his persistence.

taglist: @vxllys

[milykins]

One More Night

I felt inspired by @justalotoffanfiction who wrote a Bayverse Raph story based on Mr. Brightside, so I thought I'd try my hand writing something based on a different song, One More Night by Maroon 5.

TW: Angst, Abuse toward Raph, verbal and physical, swearing and mentions of sex.

*Aged up characters

*Bayverse Raph × Reader

*HEA ending guaranteed

Special thanks to @avery73 for beta-reading!

Even the strongest of us can fall victim to this type of treatment. Raphael was no exception.

SLAP!

The sound reverberated off of the paper-thin walls in the tiny apartment. She was hitting him again. She was always angry at him for some reason. Why the hell was he here again? Oh, yeah, because she wanted to fuck him. This was always the reason.

He got a little bit of satisfaction seeing her shake her hand after slapping him, though it did nothing to quell her seemingly burning hatred toward him. If anything, she looked more enraged that his skin was so tough.

“You ASSHOLE! You think you can come and go as you please?! I’ve been waiting for you for hours!” She was screaming at him because his patrol had gone longer than it normally would, and she did not like to be kept waiting.

He knew this, and he should care, but he didn't. This… ‘thing’ they’d had going on had been well-established for months, but any time something went awry or didn’t go according to plan, she exploded. It’s not like she could really hurt him… slapping, hitting, throwing things at him. It didn’t really matter. That’s what he tried to tell himself, to make excuses for her behaviour because, on the other hand, being with her had resulted in some of the hottest sex imaginable. That’s why he kept coming back. That’s why they both kept coming back.

It still made him angry though. Fucking bitch.

“FUCKING FINE! I’ll just fucking GO THEN.” He meant it and whirled around to leave.

“Don’t you take another step Raphael.” She snapped; her voice deadly low. “Get the hell over here.”

He should leave. He should shut this down right now and never come here again. They both knew that this wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t stop coming.

And she knew it.

Moments later he’d spanned the length of the room and had her pressed tightly against the wall, kissing her ravenously, his hand fisted in her hair. She was just as desperate, hands clawing at him, trying to remove his clothes, and throwing his weapons to the ground. As hot as that was, he’d never liked how she had no respect for them or cared about how dangerous they were. All she had cared about was getting what she wanted.

In the aftermath, he laid in her bed staring at the ceiling hating himself. She was deeply asleep beside him blissfully unaware of his conflicting feelings. She’d apologize of course in her moments of clarity, even promise that next time she’d be nicer, gentler. She never kept that promise.

Quietly, as only a ninja could, he dressed, retrieved his weapons, tucking them safely into his belt and left. He felt like such an idiot. He needed to stop fucking doing this. He knew his brothers and their father were worried about him but he shut down anytime anyone tried to ask him about it. The only one who had any idea of what was going on was Casey.

“Dude, she sounds fucking awful, why do you keep going there?”

“Cuz she’s hot and the sex is amazing.”

“No pussy is worth this, man. She’s slapping the shit out of you every time you go.”

“’s fine, it doesn’t really hurt me any.”

“Maybe not physically, but it ain’t great for your head.”

“I’m fine.”

They’d left it at that; but as time went on, he was slowly coming to the realization Casey was right. This wasn’t good for him but he kept going back. He needed to stop; he needed a reason to cut ties with her for good.

You ended up being that reason.

You’d been best friends throughout your teens and had lost touch after the two of you had met your respective partners. Your relationship had ended disastrously with him cheating on you with a ‘friend’ of yours. Immediately, you cut ties and burned those bridges with both of them. Now single, your thoughts had turned back to Raph. You wondered how he was doing and hoped he was happy. You wished the two of you could reconnect and catch up, but you were afraid he’d forgotten all about you.

It's funny how life works sometimes. One Saturday night, you heard glass breaking in the apartment below you. You had just moved in and had groaned when you realized there was probably a loud argumentative couple living below you now. Hearing more noise and muffled yelling prompted you to go to your balcony to see what was going on. You figured you could call the police if it got really bad and you were just a tiny bit nosy.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw and heard.

“You’re fucking crazy! I’m done. WE’RE FUCKING DONE! I ain’t never coming back here!” It was Raph, it was unmistakably his voice. You’d know it anywhere.

Craning your neck over the side of your balcony you looked far as you could and saw him. The poor guy looked like a wreck. There was red liquid and bits of broken glass all down his front. From what you could see, it appeared to be remnants of a glass of wine. You could assume that it had been hurled at him along with the entire bottle it looked like.

“Don’t you fucking walk out on me, Raphael! GET BACK HERE!” The woman who’d thrown those things was screaming at him but he wasn’t turning back.

It was only when you heard the screen door slam shut that you dared call out to him. “Raph?”

He heard you, how could he not? Seconds later, he was swinging himself up to your balcony, whispering your name in surprise and looking ashamed at his appearance. He hurriedly brushed any remaining pieces of glass to the floor. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I just moved here.” Unable to stop yourself, you reached to grab his arm but stopped when you saw him physically tense up. What had happened to him? He used to be so strong in your eyes, and now he looked afraid to have you touch him.

Slowly, as if you were approaching a scared animal, you gently pulled him inside. You couldn’t help but notice that he just looked so angry and… broken.

“Are you okay?” You knew your concern was valid since he was quiet a long moment before answering.

