#and then just. laying his body weight on me.

[luveline]

shy!reader and spencer who are in the early days of their relationship and are getting more comfortable with initiating physical affection with each other (especially reader lol) and spencer gets her to open up by playing with her hair / hands, tickling her, cuddling, the like <3

The first time Spencer let his head rest against yours, you were sure you’d die right there and then, half-asleep on the subway, then suddenly away as he’d started talking under his breath, his conversation for you and you alone. You'd flushed full body and forced yourself to stay still, until Spencer had confused your shyness for not wanting his weight against you and pulled away. 

This time you’re ready. This time, he’s working his arm over the top of your shoulders. Not a timid first move on the first date, he’d suffered through that already. Spencer lets his arm slip between your back and the couch as he tugs you toward him, resting his cheek against your temple, two points of skin turning hot as a burner. 

“Okay?” he asks quietly. 

You let yourself relax into it. “I’m fine.” 

“Did you want me to run that bath for you?” 

It’s imperative he doesn’t move. “No, I can do it. I’ll do it later, if that’s okay.” 

It’s Spencer’s bath, but he let you take one the last time you stayed the night, so you’ll work it out. You knew he wasn’t gonna peep on you, knew you were totally safe in his bathroom, but your heart hammered fast as a hummingbird’s whenever the floors creaked —just the idea of being near him when you were unclothed set you aflame. Your skin warms with the memory, a nervousness in your chest and hands that grows uncomfortably warm. 

You don’t move, though. You’re sending him all the wrong messages when you reject him out of timidity, you’re more than aware of it, but the longer he sits there gently holding you, the more the temptation to squirm builds. 

Spencer makes a soft, soft sound as his hand trails up your back, curling around your arm, and meandering a path to your elbow. 

“I got…” —Spencer begins, without any inclination to rush— “…more of that bath soak you liked, the camomile… and honey…”

You love the smell. Sometimes you swear you can smell it in his hair when he presses near you. 

“And a loufa, ‘cos you didn’t have one last time,” he adds. 

“Thank you.” 

“…You’re welcome.” He kisses the side of your head. Then, in a betrayal of his character, he laughs breathlessly, saying, “Sorry, I forgot what I was saying. The loufa– It’s purple. I put it on the towel rack, and I got you a new face towel, too, mine’s too rough for you.” 

“Did you get yourself a new one too?” 

“Yeah.” He taps your cheek, the hand you’d forgotten about drawing a short line to your jaw. “You’re pretty.” 

You drop your chin. 

“You are,” he says. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Spencer’s hand slides down your neck, a caress that turns to a kind hold. “Can I…” He snorts softly. “You’re solid,” he says, squeezing your neck with enough pressure to wind you, which isn’t much. “You don’t have to get all tense.” 

“I’m trying really hard not to get tense,” you admit. 

“I know. I’m trying to help, but I’m just making it worse.” 

Spencer isn’t making it worse. Or, he wasn’t. “I thought you were gonna kiss me, is the thing.” 

“I was. Then you tensed up and I didn’t think I should.” His easy smile goes funny. “Could I have?” 

“Of course you could’ve,” you mumble, pressing your face into his shoulder before he can decimate the last of your self respect. He laughs —giggles, really, in a burst of sound— and tugs you in. “Not funny.”

He can hear the lie. “No, it’s not funny,” he agrees anyways, laying back and then moving forward, swaying you enough to turn the giggle into a full blown laugh. 

He murmurs something. You mumble back. His fingertips slip over the dip in your back and he’s saying something nice, if a little shy. It’s been nice getting closer to him, seeing the real Spencer, someone who’s hesitant but gentle beyond words. There’s no reason for him to be touching you like this, to talk sweet nothings behind your ear as he lugs you onto his chest, and maybe there’s no reason for you to melt. Butter in the sun, drifting bonelessly into his lap. 

“You smell like tea,” you say quietly. “I love it.” 

“You love it?” he asks, something oddly awed about him as he shifts your head back to look you in the eyes. 

“Mm. It’s nice. And your eyes are so brown… they’re my favourite thing about you.” 

Spencer teases the stripe of skin exposed by your rising t-shirt until you’re shivering again. “Thank you,” he says, letting one close in a wink as he taps your nose with his. “Am I allowed to say what I like about you, or–” You shake your head so violently he immediately stops. “Fine. But only because I want to sit like this for the rest of the night with you.” 

“I still need a shower.” 

“Later,” he says, his lips resting on your chin. “Way, way later, please.” 

[aangelinakii]

BATBOYS + SITTING ON THEIR BACK DURING PUSH-UPS.

note : personally i would love someone to push up w me on their back ,,, and also no damian just becquse i couldn't rhink of a scenario soz aloz

BRUCE WAYNE.

the kids had forced offered bruce a night off, after performing his nightly duties too many months in a row. now, sitting in bed with a book, you found it difficult to concentrate on the printed words as your partner lingered on the floor by his side of the bed, his quick breaths huffing through your shared bedroom. what on earth could he be doing? flipping the corner of your page down to save your place, you folded the book shut and put it down, rolling over the bed to peer over the side... only to find your wonderous bruce wayne... doing push ups?

"what are you doing?" you'd chuckled with a soft shake of your head.

muscles rippling beneath the flesh of his back, bruce brought his body down, and then pushed himself back up again, his triceps straining against skin. with a grunt he glanced back at you, never ceasing movement. "i need to get energy out before i go to bed. mind you, i'm not usually relaxing by this time."

another laugh brushed past your lips. "then that's not tiring you out." but bruce only sent you another glance, more sheepish this time; you couldn't blame him, not being accustomed to how one normally retires for the evening.

before he could reply again, you were slinging a leg over the side of the mattress and landing on the plush carpeting. bruce's exercise ceased in curiosity, his head turning to run his gaze over your legs. "oh, no, don't stop on my behalf," you grinned, carefully tucking one of your shins along his back and lowing the rest of your weight onto him.

but bruce wayne didn't falter a bit.

instead, he took it in his stride, tucking his arms and moving down, and then pushing up even faster than he'd been doing before. but he couldn't hide the crescent of his eyes and lines at the corners of his mouth as they turned up — he could do this all night.

DICK GRAYSON.

bullets of sweat shot to the floor with each punch, his flesh grunting against the boxing bag hanging from the ceiling. it never had the chance to swing too far, for he was already hitting it from the other side. although you weren't going as hard at it as your boyfriend, your own limbs were straining from exercise.

with a loud exhale, dick stepped away from the swinging sand bag, holding out a shaking hand to steady it. before it could stop, he was already moving to one of the ready-laid mats.

without a second too long of a break, he was down on his palms, moving up and down, his triceps tensing and bulging in his flesh. the way he kept glancing at you every few moments was making it very difficult to focus on your own workout.

ceasing your movements, you looked over at him with crossed arms. "anything i can help you with?" it was half a joke, expecting him to just grunt a chuckle and shake his head, getting caught red-handed checking you out. instead, he allowed a few seconds' silence, and then hummed.

"yes, actually." his voice was strained against his action, but he'd be damned if he stopped now just to speak. "come here, will you?"

it's not like you're busy or anything. but who were you to deny one dashingly handsome dick grayson your time and energy; especially when that's what you were dating him for.

unable to bite back a smile, you made your way over. "okay... what now?"

"sit on my back."

despite the tension in his throat as he spoke, dick didn't pause his push-ups — and you were supposed to sit on him like this? right...

however strange it may have been to try sit down on a moving man's back, the sheer fact dick could push-up your body weight made it worth it (no matter how many times you fell off before finally sticking it).

JASON TODD.

relaxing days — no work, no appointments, nothing to do — had to be the best days. especially here, as you and jason lay belly-down on the floor, using your glorious free time to complete a puzzle book you'd found at the grocery store the other day.

well... jason was belly-down on the floor; you were belly-down on his back, peering over his shoulder and pointing at the page, giving your contributions.

it got to the point where you were both on the last page, pen marks etched into the paper from where you'd scribbled answers and numbers and words, but you were stumped. with a huff, jason flicked the pen from his fingers, landing with a thump a metre away. "how are they gonna make puzzles you can't even solve? stupid..."

"hey, hey," you chuckled, bringing your fingers to scratch lovingly at his jaw. "i can get us a new one. want to go now?" as the words left your mouth, you moved one leg from where it lay entwined with his, preparing to get ready for an outing.

but jason was too quick, and too stubborn. before you could react, he'd pulled one arm from beneath him and lightly pressed down on your back, keeping you in place. "no, i'm joking," he mumbled. "please, let's just stay."

anything for him.

and so you fell limp against him once more, arms folding beneath your chin so you could rest your head, eyes fluttering closed. silence ran through the apartment, aside from the soft workings of jason's breathing beneath your ear; outside the city buzzed, but, by now, it was more background noise. perhaps a little nap wouldn't hurt—

something was moving beneath you, and your eyes shot open in alarm, arms shooting out from beneath you and clinging to the nearest thing – which happened to be around jason's waist. although you weren't moving, the coffee table beside you was bobbing up and down, and you couldn't possiblt fathom what was happning, until you realised...

"don't want to miss a workout," jason grunted from below, as if reading your mind. no lazy day was truly lazy when you had a jason peter todd to mind.

TIM DRAKE.

"i bet i could do that," tim spoke from the other end of the couch, where his socked feet were prodding your legs, probably in a surreptitious attempt to get them massaged. "no sweat."

you glanced between the tv and him, your lovely boyfriend tim, who would come up in the dictionary if you searched for the word overzealous. on the screen, playing the scene of a bizarre film you'd flipped to, the main love interest was working out when the main character stumbled into the room; there was some fleeting dialogue, and then, before you could find an explanation for it, she was sitting on his back as he continued his workout.

"what, you—" now when you looked over at tim, he had that wide grin on his face, and you knew you were in for something. "you want to try it now?"

without much of an answer, tim was rising to his feet, adjusting the waistband of the linen pyjama pants he wore, and fell to his hands and knees. "i mean, if you insist," he scoffed playfully. "try not to fall in love with me even more."

something about this didn't feel right... tim was certainly muscular, certainly strong — you'd seen him in action — but you didn't have much trust in him this time. regardless of your worries, you shimmied from your seat on the couch and carefully arranged yourself, legs crossed, on tim's back.

he only shook a bit at first, his legs now outstretched behind him, arms firm as logs. but he wasn't moving, just frozen in the plank position.

peering over his shoulder at him, you asked, "what's with the hold-up?"

pink in the cheeks, jaw clenched, tim's voice barely came out through his teeth. "yeah, just... wait—"

carefully – and very slowly – tim lowered himself, and in addition you, down, until his toned chest was millimetres away from the floor, and then, just as slowly, he pushed back against the ground.

once he was back in his starting position, he shifted beneath you, almost toppling you overboard. "okay, okay, i'm done!" he gasped. "my abs are gonna kill me!"

DUKE THOMAS.

being sick for the past week, you'd found it difficult to encourage yourself out of the house to go visit the gym — so, instead, you'd resorted to working out at home.

duke returned home the moment the sun began to dip below darkening clouds, his warmth radiating through the house as he closed the door behind him. he called something into the living room, but it went unheard beneath the instructions playing on the telly.

"oh, you working out?" he hummed as he entered, raking his eyes over your form and the synchronised movements on the tv screen.

mid-movement, you grunted a yeah, and duke edged around you to sit on the couch.

finally, when your break came, you collapsed to your mat and turned to him, grabbing your water bottle on the coffee table. "how was patrol?" you breathed.

the corners of duke's mouth turned up in a grin, clearly bemused by the sheen of sweat along your brow. "yeah, great." his eyes glanced over to the screen — two more minutes of your break, and it looked like you'd be attempting a five-minute plank. "mind if i work in with you?"

you glanced back, sipping at your water, and gave a half-chuckle. "i would've thought you'd be too tired for more exercise."

duke's bottom lip jutted out with a casual shrug. "i've missed you, we can do it together."

unfortunately, you couldn't ignore that little smile, that charm he held like a secret. and so you put your water bottle back on the table and duke joined you, beside your mat.

when the timer was up, you braced yourself for your plank, but duke, also on his knees, caught your attention — some stupid smile lingered on his lips, like he had a cheeky plan. "i don't know if a plank will be difficult enough for me."

"well done," you scoffed playfully. "just because it's easy for you, doesn't mean it's easy for me."

he held out a hand to diffuse any wrong ideas. "no, i just meant i think i know a way to break a sweat."

at this, you eyed him suspiciously, albeit curiously. before you could question him any further, he was on his palms and tip of his toes, gesturing you to sit on his back.

after a few "are you crazy?"s, you found yourself sitting on his back, trying not to touch him too much with your overly-warm limbs, lowering and raising with ease, your youtube workout by now forgotten.

[ippipo]

husband!rafayel x reader, reader is lovestruck loser in this

rafayel's eyes contain the entire galaxy in them. you would spend your day cuddling with him while staring into his eyes when he wasn't paying attention.

one day, you just couldn't help how beautiful they looked. the sunrays from the window hit his face just right, and his beautiful orbs were highlighted. he was painting something, and you were absolutely mesmerized by his divinity. is he a god cause dayum.

the way his silhouette was carefully picked out, his skin was so flawless, his body, and his eyes, the heavens took their sweet time making him. your legs were wobbly just by looking at him. your sweet boy.

you gazed for a solid minute into his eyes without blinking until a teardrop made its way out, startling you. your eyes were dry, but you didn't care. he was truly a sight to behold. he moves slightly to fix his hair, and you let out a moan. you didn't know you had that in you. he freezes at the sound.

"is my wife horny just by looking at me? i mean, how could you resist all this?" he teases you. the word 'wife' came out so sweet from that beautiful mouth of his. "you're such a loser," he playfully states, a cheeky grin etched onto his face.

you couldn't reply. you were awestruck at how gorgeous he looked. my husband. you thought to yourself. the concept making you feel giddy inside. your entire body was filled with so much pleasure at the mere sight of him. "rafayel...." you let out. it unexpectedly sounded like a whine, you just wanted to call out his name, satisfied with the way it rolled out on your tongue.

his ears and cheeks turned red the way you uttered his name. "what is it, wifey?" he asks you. you still weren't responding. a dumb look on your face resembling a goldfish made him snort. you were so adorable to him. "i-" you begin, but end it with a sigh.

he placed the paintbrush in his hand down and waltzed towards the sofa, kneeling before you on the ground. your breath hitches at how he became even more gorgeous as he came closer. he caresses your skin, and it just felt so good that you moaned again.

your heart was in a frenzy. unable to handle it anymore while he was moving even closer to kiss you, you pushed him away. your entire body was reacting to his touch, a warm and fuzzy feeling overwhelming you.

he feigns a look of hurt, before pushing himself up and laying on you. the position was awkward but you were seeing stars. his entire weight was on you but it was comfortable. he flips you and now you were laying on him.

you sharply inhale, remembering how to breathe again. "rafayel," you whine out, wanting to repeat his name over and over again like a chant. he was a god and you were his devotee. he was a temple and you were his worshipper. he was the sole reason everything made sense and no sense at all at the same time. you were obsessed.

your fingertips graze over his lips, trying to make out if he was real or not. unbelievable. "did you eat something funny?" he questions, a concerned expression on his face. but you weren't responding again. sure, you did have some weird tasting dessert in the morning, but that wasn't a part of anyone's concern. he was just so addicting.

he decides to kiss you, and you were going crazy. you let out moans in between the kisses, unable to hold your admiration inside. he didn't stop until you were out of breath, lips swollen from the intensity and roughness, and a dishelved look on your face. you pull him into another kiss, lips molding against each other so perfectly.

the warm feeling erupting inside you again, bringing you pleasure beyond your senses. the place down there throbbing with desire, so much so that it was painful.

now it was his turn to be out of breath. you were too, but he was so affected. "my sweet baby," you whisper affectionately while caressing his cheek with your thumb. the love in your eyes was overwhelming to him. no painting he could ever make could resemble that.

"were you in a trance or something?" he asks, but he goes quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment. "you just look so so beautiful, i couldn't help it," you flash him a toothy grin.

you sloppily smooch his forehead and connect yours with his. "i would kill for you," you state, a chill running down his spine and straight to his cock.

"baby, you're killing me already with that look," he buries his head into the nape of your neck. you laugh at the ticklish feeling and press a kiss to his temple. your sweet boy.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER ELEVEN ━━ The Story of Us

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.8K

❀ ━ warnings: mentions of cheating

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: never date a penn state boy (i say this from experience)

JO FEELS her body move before her mind can fully catch up, her legs shaky as she pushes herself off the bed. The room feels suffocating, suddenly too small, too loud in its silence. Asher’s phone is still in her hand, the weight of it like a lead anchor pulling her into the crushing reality she can’t seem to process. Her fingers tighten around it, her knuckles white, but her face betrays nothing. Not yet.

“Asher,” she says, her voice calm, steadier than she expects, even though it feels like there’s venom in her blood, poisoning her. “Get your shoes on.”

He’s standing near the bedroom door, mid-step. Confusion flashes across his face, his brows furrowing. “What? Why?”

Jo meets his eyes. The familiar green she’s known her whole life. But then his gaze flickers down, just for a split second, to the phone in her hand, and she sees it—the faint, fleeting flicker of something that looks like realization. Panic, maybe. Guilt.

Her chest tightens, and she feels like she might choke on the sudden wave of nausea that rises in her throat. But she doesn’t let it show.

“Just… put your shoes on,” she repeats quietly, her voice still calm, still too steady. She doesn’t trust herself to say anything else yet.

Asher hesitates, his mouth opening like he might argue. But then he closes it again, his jaw tightening. He nods, moving toward the corner of the room where his sneakers lay. He doesn’t ask any more questions, but Jo can feel his unease growing with every passing second.

She starts to walk, leaving the bedroom to go put on her slippers near the apartment door. Her grip on the phone is still so tight that her hand aches, but she doesn’t let go. Her thoughts are loud, a deafening roar in her head, but at the same time, she feels hollow. Empty.

This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

The words keep looping in her mind, a desperate chant she clings to even as the truth sits in her hand, undeniable. She doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t want to have this conversation, doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to see whatever’s written in his face when she says the words she knows she has to say.

She’s not a fighter. She never has been. She’s kind, and forgiving, and willing to let things slide because she hates conflict, hates the way it leaves scars on her heart and the hearts of the people she loves. But this? This is too big to let slide.

She thought she knew him. She thought he was hers.

Asher’s been her constant, her everything, for as long as she can remember. The boy next door who she used to finger paint with when they were kids. The boy who held her hand when she was anxious on the first day of middle school. The boy who kissed her for the first time in eighth grade, on one of the picnic tables at their neighborhood park.

He’s the only boy she’s ever thought about, ever wanted, ever loved. She built her future around him in her head—her dreams of getting married, of starting a life together, of building something that would last forever.

Forever.

The word feels bitter in her mouth now, a cruel joke. She can feel the cracks forming in her heart, the fissures that threaten to split her in half.

When Asher finally walks out of her bedroom, his shoes tied and on, he looks at her, his face unreadable. Jo avoids his gaze, focusing on the door instead. “Come on,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He follows her without a word, and they step out into the hallway, the soft click of the door closing behind them echoing in the stillness. They have to do this outside; Jo doesn’t want to wake up Paige.

The Jacobson girl stops a few steps from the door, turning to face Asher. She keeps her grip on his phone, her fingers trembling now despite her best efforts to stay composed. Asher stands there, his hand shoved into his pockets, his eyes darting between her face and the phone. She can see it in his posture now, the way his shoulders are tense, the way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. He knows.

But he doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for her to speak first, and for a moment, she almost can’t. She stares at him, her lips parted but no sound coming out, her throat tight and dry.

She doesn’t want to do this.

But she has to.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she takes a deep breath, the sound shaky and uneven in the quiet hallway. Her voice is soft, almost fragile, when she finally speaks.

“So, her name’s Brooke?”

The moment the words leave her mouth, Jo watches as Asher’s expression crumbles. His face twists, guilt flashing so obviously across his features that she doesn’t even need to hear him confirm it. But then he does, stumbling over his words in a rush to apologize.

“Jo, I—God, I messed up. It was a mistake, okay? It—it only happened once, I swear.”

For a second, she just stares at him, her mind short-circuiting as it processes the words. Her heart feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, cracking with every beat, and yet she somehow still finds the strength to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. She gives him a look then, one that she knows has to cut deep.

“Why are you still lying?” she asks, her voice quieter now, but sharper, trembling at the edges. “I looked through your texts. You’ve been seeing her since September.”

The tears in her eyes blur her vision slightly, but she can still see the way his face falls completely at her words. His mouth opens, like he’s about to defend himself, about to deny it or say something—anything—that might patch up the gaping wound he’s just ripped open. But no words come out. Jo can tell he’s scrambling now, reaching for an explanation, a lifeline, but nothing comes.

Jo lets out a small, bitter laugh that feels foreign to her, a sound so unlike the person she usually is. Her body feels cold, her chest hollow, like everything inside her has been scooped out and left her with nothing but this raw, gnawing ache.

Her voice wavers as she speaks again, the tears finally slipping free, her composure fracturing under the weight of it all. “If you wanted to break up for college, we could’ve. You could’ve just told me that long distance would be too hard and you wanted to see other people. I would’ve—I would’ve understood.” Her voice cracks at the end, and she hates how small she sounds, how stupid she feels. She’s giving him too much credit, too much grace, but she doesn’t know how to be any other way.

“You didn’t have to cheat on me,” she continues, her voice rising a little now, her hurt spilling over into anger, “and then—then pretend like you still love me.”

The tears come faster now, hot and unrelenting, but she doesn’t wipe them away. She lets them fall, lets him see the full weight of what he’s done.

Asher steps toward her then, closing the space between them, his hands reaching out as if to comfort her. “Jo,” he says desperately. “I do love you. I love you so much. I’m so fucking in love with you, okay? I just—” he pauses, choking before continuing, “—you weren’t around, and I was missing you so much, and you’ve been so busy with basketball—”

She steps back before he can touch her, shaking her head, her voice cutting through his excuses. “—when then gives you the right to have sex with another girl? To tell her she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?”

Her words seem to hit him like a physical blow, his face paling as he shuts up. Jo doesn’t stop, though. Her voice is sharp now, full of a fury she rarely ever allows herself to feel.

“I saw the texts,” she says again, now shoving the phone back into his hands. Her breath hitches as another sob escapes her throat. “It doesn’t really seem like you still love me when you’re talking to someone else like that.”

Jo feels the air in her lungs grow heavier. The hallway is too quiet, every sound—her shallow breaths, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead—feels deafening in the stillness between them. Asher stares at her, his lips once again parting and closing uselessly, trying to find words that might somehow undo all of this.

“Jo, please,” he says finally, his voice thin and frantic, like he’s clutching at straws. “It didn’t mean anything—she doesn’t mean anything. I was lonely, okay? I was missing you so much, Jo, so much, and I just—I made a mistake. A huge mistake. But it doesn’t change how much I love you.”

His words hit her like a stab to the chest. The sheer audacity of them leaves her feeling sick, like her body can’t keep up with the reality of what’s happening.

“Why would anyone do this to someone they love?” she asks slowly.

Asher shakes his head, stepping toward her again, but Jo takes another step back, hitting the wall. She’s never felt so trapped—trapped between the ghost of what they were and the cruelness of what they’ve become.

“It wasn’t like that,” he says, his hands gesturing wildly, desperate to make her understand. “You were always on my mind, Jo. You’re always on my mind. But you weren’t there, and I was—God, I was so fucking stupid.”

Her chest tightens, a sob clawing it’s way up her throat. “You knew I wouldn’t be there!” she says loudly. “You knew since I committed nearly two years ago! That’s why I’m saying you could’ve just broken up with me before we both went to college instead of doing—this!” She gestures to the phone in his hand, the tears still spilling freely down her cheeks, mixing with her mascara. She probably looks insane.

Asher takes another step closer, and Jo flinches without meaning to. She sees the way his face crumples at her reaction.

“Jo, I’m sorry,” he says pleadingly. “I’ll do anything—anything to make it up to you. Please, baby, I’ll never talk to her again. I’ll block her, I’ll delete her number, I’ll—”

Jo cuts him off, shaking her head violently. “It’s not about Brooke!” she cries, the name tearing through her like glass. “It’s about you! It’s about the fact that you lied to me, that you betrayed me, that you’ve been doing this for months! It’s about the fact that you’ve made me feel like I’m not even enough for you anymore.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says weakly.

Jo lets out a noise between a laugh and a sob. “Well, you did,” she tells him firmly.

She doesn’t know when she starts crying harder, but suddenly, her body is wracked with sobs, her chest heaving as everything she’s been holding in comes pouring out. She can hardly even breathe.

And then Asher’s dropping to his knees in front of her, his hands reaching for here. “Jo, baby, please,” he begs, tears forming in his own eyes. “Please, let me make it up to you. I’ll transfer if you want me to—I’ll come here, be closer. I just—I love you. I love you so much. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose us.”

His hands are warm against hers, but she barely feels it through the numbness creeping into her limbs. She stares down at him, her vision blurred with tears, and for a moment, she thinks about all the years they spent together. When they were younger, when they were older. Every moment, every memory—they flash before her eyes like a cruel montage of everything they’ll never be again.

Jo pulls her hands away from his, her chest aching like it’s being ripped in half. Her voice is small, barely above a whisper, but it’s absolute. “No matter what, I’ll never be able to trust you again,” she says, the finality of her words settling heavily between them. “I can’t have a relationship with no trust, Ash. I love you—I’ve always loved you—but I can’t do it. I can’t.”

The words ring out and, for a moment, they stay where they are. And then Jo turns and opens the door to the apartment. Her fingers tremble against the knob as she pushes it open, but she doesn’t stop. She can feel the way Asher stands from his knees behind her, hovering a mix of desperate and disbelief radiating off him like a suffocating heat. She steps inside, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her, and she doesn’t turn back to look at him when she hears his footsteps following her.

“Jo, please,” Asher says again, his voice cracking, the way it always does when he’s on the verge of tears. “Let’s just—keep talking, okay? I’ll do whatever you want, just… don’t do this.”

But there’s nothing left to talk about. Not now. Not after everything.

Jo’s head pounds as she crosses the room, her eyes scanning for the things he’ll need to leave. His coat is slung on the back of one of the chairs, and his keys and wallet sit on the table. She grabs both, her hands shaking, and turns back to him.

“Asher,” she says, raw and unsteady, “please.” She holds out the coat and keys to him, her arm outstretched like it’s the only way she can keep any distance between them. “If you love me like you say you do, please leave. Please.”

He doesn’t take them at first. He just stands there, staring at her with wide, red-rimmed eyes that make him look younger than he is, like the boy she used to know. Her next-door neighbor, the boy who used to race her to the ice cream truck every summer. The boy who brought her flowers from his mom’s garden the first time he asked her to a school dance in eighth grade, nervously holding them out to her like they were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. The boy who kissed her on the Ferris wheel, telling her he’d never seen anything prettier than the way the lights reflected in her eyes.

Jo thought that boy was perfect.

But now, that boy is clearly gone.

“So this is really it?” Asher asks, his voice barely a whisper. He finally takes the coat and keys from her, his movements slow, almost mechanical, like he’s not fully in his body. His words hang in the air, heavy and final, and Jo feels like they have hands and they’re suffocating her.

She bites her lip hard, the metallic tang of blood sharp on her tongue. A sob claws at her throat, but she swallows it down, refusing to let it out. Because—God—she doesn’t want this to be it. She doesn’t want to end this chapter of her life, doesn’t want to say goodbye to the person who’s been by her side through everything. She thinks about all the time they’ve spent together, the endless summers of childhood spent chasing fireflies in their backyards, the countless nights they stayed up late talking about everything and nothing. She thinks about the way he used to cheer for her at every basketball game, the way his laugh uses to make her feel like the world wasn’t so big and scary.

But then she thinks about the texts. Brooke. The lies. The betrayal. The pain of knowing that the person she loved most in the world didn’t love her enough to stay faithful. And she knows—she knows—that she can’t stay with him. Not after this.

So, with a terrible, gut-wrenching finality, Jo forces herself to meet his eyes. Seafoam. She’ll never look at them the same again. “Yeah,” she tells him. “It is.”

Asher flinches like she’s just slapped him, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something else, like he’s going to keep fighting. But then his shoulders sag, and the fight leaves his body all at once. He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, and the sheer heartbreak in his expression nearly undoes her.

Jo takes a shaky breath and steps toward the door, her movements stiff and unnatural, like her body doesn’t belong to her anymore. She holds the door open and watches as Asher hesitates, lingering in the threshold like he’s waiting for her to change her mind.

“Um,” she starts, staring at the floor, unable to meet his eyes anymore. “I’m not gonna be back in Boston for break. I’ll be on that ski trip with my family. So, uh, when they get back, you just… you get your stuff from the house and bring mine back to them, okay?”

For a long, excruciating moment, Asher just stands there, staring at her like he’s trying to memorize every detail of her face. Then, finally, he nods. “Okay,” he says quietly.

He steps out into the hallway, and Jo closes the door behind him with trembling hands. The moment the latch clicks into place, she presses her back against the door, her knees nearly buckling. She buried her face in her hands and keys the sobs come.

PAIGE LIES in Celeste’s bed, staring at the ceiling, her body tangled in soft sheets that smell faintly of sex and Celeste’s perfume. The room is dark except for the faint orange glow of the streetlamp outside the window, cutting through the blinds and casting uneven stripes across her skin. Celeste is already asleep, her breathing slow and steady beside her, an arm draped lazily over Paige’s stomach.

The weight of the arm feels suffocating. The room feels too still, too warm, and Paige can feel the alcohol from earlier churning in her stomach. She hadn’t realized how much she drank until she laid down, the world tilting slightly when she closed her eyes. She shifts uncomfortably, trying to focus on anything but the growing nausea.

Her phone sits on the nightstand, and she reaches for it, squinting at the brightness when the screen lights up. 3:08 AM. Jo and Asher should be asleep by now, she thinks. The thought is a small relief, though she hates that it’s on her mind at all. When she’d come here earlier—straight from Ted’s—it wasn’t just for Celeste’s company. It was to avoid them. Avoid the sight of them fueled up on the couch, or worse, the sound of them behind Jo’s closed bedroom door.

But lying here now, with the alcohol making her stomach roil and Celeste’s soft breathing only amplifying the pounding in her head, Paige knows she can’t stay. She hates being sick, hates it even more when it happens in someone else’s space.

Carefully, she moves Celeste’s arm off of her, sliding out of bed with practiced quiet. She pulls on her jeans and shirt, then her coat, then slips on her sneakers and grabs her phone. By the time she’s in the hallway, she’s regretting every drink she had tonight.

The walk back to the apartment feels endless. The streets are deserted, the air sharp and cold against her flushed skin. She shoves her hands into her coat pockets, her breath visible in the air. Her head spins with every step, her stomach twisting tighter and tighter until—without much warning—she’s doubled over, throwing her guts up into a bush. It’s humiliating, even though no one’s there to see it.

But after, she feels marginally better. Her legs are still shaky, and her throat burns, but the nausea ebbs, replaced by exhaustion. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, cursing herself under her breath, and resumes the walk home.

When she gets to the apartment, it’s quiet. Thank God. She lets herself in carefully, taking care not to let the door slam, and moves toward the bathroom in the dark. She brushes her teeth quickly before going to her bedroom. There, she toes off her shoes, drops her phone onto her own nightstand, and collapses into bed. The sheets are cold, her pillow soft, and she burrows into them, hoping sleep will come quickly.

It doesn’t.

Instead, Paige ends up staring at her phone, her thumb absently scrolling through TikTok, then Instagram, then TikTok again.

It’s probably a half hour later when she hears footsteps outside her room. She doesn’t think much of it, only registers that Jo and Asher are awake. She thinks she hears the apartment door open, but she can’t really tell. She just resumes her scrolling.

Maybe another twenty minutes pass before she hears the door reopen. There are voices this time, too—Jo and Asher’s. They’re too low to make out what they’re saying, but there’s something off about the tone.

Paige feels her stomach twist again, though this time it has nothing to do with alcohol.

She tries to ignore it, forcing herself to keep scrolling, but the voices continue. Then, suddenly, the sound of the apartment door shutting—loud enough to make her flinch.

Paige sits up in bed. She stares at her closed bedroom door, debating. Curiosity—and something heavier—wins out. Slowly, cautiously, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands.

The floor is cold beneath her bare feet as she crosses to the door. She hesitates for a moment, hand on the knob, before turning it and pulling the door open. She steps into the hallway, walking slowly at first, unsure of what to expect. But as she rounds the corner, the sight in front of her makes her heart twist painfully in her chest.

Jo is pressed against the front door, her back flat against it as though it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Her face is buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling with sobs that Paige can hear from a few feet away. The sound cuts through her like a knife, raw and unrelenting.

Paige’s stomach drops, dread pooling deep and cold inside her. She can count on one hand the number of times she’s seen Jo cry, and not even the panic attack she had before the first game of the season looked like this. The sight freezes her for a second, but then she’s moving, instinctively, her feet carrying her closer without hesitation.

“Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice a little unsteady as she steps in front of her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She hates seeing Jo like this, hates the helplessness it churns up in her. Jo’s supposed to sunshine and rainbows and butterflies and happiness. Seeing her like this, crumpled and sobbing, feels wrong, like the world has tilted off its axis.

Paige notices, too, that Asher is nowhere to be found, and her stomach knots tighter at the implication. There are only a few reasons why Jo would be crying like this in the middle of the night, and Paige doesn’t like any of the possibilities running through her mind.

She steps closer, only inches away from Jo. She gently reaches out to tug Jo’s hands away from her face. The brunette resists at first, her fingers curling tighter, as if she’s trying to shield herself from the world. But Paige persists, her touch gentle but firm, until Jo lets her pull them down.

She looks wrecked, utterly and completely undone. Her mascara is streaked across her cheeks, smudging into the skin where her tears have carved wet paths. Her lips are trembling, and her eyes—red-rimmed and glassy—hold a look of devastation that Paige has never seen before.

Paige’s stomach drops a little. This isn’t just a bad night. This is something worse.

“Joey,” Paige says again, her voice soft but coaxing. “Joey, talk to me. What happened?”

Jo shakes her head violently, fresh tears spilling over her cheeks. “I feel so stupid,” she chokes out.

Paige’s protective instincts kick in hard, a fierce surge of anger and worry burning in her chest. Jo is her best friend, and Paige can’t stand seeing her like this, so small and hurt and vulnerable. It makes her want to fix it, to fix everything, to hunt down whatever or whoever made Jo feel like this and give them a piece of her mind.

“You’re not stupid,” Paige says quickly, her hands moving to Jo’s face. She cups her cheeks gently, her thumbs brushing over the tears as they fall, even though it’s futile. The tears keep coming, harder and faster, and Jo’s sobs are so harsh now that Paige worries she’s going to make herself sick.

“Jo,” Paige whispers, her tone soothing, steady. “Joey, you’re not stupid. Just tell me what happened. Please.”

Jo looks at her then, and the brokenness in her expression hits Paige like a tidal wave. Jo’s breaths are short and uneven, catching in her throat as she struggles to speak. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she manages to force out a choked answer:

“He’s been cheating on me since September.”

Paige isn’t sure how to react at first. Not because she doesn’t care—no, she cares too much—but because it feels incomprehensible. Asher? Cheating? On Jo? It’s like trying to convince herself the sky isn’t blue or that the sun doesn’t rise in the east. Jo is the kind of person who radiates light, who gives more than she takes, who makes everyone around her better by simply existing. The idea that anyone—anyone, let alone Asher, who Jo has loved since they were kids—could betray her like this? Paige’s chest tightens, a painful knot forming deep inside her.

“Oh, Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice breaking. She steps forward without thinking, wrapping her arms around Jo and pulling her in close. Jo is stiff at first, her body trembling like she’s holding herself together by a thread. But then she leans into Paige, her arms coming around her back, and she crumples completely.

The sobs come harder now, racking Jo’s body as she buries her face in Paige’s shoulder. Paige can feel her shirt dampening with tears, but she doesn’t care. Not even a little. All that matters is keeping Jo held together in this moment when she clearly feels like she’s falling apart. Paige’s chin rests against Jo’s hair, and she squeezes her tighter, as if that might somehow protect her from all of this—might take away the pain.

Her mind flashes to Asher, and the anger that surges through her is immediate, white-hot, and consuming. How the fuck could he do this? Asher, who seemed to adore Jo, who, just earlier tonight, had looked at her like the world revolved around her. He’s the guy everyone thought Jo would marry, the guy Paige didn’t want to like because of her own feelings for Jo but begrudgingly respected because he seemed like he loved her. Paige’s fists clench at the thought of him, the betrayal he’s inflicted on someone so good, so perfect.

Jo pulls back just enough to speak, her voice trembling through the sobs. “I just—I don’t get it,” she chokes out. Her hands are fisted in the back of Paige’s shirt now, clutching at her like she’s a lifeline. “He never seemed like—he would do that. He was never distant or anything. I—I don’t know. It’s just—it’s been us forever. He’s—he’s literally all I know.”

Paige closes her eyes for a moment, biting back her own emotions. She knows this—of course she knows this. Jo and Asher are the couple everyone compares themselves to, the pair who grew up together, who went to prom together, who everyone thought would get married and have a picturesque life together. Paige knows this betrayal isn’t just about the cheating—it’s about the loss of something Jo has held onto her entire life.

And as much as Paige didn’t want to like Asher, she can’t deny that even tonight, when they were all together, he seemed so in love with Jo. He didn’t seem like the type to cheat. Then again, Paige thinks bitterly, a lot of them don’t.

Paige hesitates, her voice careful. “Did you…?” She doesn’t have to finish the question; Jo knows what she’s asking.

Jo nods against Paige’s shoulder, her tears warm against Paige’s skin. “Yeah,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I broke up with him.”

Paige lets out a slow breath, one she didn’t realize she was holding. She always thought if this moment ever came, she’d feel something else—relief, maybe even happiness. She thought it would mean she finally had a chance with Jo, that the door might crack open. But as Jo sobs in her arms, as her heartbreak bleeds out into the quiet hallway, Paige feels none of that.

Because Jo isn’t happy. She’s broken, and Paige would rather suffer her unrequited feelings forever than see Jo like this. All she’s ever truly wanted is for Jo to be happy, to be the kind of happy that lights up her eyes and makes her laugh the way she does when she’s teasing Paige. This? This is not that.

Paige pulls back just enough so they’re face to face. Her hands come up to Jo’s cheeks once more, cradling her face gently. Jo’s eyes are red and swollen, tears still spilling over. Paige’s thumbs brush over her cheeks, wiping away some of the tears, though they’re still coming faster than she can catch them.

“Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice low and firm, “you are the most beautiful, selfless, talented, smart person I’ve ever fucking met. You don’t deserve any of this, okay? He doesn’t deserve you. Not even close.” She shakes her head slightly, her throat tightening as she continues. “I’m so sorry, Jo.”

Jo nods slowly, her breath hitching as she tries to calm down, but the tears are still there, streaming down her face.

Eventually, Paige convinces Jo to come with her, leading the brunette to her bedroom, keeping a steady hand on the small of her back as they navigate the dark hallway. Paige can feel the exhaustion radiating off of her in waves—emotional, physical, every kind of tired there is. She figures Jo doesn’t want to go to her own room, where everything probably still smells like Asher. And Paige figures Jo doesn’t want to be alone, either. That much is obvious in the way she stays close, almost leaning into Paige as they walk.

Once inside Paige’s room, Jo hesitates by the bed, looking small in a way Paige isn’t used to seeing. Jo’s always been the kind of person who fills up a space just by being in it—confident, easygoing, happy. Now, she’s quiet and folded into herself, arms crossed protectively over her chest like she’s trying to hold herself together. Paige doesn’t like it.

“Stay here for a sec, yeah?” Paige says softly, her voice careful, like she’s afraid to push Jo too far or say the wrong thing. Jo nods, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and Paige slips out of the room.

She goes to the bathroom first, grabbing some makeup wipes from the cabinet. Her mind races as she moves, filled with anger toward Asher, with concern for Jo, with guilt that a small, selfish part of her is glad to have Jo here, with her, instead of with him.

On her way back, she detours into Jo’s room just long enough to grab the emotional support stuffed animal—Bubbles. She tucks the little turtle under her arm and heads back to her room.

Jo hasn’t moved. She’s still sitting there, looking at her hands, the way her fingers twist together nervously. Paige kneels in front of her, setting Bubbles aside for now. She doesn’t say anything at first; she just takes one of the makeup wipes and gently starts to clean the streaks of mascara from Jo’s face. Jo blinks in surprise, a ghost of a smile flickering across her lips.

“I could’ve done it myself,” Jo mumbles, her voice thick and uneven.

“I know,” Paige says simply, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at her own lips.

It’s a quiet, intimate thing, wiping away Jo’s makeup. Paige works slowly, carefully, brushing over her skin with a tenderness she hopes Jo can feel. When she’s finished, she tosses the wipes aside into her mini trash can and hands Jo the stuffed turtle.

Jo takes Bubbles with both hands, clutching him close to her chest. There’s a tiny moment of relief in Paige’s chest when Jo actually smiles a little at the sight of him. It’s fleeting, but it’s there.

Paige climbs onto the bed beside her, hesitating for a second. The air between them feels heavy, uncertain. Jo curls up on her side, facing away from Paige, and for a moment, Paige wonders if she should leave her alone, give her space. But before she can decide, Jo’s voice breaks through the silence, shaky and fragile.

“Can you—can you just hold me?”

Paige’s heart clenches. Of course. Of course, she can. “Yeah,” she says softly, already shifting closer.

She slides in behind Jo, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her hand comes to rest gently on Jo’s stomach, fingers brushing over the fabric of her shirt in smooth, soothing patterns. Paige doesn’t think much about it; she just does what feels natural. Her face ends up close to the back of Jo’s neck, and she can feel the faint hitch in Jo’s breathing, the way it stutters each time another quiet sob escapes her.

Every time Jo shakes or cries, Paige instinctively tightens her hold, pulling her closer, letting her know she’s there. Jo doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Paige. The silence is filled with the faint rustle of the blankets, the sound of their breathing.

Paige focuses on the rise and fall of Jo’s chest, on the feeling of her heartbeat beneath her hand. It’s comforting, in a way, even though everything about the situation feels wrong. Jo deserves better than this—better than Asher, better than heartbreak. And if Paige could take it all away, if she could somehow absorb all of Jo’s pain just to see her smile again, she would.

But all she can do is hold her, keep her safe in this moment. So she does. She stays there, tracing patterns on Jo’s stomach, her own breathing falling in time with Jo’s. Eventually, Jo’s crying slows, her breaths evening out into something softer, something closer to sleep. Paige doesn’t let go.

She feels her own eyelids growing heavy, the exhaustion of the day—and mostly the night—catching up to her. She doesn’t remember exactly when she drifts off, but the last thing she’s aware of is the warmth of Jo in her arms, the quiet sound of her breathing, and the hope that maybe things will feel a little better in the morning.

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - two (j.yh); section two

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you’ve never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he’s so much more than a crush, he’s your soulmate.one | two (section 1); (*section two) | three | four 🔗read on ao3 ✨across stardust pinterest board

note: i hope everyone enjoys this chapter. it's wildly fluffy and wildly romantic, and then deliciously smutty so i hope everyone enjoys. **this part was too long for tumblr's new word count guidelines! please check out the FIRST half of this part, here!

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, suggestive language, allusions to a past ex who pressured her into things she wasn't ready for, anxiety etc., and finally the smut; heavy makeouts, grinding, oral f!receiving, convos about oral m!receiving, lots of fingering, lots of cock touching, earth shattering soulmate sex, rough sex, soft!dom/pleasure!dom yunho and wide eyed sub!reader, heavy on the dirty talk, HEAVY on the praise. we got a lot of good girls in this one, and good god tagging for gratuitous use of pet names from yunho. lots of missionary and missionary adjacent positions, spooning sex to idk he's on his back and she's on top but laying on him it's hard to describe but by god is it hot please enjoy

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 28.1k

**did you read section one of part two yet? if not, click here!!

Slowly, ever so slowly, the hazy cloud starts to lift. You’re both still shaking, Yunho hiding in your shoulder, his lips brushing against your pulsepoint as he comes back down from his high. Your fingers are locked tightly on his back still, legs pinning him to your pelvis, and it takes time for you to breathe through the last bits of dizziness and start to feel some kind of normal again. 

Finally you feel him exhale out an intentional breath and kiss your shoulder before pressing up on his forearms to look down at you, “Am I crushing you?” He lifts a bit of his body weight off, but you keep your arms locked. 

“Don’t go,” You say, holding him steady. 

He smiles dreamily, and shakes his head, “Not going anywhere,” 

Your legs fall slack on either side of him and you let your hands slide down to rest on his chest, “Good,” 

His eyes flick down over your bodies, to where you’re still connected hip to hip and with the fog of your newly cemented bond lifted, you feel a pang of his concern, “Did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head, smoothing your hand over his chest, “Mm-mm,” 

“You sure?” He takes one of your hands in his and gently kisses your knuckles. 

“You would have felt it if you did,” You remind him, “looks like we were right, we really were made for each other,” 

He rolls his eyes and smiles at your soft teasing, “Uh-huh,” 

You thread your fingers with his and tug him back down to where you rest in the pillows, kissing him as you do, “Mm,” you sigh, “do you think it will feel like that every time?” 

“If it does,” He laughs, “I’ll never make it out of this bed, I better resign now,” 

You nudge him, “Not funny,” 

“It’s a little funny,” He kisses you again, “but maybe I should, just keep you right here on my cock all day,” 

You shiver at his words, “And I’m the tease,” 

He laughs a little but squeezes your hand, “If it feels like that every time, I’m not teasing,” 

Your stomach flips pleasantly at his words, “Well,” your fingers skate down his chest, “we do have three days,” 

“That’s true,” He murmurs, his brow quirking playfully as he pecks a kiss to your lips, “do you have any objections to me keeping you right here?” 

You shake your head, “We’ll have to eat at some point, though,” 

“I’m pretty sure we can manage having sex in the kitchen,” He nips at your lip.

“My kitchen’s pretty small,” 

“I’m very creative,” He counters, his kisses traveling down your jaw now. 

You sigh, breathy as his tongue catches on your throat, “W-where else?” 

He huffs a laugh, “Shower,” 

“Of course,” 

“Couch,” His teeth tug gently at your earlobe and your muscles flutter and clench. Yunho groans lightly, and you feel his cock start to stiffen up inside you again. 

“And then?” Unconsciously, your legs start to widen just a little more. 

“The wall,” His voice is low and warm in your ear, “how see-through is that window, anyways?” 

Your eyes roll and you twitch under him, fingers tightening on his skin, “It’s reflective glass, you c-can’t see through it,” 

Yunho hums pleasantly, sucking at the pulsepoint of your neck and sending a shock of heat down your body, and you feel him start to stiffen up inside you again. A little breathy sound bubbles from your lips, and his hips grind down into yours just a little. His jaw tightens, muscles tense, and you feel him rock hard again and pressing insistently at all your sweet spots. 

“A-again?” You shiver. 

“Baby,” He sighs and chuckles, “all night,” 

Part of you thinks he’s kidding about that, but with that look in his eyes you know he’s more than serious. 

“Usually I’d need a little bit,” He admits, shifting up to his knees and dragging his hands down your body, “but you make me crazy,” 

You nod, moaning as his cock shifts inside you with the position change. Nothing has ever filled you like this, felt like this. The stretch is delicious, the way he seems to reach the tenderest places in your cunt that makes you see stars. The dizziness from the bonding a moment ago has dissipated, but the searing heat is still there, and you shiver, his fingertips skating over your tattoo before his hands find a home on your hips. 

“What do you say, baby? Can you take me again?” His hips pulse slowly, a torturous drag in and out to tease you. 

“Fuck yes,” You moan, one hand flying up to the wall behind you to brace yourself. 

“God, you sound pretty,” He pulses his hips again, punching a surprised moan from your throat, “exactly like that, I’m addicted to that sound.” 

He’s so verbal now that you’re not both swimming in the sensation of your newly forged bond, that night on the phone really was just a glimpse into who your partner is behind closed doors, his idol persona left on the concert hall floor. 

”J-just like that,” You nod, gripping the sheets. 

“Like that?” He teases, dragging you down onto his cock with his hands on your hips, “Yeah?” 

You moan again, “Harder,” 

“Fuck,” He curses, hands tight, sure to bruise, “we’re going to be so good together, aren’t we?” 

Before you can respond, he answers your plea with his hips, picking up the pace so that each pulse forward is met with the drag down of your body, connecting your bodies with firm, sharp snaps, the sound wet and wanton. 

“Y-yes, yes,” You all but sob, pleasure arcing through your belly and a fresh sheen of sweat breaking over your brow. 

Yunho groans, roughly fucking into you in just the way you needed, his body slick with sweat and glistening in the low light, his muscles flexing and relaxing with every snap of his hips. 

His mouth falls open, thumbs digging into your belly where he grips your waist, “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” 

Your cunt clenches, “You feel so good,” 

“That’s my good girl,” He breathes, his eyes hazy and lips parted as he watches you coming apart beneath him. 

You moan hard at the praise, your belly fluttering and clenching at the memory of how he talked to you that first time. You’ve thought of it dozens of times, desperate for exactly this, “Yes,” you whine, “I love when you call me that. Love when you talk to me like that,” 

Yunho shudders, his hips stuttering in pace and he groans, “Yeah?” 

“Don’t stop,” You reach for him, nails brushing over his skin as you try to get your hands on him. 

“Not stopping,” He assures you, but his hips do slow as he says, “what else do you like, hmm?” 

You can feel his curiosity, and his arousal too, the way he wants to know every button that makes you tick. Your slick channel pulses around his cock and you sigh in the sheets, “What do you think I like?” 

A half smile quirks his lips and he slows his pace to a stop, “Are you trying to tease me?” 

Your cheeks heat, caught under the exactness of his gaze and the rolling ripple of arousal through your body. 

“Cute,” He murmurs again, but he rolls his hips once hard to make you moan, “so pretty when you moan for me,” 

“God,” You have to pull your eyes away. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” He brushes your hips with gentler hands. 

“I’m not,” You drop a hand over your face.  

“You’re blushing, baby,” His fingers loop under yours and pull your hand away from your eyes. 

“Don’t pretend it doesn’t turn you on,” You counter, “I can feel you,” 

“Oh?” He quirks a brow, rolling his hips, “You can feel me?” 

“Shut up,” You groan, flutters rolling through your abdomen.

“Let’s see if I can make you really embarrassed, hmm?” 

“Yunho,” You manage, but you’re caught under him, the press of his hips and the firm pressure of his hands.

”You’re mine, right?” His fingers skate over your body as he adjusts himself onto his knees between your splayed open thighs, “You trust me?” 

Anticipation buzzes inside you, your mouth running dry. In this position you’re completely exposed, his eyes raking over your every inch, and when his tongue darts out to wet his lips with his tongue, your breath quickens

“Do you?” He prompts softly. 

“Y-yes,” 

He smirks a little, and then he settles on his heels and squeezes your thighs, “You like when I grab you,” he says, “I can feel your little jolt of excitement every time I do this.” He squeezes again for good measure, and just like he said your stomach jumps. 

“You’re my soulmate,” You sigh, “of course I like it when you touch me,” 

“Mm,” He nods, his hands skating up your skin until he’s cupping your breasts, “fair, how about this?” 

You soften, “That’s nice,” 

“And this?” He squeezes a little and you swallow to keep your composure, but when he finds both your nipples with his thumb and forefinger to give them a gentle pinch, you pant, “This?” 

He watches your eyes go glassy, and you’re sure he can feel the liquid fire pooling in your belly. 

He pinches them again, this time adding a little more pressure and tugging them upwards a bit before he releases. 

You moan sharply, fingers locking down on the bedding beneath you at the sharp zing that passed from your chest to your achingly neglected clit. 

“Is that nice, baby?” He tugs again, “Or am I being too rough with you?” 

He’s teasing you, and you shiver, “Not too rough,” 

The muscle in his jaw tightens but he lets that pass, cataloguing it and moving on, “And I think we’ve already established you like my hands,” 

“No surprise there,” You sigh. 

“My fingers?” He slides his hands up, and your heart starts to beat faster in your chest. Yunho settles one broad hand at the base of your throat, his fingers circling your neck gently. He doesn’t apply any pressure, but the way his thumb and index finger brace each side of your jaw has you trembling in his hold. 

You swallow, throat bobbing against his palm. 

“You do,” He murmurs, his voice a little rougher. With his opposite hand, he ever so gently touches your lips with the pads of his fingers, and like you’ve done it for him a thousand times before you let your mouth fall open. 

He drags his fingers over the curve of your lower lip again, and your cunt spasms around his cock where it's still buried inside you. He smiles at your reaction and then he hooks two of his fingers over your lip, resting on your teeth. 

You gasp sharply, your tongue pressing against the pads of his fingers. 

He waits, his patience a challenge, and then you melt. You dip your head forwards to accept his fingers into your mouth, letting them slide back on your tongue, your lips closing around them so that when you drag your head back you can suck them just a little. 

You can taste yourself on his skin and he groans, “Good girl,” 

Your core clenches again, but as his fingers slip free from your mouth you pulse your muscles again to tease him this time, “You’re easier to read than you think,” you tell him, “I know what you like too.” 

He smiles, full of cheek, and shifts back to roll his hips, “Yeah?” He slides his hand down, spreading it wide over your belly, “I like being inside you,” 

“You like,” You start but he shakes his head.

”I like being buried so deep I can feel it here,” He presses down with the heel of his hand and thrusts forwards, driving his cock into you, and the tight sensation of his cockhead punching into your g-spot leaves you moaning, all teasing forgotten at the sudden sensation of pleasure at his hands. 

Yunho drops over you properly now, gathering you back into his arms and pushing your legs back open wide with a tilt of your hips. He kisses you hard and then his hips start to pulse, “I like knowing this little pussy belongs to me,” 

“Oh, fuck,” You grip down hard on his shoulders. 

“That’s it,” He tips you back, rolling into you, “open up for me,” 

You moan hard, arching into him. 

“Fuck,” He curses low in your ear, “sweetheart, you feel incredible,” 

You nod into his shoulder, “S-so do you, don’t stop,”

“The best thing I’ve ever felt in my life” He manages. 

“Yunho, god,” 

“That’s right,” He slips a hand under our leg, sliding up the back of your thigh to pin you open, “so good,” 

Hot need arcs up your spine, belly tight with burgeoning pleasure, and you shudder a broken sob into his skin, “Please, please,” 

He thrusts hard, groaning with every jut of his hips, “Fuck,” he pants, “you want to know what I really like?” 

“Yes, yes,”

”I like you like this,” His kisses travel over your slick skin, “messy, begging for me,” 

“For you,” You babble almost mindlessly. 

“I like you coming,” He moans, “I could watch you come forever,” 

“Fuck, god,” Your head falls back to the mattress. 

“I want to make you lose yourself,” His pace steadies, and he drops his hand from your leg to the sheets for better leverage, “I want to watch you go so cockdrunk you don’t even know what sounds you’re making, how loud you’re being for me,” 

“Yunho, oh my god,” Your moan is rough, deep in your chest. 

He drops his forehead to your hair and nods, “Exactly like that,” 

Your body is starting to move on its own, your thighs trembling, and your hips canting upwards to catch more friction on your clit as he fucks you, and you whine in heady need. 

In a flash, his hips lock down hard, your body arching into his chest as you start to see the bursts of color behind your tightly shut eyes, but he doesn’t stop moving. Yunho grinds down, rocking his hips to give you extra pressure, and with needy jerks of your body you hump artlessly up into him, pleasure rolling up from your clit as he cock sits heavy and thick inside you. 

His lips connect with your ear as he drops his body weight over you, hands gathering you close, “That’s it, greedy girl,”

Sparks roll up your spine and you moan into his shoulder. 

“That’s it,” His hand slips down and cups your ass as you shudder, “take it, take it,” 

You gasp sharply, nails digging into his shoulders, “Oh, god, oh fuck,” 

“There she is,” He says hot at your cheek, his face leaving heavily against yours, “there’s my girl,” 

You moan, and he circles his hips, grinding deeper.

“You like taking every inch of me, baby?” He flicks your nipple sharply, “You like knowing you were made for me?” 

Your orgasm feels like it’s a breath away, ready to pull you open in a snap, and you sob beneath him, “M-more,” your head falls back as you scramble beneath him, heels digging into the mattress as you arch and try to bring yourself up and over the edge. 

“Come for me,” He kisses you, wet, fast, “come on babygirl,” 

“Ah, ah,” You press your eyes tight, holding him like a lifeline as you reach for it, “p-please, I want to come for you so bad,” 

“That’s it,” 

The pressure in your body builds, but you can’t reach it, and you ache to push your hands between your thighs. In a flash, his hands pulse on your skin, and he kisses you once more before pushing up and away from your body and drawing his cock halfway out of your aching center. 

“No, no,” You reach for him, eyes fluttering open in the hazy dim. 

On his knees once again he starts to rub your clit, his thumb pressing firm circles, the slick sound of it making your eyes roll back. 

“God,” You curse, a ripple of pleasure running through you like a spasm. 

He licks his lips, watching your face intently as he works your swollen bud, “Yeah? Do you need this to come?” 

The husky tone of his voice makes it sound like dirty talk, but you know he’s also asking for real, learning your body for the first time. You nod, “Usually, but, it’s not,”  

“Shh,” He pulls back, sliding his cock out of your wet warmth and kissing your knee before letting your legs fall slack to the mattress and shifting to your side, “I want to give you what you need,” 

“You are,” You tell him as he kisses you, nuzzling into you. 

“I can feel it,” He reminds you as he slides behind you, spooning you now and caging you in with his arms, “I know what you need, let me give it to you,” 

You shudder, melting as his hands slide over your body, “Mm,” you sigh, “I was j-just going to say I don’t think I need it with you,”

“But it’s better?” He asks, lifting your leg and hooking a hand under your knee. 

You angle your hips with an arch of your back, opening yourself to him, and gasp as he directs his cock back into your slick hole, “N-no,” You manage, “I don’t know,” 

He kisses your shoulder, “Let’s find out,” 

With a swift punch of his hips forwards he seats himself again and you moan, gripping down on the pillow under your cheek. 

“There we go,” He croons and you moan into his bicep. He hums, fingers teasing your slit as he pushes in and out, “is it better because I’m bigger?” 

“Yunho!” You gasp as he thrusts again, head falling back against the top of his chest. 

“Do I hit your sweet spots, jagi?” His voice is hoarse with his own need. 

“Yes, god,” You moan. 

“Tell me,” His middle finger finds your clit again, “say it,” 

You babble a response through a taut moan, “You’re so big,” 

“And?” He bites down on your shoulder, rubbing faster.

“You’re the,” You gasp as his hips punch back and forth sharply, “oh, fuck, yes, you’re the biggest cock I’ve ever had,” 

“Good girl,” He moans, “that’s my good girl,” 

Hot pleasure rolls through you at his words and you whine. 

“Feels good?” He teases. 

“So good,” You manage, “so, so good,” 

“Let go,” He kisses your cheek, gritting his teeth to focus on working you with his fingers an the steady pulse of his hips at the same time, “let it go and come,” 

Your hand flies to his forearm, gripping onto him as you cry out, and he pants behind you, kissing any part of your skin he can reach in this position.

“Good girl,” He murmurs low, “just hold onto me,” 

He slides his other hand from your knee to your hip to brace you steady and then he starts to adjust the pace of his hips, still slow, but firmer now so that every snap of his hips strikes a wet smacking drumbeat through the room as he circles his fingers on your slick clit. 

Heat rockets through you, your nails digging into his forearm, and then you feel it. Just a little more will take you right over the edge, and you choke out a breathless moan, “Please, please,” 

“Come,”

Your stomach tightens, legs trembling, and when it hits you crack open in his arms. The wave takes you just the same as before, and distantly through the ringing in your ears, you can hear the muttered pleas of Yunho as he feels the rush of your pleasure through the bond.

You’re boneless, both of you shaking, and then he wraps his arms around you properly and rolls onto his back, your body laid prone across his chest. His cock stays deep inside your pulsing core as you turn, but with a hiss he jerks his hips back and pulls out. 

“Baby, oh my god,” Your chest is heaving, and you reach back for him, finding his cheek. 

He’s quiet, shuddering beneath you.

“You didn’t come?” You manage, still breathless.

He shakes his head against yours, “Don’t want this to end too soon,” 

“We have days,” You tell him, “now please, I want you to feel good,” 

His hands tighten on your hips as he weighs your words, and then with a slow shift of his hips you feel his cock start to press at your entrance again. He slips home with ease, and you moan at the sudden stretch of him again, his cock thick and pulsing with his almost orgasm. 

“I,” He pulses his hips once and groans, “oh, I’m not going to last,” 

“Don’t stop,” You urge him again, “please, just take me,” 

He moans, his stomach tightening, and then he starts to move.

He’s pumping in and out of you now, pinning your back to his chest with his arms banded around you as he rolls his hips and you can feel the tether in him start to fray. He’s getting close, but even without the bond you’d know it. His breath is thready, a hot pant against your ear, and your bodies slide together with slick sweat. 

He feels unreal, stretching you wide with every rhythmic stroke, but you feel his heart hammer when your legs start to fall closed, your walls tightening around him. 

“You’re mine,” He breathes, “s-so beautiful for me,” 

“All yours,” You sigh, and this time with intention you draw your thighs tight together. 

The position is tangled, muscle straining and almost an accident, but suddenly his cock has never felt bigger or thicker or perfectly positioned to hit that spot again and again. He groans, and holds your hips firmly to bounce you back down into every thrust as he chases his release.

Your head falls back over his shoulder, and you reach up to brace yourself on the wall behind your heads, your other hand still cupping his cheek and holding his face to yours. 

“Shit,” He curses, “so tight, fuck, babygirl,” 

You moan, “Please, yes, yes,” 

“So tight and,” he babbles against your cheek, “fuck, still taking every inch of me,” 

“So deep,” You gasp as his pace increases, and your eyes slam shut, a bubbling snap of pleasure rolling up your spine.

”God, I’m,” He shudders, moaning in earnest now, “b-baby, I’m close,” 

You feel his need, suddenly striking you through the unmasked connection of the bond, and though he doesn’t ask you for anything, beg you at all, you know exactly what to give him. 

You moan, arching your back to take his cock inside just a little more with every stroke, “Yunho,” your fingers lace into his hair and you turn your head to find his ear, “come,” 

He huffs, fingers pressing bruises into your hips.

”I’m all yours,” You tell him, voice husky, “this pussy is all yours, all yours,” 

“Mine,” His hips snap harder, a punishing pace, and you feel the taut edge of his pleasure. 

“Made for your cock, baby,” 

“Fuck,” 

“No one’s ever fucked me like this,” You pant, knowing exactly what your words will do to him. 

He groans, burying his face in your shoulder.

”C-come inside me,” You beg, “make me yours,” 

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his hips erratic, “Mine, mine,” 

“Yes, baby, please,” You rock your hips, taking over the rolling motion where he’s started to falter. 

“I’m,” His words are cut off with a groan, and his hips slam up twice more before he holds himself in deep and you feel the hot sensation of his cum pumping inside you. 

His orgasm yanks you down into your own in an unexpected flash of sensation, your vision fuzzy, head dizzy, and your body jerks in ecstatic fits and starts as you moan, wanton and wordless in his ear. 

“One more,” He murmurs, recovering from his own heady orgasm faster than you, his hand pushing between your locked thighs, middle finger circling on your pulsing clit, “just one more,” 

Your hips jerk with overstimulation and you whine, “I can’t,”

”Yes,” He kisses your forehead, bracing your body with one and while his other blissfully tortures your aching cunt, “come on, sweetheart,” 

“Yunho, oh, oh, God,” Your orgasm stretches, his fingers cresting you straight up into another shuddering peak. 

His body curls around you, dipping to the side when you jerk, holding you into his chest as he works you through it. The sound of his tender voice carries you up, “There we go,” he croons, “oh, god I love you,” 

“C-Coming,” Is all you can manage, and your body folds in on itself, your orgasm white hot and almost painful. 

He shudders as he feels you finish, and slows his fingers, “Good girl, come. I love you so much, can you feel me inside you, baby?” 

You manage a nod, moaning into the sheets, riding it out with rocks of your hips until it turns from pleasure to sharp overstimulation and you whine, pushing his hand away. 

“I got you,” He wraps you up tight, spooning you from behind, “shh, you’re okay,” 

Trembling, you pull his arms to your chest, using him as your anchor as he shifts his hips and finally uncouples your bodies.

“You’re okay,” He repeats, “just breathe,” He kisses your hair softly, soothing you with gentle touches as your breath returns. 

“M-mhm,”

”You’re perfect,” His lips travel to your shoulder, “I love you,” 

“I love you too,” You murmur, resting your lips on his knuckles. 

“Love you, love you,” He mutters against your skin, and you sink into him, a contented smile on your lips. 

You lay wrapped up together for what feels like hours, both of you coming back into your bodies slowly. His arms slacken, and you slowly roll onto your front, cheek against the cool sheets as you recover from the whirlwind of bonding.

He murmurs sweetness against your spine, massages circles into your hips, and little by little your mind reconnects too. 

Yunho sidles down in the bed, cuddling you from behind, “Are you hungry, sweetheart?” 

You shake your head a little but you say, “Maybe a little,” 

“Let’s go downstairs, I’ll fix you something,” He says, even though it’s your apartment. 

You smile and shake your head again, “Five more minutes?” 

He kisses your shoulder and you feel him nod, “Five more minutes,” 

Cocooned in his warmth, and in the perfection of your bed, you let yourself relax. 

More than five minutes have come and gone when he finally speaks again. Yunho’s fingers skate up and down your spine, slowly tracing each vertebrae like he’s making a mental map of you, “When did you get your first one?” 

“Hmm?” You sigh, looking slightly over your shoulder at him. 

“Tattoo,” He clarifies, now ghosting his touch over the large crane on your back, “you have so many, but when did you start?” 

You stretch in the sheets, and roll towards him, shifting onto your back now and twisting your arm to show him the delicate lines of your first tattoo, English script in faded black. desire.

He passes the pad of his thumb over the lettering and the corner of his mouth quirks up. 

“Not because of the song,” You laugh softly, “I was seventeen,” 

“Hmm,” He lets his fingers travel up, studying more of your lines of ink, “young,” 

He traces the lines of the flowers, the fan, the stippled black and gray twisting across your skin. 

“I know,” You tug the sheet up a little higher, tucking it around your naked body to ward off some of the chill of your apartment, “I just wanted to do something reckless for once, but then once I started,” 

He nods, listening, waiting for more. 

“I think I wanted to get under my parent's skin,” You admit, “they were already so disappointed in me, so I thought why not give them something to be really disappointed in?” 

He frowns a little, a crease between his brows, “I hate that you felt like that,” 

“I’m okay now,” You promise him, “Hana and I rarely see them, just holidays and phone calls on birthdays, that kind of thing.” 

He nods, pressing a kiss to your hair, “Still,” 

You give him a tiny shrug, and you find yourself reaching up to your soul mark and brushing it, “For a while I was just running, from them and then from this,” 

“Your mark?” He asks softly.

 You nod, “It was a reminder of that house, of how much they didn’t believe in it. They never even wanted Hana and I to daydream about it, to wonder what it would be like to find our soulmate. They were so set on us following the path they laid out, and for a long time the mark was a reminder of what I wasn’t supposed to want.” 

He swallows tightly, and you feel his discomfort at your words, the flicker of anger in his gut. 

“I’m alright,” You continue, “but the tattoos started like that. First something to provoke them, and then something to distract myself from seeing this. I thought about covering it, but,” 

“You did?” His eyes widen. 

“I considered it,” You tuck your hand in his and give him a squeeze, “but then I realized that the farther I got from believing this could happen for me, the closer I got to what they wanted all along,” 

He studies your expression for a moment and then scoots closer, tucking your bodies together and cupping your cheek, “When did you start believing it could happen again?” 

You remember it so clearly, the pact you made with Iseul, the lines you wrote in your journal that year. You smile and look up at him, “When I got the job at KQ, Iseul and I went out for celebratory drinks when I received the offer letter,” 

His expression softens, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone.

”I decided it was time to grow up,” You explain, “so we agreed that we would date, have fun, and keep looking for the one, but we’d never settle down for less than our soulmate, no matter how long it took to find them.” 

Yunho dips towards you, kissing you tenderly, “I love you,” 

Tucking into his chest you nod, “I love you too,” 

His arms loop around you, cuddling you so that you’re nestled into his warmth, “For what it’s worth,” he murmurs, his fingers carding through your hair, “however you came to them, they’re beautiful, you’re beautiful,” 

A brief flicker of tears pricks the back of your eyes and you press a kiss to his sternum, “Thank you,” you kiss him again, “I love them now, and now I get them for myself,” 

He hums, nodding with his lips on the crown of your head, nuzzling you gently. 

For a moment it’s quiet, just your heart and his beating in time against each other, but then your stomach tightens as you realize something you’ve been neglecting.

 You sigh heavily, “I need to call Hana,” 

“You haven’t told her?” He asks, despite already knowing the answer.

 “No, have you told your brother?” 

His hand stills on your back, “I texted him,” 

Your eyebrows raise, “You texted him?” 

He nods, “Is that alright?” 

“Of course,” You say in a rush, “I just, I don’t know, I’m surprised.” 

“We don’t see each other often,” Yunho says, “but we’re close. It felt strange not telling him something this big in my life,”

You nod, “Exactly.” 

He brushes a hand up and down the length of your back again and then starts to untangle his body from yours, “How about this, can I use your shower?” 

“Sure,” You’re about to tell him where it is, all the little quirks, but he keeps going.

”After, I’ll run back to my place and pick up things for the next few days,” You strangely hate the idea of him leaving, but you know that was always part of the plan considering he didn’t bring anything with him, “while I’m busy give her a call,”

”It’s late,” You find yourself protesting. 

He smiles, “It’s not, you’re nervous,”

You rub at your chest, feeling the curl of anxiety there, “Yeah,” 

“She loves you,” Yunho reminds you as he pulls himself out of bed, “and she knows what having a soulmate feels like, she’s going to be so happy for you, for us.” 

“You’re right,” You breathe.

 “I know you miss her,” He adds softly, “and I know you want to tell her, let me give you the space to do that.” 

Warmth expands in your chest and all you can do is nod. 

He smiles wide, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then he stretches, “Alright, shower’s this way?” Yunho nods towards the obvious path towards the bathroom. 

You nod again, and he sighs, “Perfect,” 

He disappears down the hall and for a brief moment you’re alone with your thoughts. You let your gaze go unfocused towards the ceiling, and you just feel for a moment. You feel different, lighter and heavier at the same time, like all the cells in your body turned over at once, but the knotted rope between you and him feels thicker, corded, braided, unbreakably sure. 

For the first time in weeks, all of a sudden, you feel like you can call her. 

You rub your chest again, rolling out of bed and making your way across the lofted bedroom on slightly shaky legs before finding your robe on its familiar hook and wrapping it around yourself, a smooth silk in floral and dark red. With a deep breath, you pin up your hair and find your phone. The sound of running water comes through the bathroom door, so you make your way downstairs for a bit of privacy and to get a cool glass of water. Once you’re tucked into the familiar corner of your couch with a downy blanket over your lower half, you find Hana’s contact in your phone and you call. 

She picks up after a few rings, “Hello?” 

“Hey,” 

“Was your flight delayed?” She asks, her bright voice soothing you instantly, “You always call me when you get in,” 

“It wasn’t delayed,” You tell her honestly. 

“Ah,” She says, “did you crash immediately? Take a crazy nap? You know that will fuck with adjusting back to the time zone,” 

“Hana,” You sigh, and all at once you wish he was next to you. 

“I know, I know,” She makes a sound, tongue against teeth, “I’m just saying,”

  “I didn’t sleep, or I mean, I did on the plane,” 

“That’s good,” You hear glasses clinking on her side of the line.

  “What are you up to, am I interrupting?” You ask.

  “Hmm?” She says as if she didn’t hear you, and then corrects, “No, sorry, nothing really just some chores,” 

“Oh, good, I thought it might be too late to call,” You admit.

  “It’s only nine,” Hana says and you can practically picture her eye roll. 

Upstairs the sound of your shower taps turning off draws your attention and your eyes flick up to the landing. 

“So, your flight was okay?” Your sister’s voice in your ear brings you back to the present and you nod. 

“Yeah, listen,” 

“Oh,” She cuts you off, “Em wants to know how you liked Paris, you didn’t post anything on Instagram she was devastated,”

  Em, Emmanuelle, Hana’s wife and your sister-in-law, born in Korea but half French on her mother’s side, who spent every summer in Lyon. Of course she would want to know how your first trip to France was, and your head was so wrapped up in Yunho you didn’t even think to text her.

  “I loved it,” You tell your sister honestly, “so much, I’ll send you both some pictures as soon as,” 

“You better,” Hana interjects again, “Em’s right here she’s asking if you had time to see the city?” 

“A little, but, Hana,” 

The door upstairs opens, and Yunho quietly pads back to your lofted bedroom, one of your white towels slung low around his hips. His hair is wet, mussed from rubbing a towel through it, his chest pink from the hot water and steam. Just seeing him makes you feel at ease, and he meets your eyes, “You okay?” He whispers. 

You nod, and he searches for his clothes strewn all over the floor of your bedroom. 

“Hana, what?” Your sister prompts, and you realize it’s not the first time she’s said it, “y/n, are you okay? You sound weird,”

Suddenly, you’re deep in a memory. Hana’s tear streaked face in the hallway of your first apartment, a backpack on her shoulder and a defiant jut to her chin. Sixteen years old and standing her ground more firmly than you ever had in your life up to that point, the strength in her voice when she told you she found her soulmate and she wasn’t going to give her up. 

“y/n?” Hana says again, concern laced through her voice. 

You find Yunho on the landing, watching as he rubs a towel over his hair again, and the words finally tumble out, “I found him,” 

“You, what?” She asks, confused.

  “Hana,” His eyes flick to yours and you find yourself smiling, blush creeping back into your cheeks, “I found him,” 

The penny drops, “Oh my god,” 

”I know,” You reply, and Yunho grins, watching you from the landing.

  “Oh my god?” Hana all but shrieks and you laugh as she reacts, calling to Emmanuelle, voice muffled briefly as she shifts the phone. 

“I know,” You manage. 

“Is he French?” Hana babbles, “That would be insane, that would be crazy if both of us,”

  You duck your head in laughter, “What? No, no he’s not French,” 

“What countries were you in? How the hell did you bump into him - abroad of all places, that’s why it took so long, that’s what I was always saying,” She rambles a mile a minute, and it’s always so hard to slow her down once she gets going, barely taking a breath between sentences. 

“Hana,” You cover your mouth with your hand, “Hana, he’s not foreign, he’s Korean,” 

Yunho’s still smiling as he comes down the stairs, but he’s not dressed to leave, he’s dressed comfortably in just his t-shirt and his boxer briefs. Relief fills you with the knowledge that he’s not about to leave, and he watches you quietly as you try to navigate your sister as she jumps from conclusion to conclusion. 

  “That’s even crazier,” She says, “how the hell did you bump into another Korean outside of Korea while you were working constantly?” 

“Let her tell the story,” You hear Em’s voice in the background. 

“Am I on speaker?” You laugh. 

“You are now,” Em replies this time, “hi, y/n,” 

“Hey Emmie,” 

“I have your sister restrained,” She says, but you hear an irritated huff from Hana, “now, tell us what’s going on and this time Hana’s going to listen,” 

“Shut up,” Hana gripes quietly, with no real malice. 

“You love me,” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hana says, “alright, I’m sorry, I’m listening,” 

Yunho waits patiently, but the moment you reach for him, he crosses from the foot of your stairs to your place on the couch. He had felt it, how much you needed him here, that much you’re sure of when he twines your fingers together. With his touch as a tether, you finally tell them, “I didn’t bump into someone random, and you cannot say ‘I told you so’,” you start off, “but, it’s Yunho. My soulmate is Yunho,” 

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the call. Hana is rarely stunned silent, but you wait. She knows the group well, from her teasing when you first started there all the way through listening to you tell her stories about work. There’s no doubt in your mind that she remembers your quietly guarded crush. 

“Is he treating you well?” She finally asks, emotion thread in her voice. 

“Yes,” You breathe.

  “And you love him?” 

“Yes,” 

She pauses, “And he,” 

“Yes, Hana,” You roll your eyes, but feel the rush of tears, “obviously,” 

Yunho brushes his thumb over your knuckles and gives you a squeeze. 

“God,” Hana says with a little gasp, “you’re bonded already, aren’t you?” 

You slide a little to the right to get closer to him, “We are,” you confess. 

For a moment you brace yourself, nervous at her reaction to not being told sooner, especially after everything you’ve been through together. At the anxious tumble of your stomach, Yunho separates your hands and reaches around to pull you into his chest and presses a kiss to your temple. 

All your fears disappear in a matter of seconds. Hana laughs sharply and then she’s right back to herself, “Oh my god, I don’t care I have to say it, I told you so.” 

You grin, a few tears spilling over, “Hey,” 

“When have you ever had a crush that lasted longer than a day?” She exclaims, “I knew it,” 

“Hana!” It’s Em who exclaims this time, taking the words right out of your mouth and you fall apart into laughter. 

Yunho laughs too, softly against your hair and you blush and cover your cheek with your hand at the knowledge he can hear your sister’s teasing words. 

“I’m just saying I knew,” 

“God, stop,” You curl into yourself, your face in Yunho’s neck, “you’re embarrassing me,” 

“Holy shit,” Hana exclaims, “is he there?” 

Yunho slides his hand over your thigh and smoothly shifts you into his lap so he can wrap his arms around you, and you sigh, “Yeah, he’s here,” 

“You sound so happy it’s freaking me out,” 

“I am happy, Hana,” You confess, “I’m really, really happy.”

She takes a breath and you can hear the emotion caught in her voice too, “When can I come up to Seoul? We’re overdue for a visit,”

“Soon,” You promise her. 

“The minute you’re free,” She says, “Em and I will make the time, you just say when,”

“I’ll look,” You nod, relaxing into Yunho’s hold, “but soon, I promise.” 

“I want to meet him,” She insists.

“He wants to meet you both too,” You tell them, and Yunho nods against you. 

“His schedule must be crazy, but,”

“Han,” Em interrupts, and you can practically see your sister in law calming her wife with gentle hand motions. 

“I should go,” You finally say into the phone, “but I miss you,” 

Yunho’s hand smooths up and down your back.

“I miss you too, Hani-ya,” You haven’t called her that in years, your beloved little sister who grew up too fast, but the familiar affection slips out of you with ease. 

“I love you,” She says, “I’m so happy for you, I’m so,” 

You swallow tightly and find Yunho’s hand again, “I know, it’s how I felt when you told me about Em,” 

Hana laughs, the sound wet with tears, “Oh my god,” she sniffs and you hear her voice muffled as she scrubs the tears from her cheeks, “I knew we’d both find them, mom and dad were too shitty for us not to be happy now,” 

You smile, nodding with your head on Yunho’s shoulder, “That I know for sure,” 

There’s a brief moment of silence, both of you collecting your own emotions, and then Hana sighs, “I’m sorry, I’ll let you go, but let us know about coming up.”

”I will,” 

“And, y/n,” Your sister says, a mischievous edge back in her voice, “tell him he better take care of you, okay? Tell him to pick you first, okay? Every time,” 

Your throat constricts, and Yunho’s lips brush against your forehead. Before you can get your voice back in control to answer her, he does it for you, “Tell her I already have, I will,” 

You clear the emotion from your throat, “Did you hear that?” 

“Yeah,” Hana manages.

 “He’s got me,” You tell her honestly, “I promise,” 

Hana takes a breath, “Good,” she sniffles, “now stop talking to me and go get laid or something, if we keep talking I’ll keep crying,” 

You laugh a little at your sister’s attempt at deflection, “Yeah, or something,” 

“I love you, I’ll see you so soon, okay?” Hana says. 

“Soon,” You promise again. 

“Bye, unnie,” Em cuts in, affection in her voice, “we are so, so happy for you.” 

“Thank you,” You smile, “I’ll send you some pictures of France, I’m so sorry I forgot before,” 

“Ah, that’s okay,” Em says warmly, “I think you had better things to focus on,” 

Yunho squeezes your hand. 

“Take care,” She says, “we’ll see you soon,” 

“You too,” 

Em ends the call, and you let your phone slip back into your lap, letting out a sigh of relief and exhaustion against him. 

Yunho stays quiet for a moment, giving you a second of space, and then he kisses you and leans down to find your eyes, “Baby?” 

“Yeah,” 

“You okay?” He murmurs. 

You nod, pressing your lips to his and sinking into him, “I am,” you reply softly when the kiss breaks, “thank you for staying,” 

“I realized I couldn’t go tonight,” He says, “I need to be with you a while longer,” 

You squeeze his hand still laced in yours.

Yunho’s eyes are glassy with his own unshed tears, and he swallows and blinks to get himself together before he brings your knuckles to his lips and gives you a tender kiss, “I will, by the way,” he says gently, “pick you first,” 

You know what he’s talking about, his life in the public eye and his new life with you behind the scenes. You feel his honesty, his confidence, the truth in his words, and all you can do is shake your head. You never want him in that position, especially after everything he’s worked for, “You won’t have to.” 

“But I will,” He promises it to you like a vow, sealing it with a kiss, “I always will.” 

“I will too,” You whisper, “I’m not giving this up,” 

“You won’t have to,” He echoes, a soft smile on his lips. 

His kisses are soft, tender now, and he holds you close as he reminds you of all the ways he loves you. Your quiet apartment cocoons you together, a pause in time just for tonight. Night ticks by and Seoul moves outside, but in each other’s arms you stay still, a stone jetty holding steady in the push and pull of the tide. 

[ikkyfics]

Wasn't it obvious?

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: For a moment, Dave stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on you. The expression on his face wasn’t judgmental or angry but simply confused. “Wait...” he began, hesitantly. “You’re telling me you thought we weren’t dating?” You stayed silent, the weight in your chest tightening at his question. “I... I didn’t know.” “But...” He ran a hand through his messy curls, looking lost. “I thought it was kind of obvious."

Warnings: mention of sex (not explicit), insecurity, est. relationship, hurt comfort, a little angst

A/N: anon, I hope you can like it <333!!

Masterlist

The room was still bathed in the dim light of morning, with the curtains barely drawn, letting streaks of sunlight spill across the space. You woke up slowly, feeling the warmth of his body still so close. Dave’s breathing was soft and steady, the rhythm of someone deeply asleep. A heavy arm lay draped over your waist, a silent reminder that he had no intention of letting you slip away anytime soon.

Your eyes wandered around the messy room, clothes scattered on the floor—your shirt precariously hanging off the edge of a chair, his pants on the rug, half-hidden under the bed. You knew you needed to leave. There were commitments, schedules, things waiting for you out there. But the weight of that moment, of his warmth, seemed to beg you to stay.

“You awake?” Dave’s husky voice broke through your thoughts. He didn’t open his eyes right away, but the grip around your waist tightened slightly. When he finally looked at you, his blue eyes were clouded with sleep, dark curls falling a little over his forehead. “Stay a little longer. It’s still early…”

“I have to go,” you murmured, even as his fingers lazily traced the curve of your arm. His touch was so light, as if he wanted to draw out every second.

“No, you don’t.” He smiled in that way that always made your resolve waver—that small, crooked smile, almost boyish, but filled with something he probably didn’t even realize he carried. Propping himself up on his elbow, he looked straight at you, his eyes shining even in the faint light. “Who’s gonna care if you skip, huh?”

You laughed softly, knowing he was teasing, though there was a hint of truth in his words. Dave had this way of making you feel like the rest of the world didn’t matter, like that moment—just the two of you, tangled in messy sheets—was the only thing that did.

“You’re not going to make me stay,” you warned, but your voice didn’t sound as convincing as you’d intended. He seemed to catch on, because his smile grew wider.

“What if I hold you down right here?” He stretched his arms dramatically, trying to pull you closer, but you slipped out, laughing again.

“Stop it, Dave,” you said, trying to get up, though you could feel the weight of his gaze following you. You grabbed your shirt first, pulling it off the chair, and started putting it on with your back to him, all too aware of his eyes on you. When you turned around, he was still there, propped up on his hand, his hair messy, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made warmth creep up your face.

“You’re really gonna leave me here all alone?” His tone was playful, almost pouty, but there was something else beneath it—something that was always there in the spaces between words, something you never quite dared to name.

“I am,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, though something inside you tightened. You knew he wasn’t holding you there, that you were free to leave. But you also knew there were unspoken things between you, things that made moments like this harder than they should be.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, flopping back onto the pillow, though his eyes never left you. “Fine. But only because I know you’ll come back.”

You paused for a second, still holding onto the waistband of the pants you’d just pulled on. His gaze seemed to carry more weight than his words. But, as always, you let it pass.

“Maybe,” you said, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. And before he could respond, you grabbed your things and started moving toward the door, feeling his eyes on you until the very last second.

“Hey,” he called out, just as your hand touched the doorknob. You turned to look at him one last time. He looked so at ease there, so comfortable, with his messy curls and that smile that always made your heart race. “You look amazing in the morning, you know that?”

“See you later, Dave,” you said, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat, and left before he could trap you with another comment.

The café was just busy enough that the hum of conversations and the clinking of cups against saucers created a constant noise, but not so much that it stopped you from relaxing for a few minutes. You sat near the window, the warm coffee cup in your hands, trying to organize your thoughts. There was so much to do, so many things you were trying to ignore—and one of them seemed to have a face framed by dark curls and blue eyes that took up far more space in your mind than you cared to admit.

"Hey, is that really you?"

The familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and when you looked up, it took a second to recognize the person standing in front of you.

"Katie?" The surprise was clear in your voice, but a smile quickly appeared on your lips. It was her, without a doubt—the same Katie Deauxma from high school, though now her features seemed more mature. Her hair was a bit shorter, but the easy smile she always had was exactly the same.

"Yeah!" Katie laughed, looking just as surprised to see you there. "Wow, it's been ages! How are you?"

"I'm good. Wow, it really has been a long time," you said, standing for a quick, slightly awkward hug. She seemed as comfortable as ever, and the conversation flowed naturally as the two of you sat down together.

Katie asked about college, what you were studying, and shared a bit about her own courses and what she'd been up to since high school. It was pleasant, even nostalgic, talking to someone who knew you from before.

Until she asked, casually, "So, are you dating anyone? Or just enjoying the single life?"

You hesitated for a second that felt like an eternity. The words formed in your mind before you could fully think through their weight, slipping out before you could stop them.

"Actually… I am dating someone."

It was a lie. Or wasn't it? You didn’t know anymore. But the sound of the word in your mouth brought an instant pang of guilt, something that tightened in your chest as Katie’s smile widened.

“Oh, really? That’s great! Who’s the lucky one?”

“Dave Lizewski,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. Katie blinked, surprised, before letting out a short laugh.

“Dave? Wow! I haven’t talked to him in ages. We dated, remember? Back in high school.”

You nodded, feeling your stomach sink. Of course you remembered. Everyone remembered. Dave and Katie had been the cute couple in school, the kind everyone thought was improbable, even cliché—the nerd with the popular girl.

“He was so sweet. A little awkward, but always so thoughtful,” Katie continued, oblivious to the storm of emotions building inside you. “You two must make a great couple, I’m sure.”

You smiled, or tried to, and murmured something vague in response. But all you could think was that she was right. Dave was sweet. He was thoughtful, even with his goofy comments and the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. He held your hand in public. He made a point to walk you home when he could.

But he had never called you his girlfriend.

And now you were sitting here, listening to Katie talk about what he was like when they dated, and something inside you was breaking into pieces you didn’t even know existed. You remembered them together—how she’d hold onto his arm in the school hallways, how happy he looked next to her. And suddenly, you couldn’t help but wonder if he looked at you the same way he looked at her.

You finished your coffee as quickly as you could, saying goodbye to Katie with a smile that felt increasingly forced. She hugged you again before leaving, promising that you should meet up again sometime.

When you were alone again, the noise of the café felt louder, like it was echoing inside you. The empty cup in front of you felt like a weight holding you there, while your thoughts spiraled endlessly.

Girlfriend.

You’d said it. And now the word felt like it was haunting you, something far too big to carry. You never wanted to be this person, the one who lied or twisted things to fit into something that might not even be real.

But you couldn’t help it.

Because deep down, you wanted it to be true.

Thursday nights always held a special weight. It was an unspoken tradition between the two of you. No matter what happened during the week—piles of work, tough exams, or tight deadlines—Thursdays were reserved for you two. And no matter how hard you tried to focus on something else, the memory of your encounter with Katie had been pounding in your head ever since you left the café.

You had tried to shake it off with a stack of required reading, loud music through your headphones, and even a spontaneous apartment cleaning spree, but nothing worked. Katie's voice kept echoing, her smile, the way she talked about Dave. The way she referred to him as someone who used to be hers, as if there was still a part of him trapped in the past that might never belong to you.

And then there was you. And the lie. Or was it the truth? You didn’t even know anymore. The weight of the words that had slipped out before you could stop them—they felt heavier now, like stones sinking in your stomach. You said it because you wanted to believe it was real. But what about him? What would he think if he knew?

The sound of the doorbell yanked you from your thoughts. It was him.

You took a deep breath, trying to quiet the chaos inside, and opened the door. Dave stood there, as he always did, with his messy curls and a small smile that grew wider just for you. He held a plastic bag with a pack of fries and two sodas—the kind of thing he always brought because he knew you loved it.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek before stepping inside. His touch was warm, familiar. But tonight, it felt harder to relax around him, like the storm in your head was keeping you from grounding yourself in the moment.

“Hey,” you replied, closing the door as he made his way to the kitchen, putting the sodas in the fridge without even asking. He’d been doing this for so long that it was second nature.

“You okay?” Dave asked, opening the bag of fries and tossing one into his mouth. He looked at you with those blue eyes, his forehead creasing slightly with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered quickly—maybe too quickly. He noticed. Of course, he did. Dave had always had this uncanny ability to sense when something was off, even when you tried to hide it.

“Are you sure? You seem kind of...” He gestured vaguely with his hand.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, a bit more firmly. “Just tired, that’s all.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, but the way he kept watching you while munching on a fry made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Wanna watch a movie or something? I brought that one you said you wanted to see...”

“I’m not sure I feel like watching a movie tonight,” you replied, trying to keep your voice neutral as you grabbed a glass of water for yourself. It was a small response, almost insignificant, but the tension was already starting to build.

“Alright, so what do you want to do?” He leaned against the kitchen counter, his gaze calm and his relaxed posture a stark contrast to the knot tightening inside you.

“I don’t know, Dave!” The words came out sharper than you intended, and the tone in your voice made his eyebrows lift.

“Okay, easy,” he said slowly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I was just asking. No need to bite my head off.”

You sighed, guilt starting to creep in. But instead of stopping, the words began spilling out before you could catch them. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just... I don’t know. I’m tired. I had a rough day, and then you show up with your fries like everything is so simple, like... like I just need a movie, and everything will be fine.”

He blinked, visibly confused, but his tone remained calm. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t know you were feeling so... like this.”

“Like this?” You crossed your arms, the tension in your stance growing. “What’s that supposed to mean, Dave?”

“You know what I mean,” he said, but now there was something in his tone that suggested he was trying to keep his patience in check.

“Actually, I don’t,” you shot back, your voice rising. But as soon as the words left your mouth, you felt the sting of tears welling in your eyes, and the lump in your throat that had been forming all day was now nearly unbearable.

Dave noticed immediately. Of course, he did. He might not have been great with words, but he never failed to pick up on when something was wrong with you. His expression shifted in an instant, confusion giving way to a concern so genuine it made you feel even more vulnerable.

“Hey, hey,” he said, stepping closer, his voice softer now. “What’s going on? Are you crying?”

“I’m not,” you lied, turning your face away, but he didn’t buy it.

“Yes, you are,” he insisted, and before you could step back, Dave was already close enough to gently take your hands in his. “Look at me.”

You hesitated but finally lifted your gaze. His blue eyes met yours, filled with so much concern it was almost impossible to hold the contact.

“Talk to me,” he said. It wasn’t a command; it was an invitation. “Please.”

The weight in your chest felt like it was about to explode, and the words came out before you could stop them.

“I ran into Katie.”

Dave blinked, visibly surprised. “Katie?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, trying to look away, but he stayed close, holding your hands with almost unbearable tenderness. “We bumped into each other by chance. Talked for a few minutes.”

He tilted his head, his blue eyes narrowing slightly, now a mix of curiosity and concern. “And?”

“She asked about you,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. “And I... I told her I was your girlfriend.”

Dave went quiet for a moment. Not the heavy silence of judgment, but the kind of pause he always took when he was trying to fully understand something.

“Okay,” he began cautiously. “And... why does that seem to be hurting you?”

“Because I don’t know if it’s true!” you burst out, the confession hitting with a force that made you flinch. “I said I was your girlfriend, but I didn’t know if I was lying. We’ve never talked about this, never put a name on what we have. And now all I can think about is whether I said something that wasn’t real.”

For a moment, he stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on you. The expression on his face wasn’t judgmental or angry but simply confused.

“Wait...” he began, hesitantly. “You’re telling me you thought we weren’t dating?”

You stayed silent, the weight in your chest tightening at his question.

“I... I didn’t know,” you admitted, your voice weak, barely a whisper.

“But...” He ran a hand through his messy curls, looking lost. “I thought it was kind of obvious. I mean, we see each other all the time, spend nights together, you steal my shirts...”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you cut him off, frustration mixed with nervousness. “People do that all the time without dating, Dave.”

“But I don’t do that with just anyone,” he countered, his blue eyes locking onto yours, as if he wanted to make this point crystal clear. “I do that with you because I want to be with you. Because I thought... well, I thought it was obvious.”

“But you never said it,” you argued, feeling the tears starting to return. “And I never said it either. And that’s what’s been driving me crazy. I didn’t know what we were.”

Dave sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. He looked like he was processing everything all at once, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But instead, he stepped closer until he was near enough to hold your hands again.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Then let’s make it clear now.”

His tone was calm but firm, and when he spoke again, it felt like every word had been carefully chosen.

“I’m with you,” he said. “And I thought that was obvious, but if it wasn’t, I’m saying it now: I want to be with you. Just you. And if that means we’re dating, then yeah, I guess we’re dating.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

“But...” you began, the word almost lost in the lump in your throat. “What about Katie?”

He frowned, clearly caught off guard by the change in topic.

“What about Katie?”

“She was your first girlfriend,” you continued, your voice cracking slightly. “And I remember how you two were. Everyone thought you were perfect together. And now, seeing her again, I can’t stop thinking that...”

“That what?” He tilted his head, his blue eyes filled with concern.

“That I’ll never be good enough,” you confessed, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Dave was silent for a moment, but before you could say more, he shook his head with a soft, incredulous laugh.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice full of almost overwhelming tenderness.

You looked at him, confused.

“I broke up with Katie years ago,” he said, as though reminding you of something obvious. “And yeah, it was important to me. She was my first girlfriend. But that doesn’t mean anything now. She’s part of my past, that’s all. You’re my present. And my future, if I’m lucky.”

You tried to process his words, but the lump in your throat only seemed to grow.

“But what if I’m not enough?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“You already are enough,” he answered immediately, without hesitation. He stepped closer, so close that you were almost nose to nose. “More than enough. And you don’t need to compare yourself to Katie or anyone else. Because no one comes close to you, got it? No one.”

His eyes were so intense, so full of emotion, that you felt tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’m here because I want to be here,” he continued, his voice now softer. “Because you’re who I want. And nothing—absolutely nothing—is going to change that.”

You closed your eyes, trying to hold back the tears, but it was impossible. When you opened them again, Dave was already pulling you into a tight embrace, wrapping you in a tenderness that felt both overwhelming and comforting all at once.

Dave’s arms tightened around you as if he were trying to shield you from the outside world—or maybe from yourself. The warmth of his body surrounded you, and for a moment, the only sound you could hear was the steady beat of his heart, like a reassuring rhythm that seemed to absorb all the anxiety that had consumed you until then.