“…I’m fine.” He was lying to you, and he hated himself for doing that. He regretted it the moment those two words left his lips.

Sucking in a breath you gently grabbed those huge biceps of his and met his troubled gaze. God, you’d missed those piercing green eyes of his. “You’re not fine Raph… you’re covered in wine and…” You looked at his face, studying it more. “Does she… hit you?”

He turned away in shame as he tensed. “Doesn’t hurt none…”

You narrowed your gaze, your own anger rising up as you gave those arms a squeeze. “How often is she hitting you, Raph…?” Again, when he doesn’t answer right away your tone and your grip become harder. “How. Often?”

He spoke so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “A lot…” If he’s finally admitting it to someone, it should be you.

A lump was quickly forming in your throat as you realized what had been going on. What kind of relationship he’d been dealing with. Why he was so tense and unsure. How unhealthy it was and why you hadn’t heard from him in so long.

“Raph… that’s… abuse. She’s abusing you.” You whispered these words because it hurt you to say them any louder. You knew Raph would never lay a hand against a woman, but you never expected him to be on the receiving end of this kind of thing.

His first instinct was to argue against that. He bristled as he backed away out of your grasp, walls of defense shooting in place as he tried to deny it. That was ridiculous! Him being abused.

“No it ain’t! I’d know if I was… that’s fucking ridiculous!” He’d curled his hands into large fists, his shoulders hunched and slightly shaking with his denial.

You can feel him practically vibrating with humiliation and uncertainty. You say nothing more as you go to him and start gently rubbing his shell. You’d done this often for him when you both were younger. The action was soothing to him whenever he was angry and upset about something. When you finally felt him relax, you moved around to his front, hugging him tightly. A few tears slip down your cheeks, adding to the wine stains on his red hoodie. You felt absolutely broken for him.

“Please don’t say you’re fine Raph… not to me…” You attempted to swallow the lump and keep your tears at bay. “It’s okay… It’s okay to admit this is happening to you, and it’s okay to leave…” You choked out a sob. “It’s okay… to not be okay. I’m here for you.”

That was it. Finally, finally, the walls fall down as his arms came around you holding you so tight you could barely breathe. He’d been living a lie for so long, spent too many months with this appalling treatment, but seeing you, hearing that was all it took. The dam broke; he buried his face into your shoulder, shaking slightly as he finally allowed himself to break.

He was crying, you realized as he quietly sobbed, his own tears joining yours as you cried together. “It’s okay, big guy…” you choked out. “It’s gonna be okay…” You rubbed his shell as best you could, being an anchor for him in his time of need.

When he finally looked up, you could see his mask was damp, his expression vulnerable and unsure accompanied with shaky breaths. You suddenly had the urge to kiss him. Where had that come from? You two were just friends… right? Plus, this wasn’t the right time… he needed to get his head right and recover. You shook the thought away and took his hand, guiding him to your couch. “Take that off.” You softly ordered. “I’ll wash it.”

Too exhausted to fight or argue, he listened and removed both his red mask and hoodie. Gently, you took them and threw both items into your washing machine with laundry soap and oxyclean. Hopefully, that would be enough to remove the wine stains.

He relaxed into your couch and called for you. “C’mere.” The request was soft yet held a note of urgency. When you approached, he reached for you and pulled you onto his lap. “Jus’ wanna hold you,” he murmured, needing your comfort and closeness, something he’d been severely lacking in for a long time.

It was easy to melt into his embrace and wrap your arms around him in return. “I gotcha big guy…”

He held you quietly for a long time, just breathing in your scent and taking in your soft energy. This was the turning point, the sign he’d needed to make a permanent change in his life and cut that toxic woman out of his life. He hadn’t felt like he had the strength to do it previously, but with your support, now he did.

“Thank you… for bein’ here…”

“I’ll always be here for you Raph…”

True to his word, he’d made good on his decision to completely cut ties with her. There had been even more yelling and items being thrown at him, but he was done. Once he’d made up his mind, that was it. He was one hundred percent DONE. She didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell to come back from it.

You were there waiting for him when he told you the news and were so happy and relieved or him. His brothers, in turn, were also relieved with Mikey even calling to thank you for being there for his big brother.

He visited you regularly, now having a much better reason to go to that same apartment building. The two of you slowly reconnected and started making up for lost time. You were a crucial part of his recovery and ended up being a major element in his support system. The feelings you had toward him from that fateful night had only grown stronger, but you wouldn’t act on them. You couldn’t, not until he was fully healed.

Raph had been realizing how wrong he’d been to let you go and had vowed to make it up to you. It was little things at first, stopping by after patrols with pizza, sending you a random meme that he hoped would make you laugh, and bringing you your favourite latte in the mornings. He was slowly coming to terms with how much he had missed this and how much he had missed you. This is what a healthy relationship looked like, and he felt like a fool for not seeing it earlier.

It was a few months later that it had finally hit him over the head that what he’d needed and what he truly wanted had been right in front of him all along. He saw you, and when he’d nervously confessed his feelings, he’d been absolutely elated when you’d told him you felt the same way.

That first kiss you two shared had been the pinnacle of his journey to healing.

Afterwards, you’d held him close and whispered these words.

“No one will ever hurt you again.”

Because you would make sure of it.

The End

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28 @definitely-canon @scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs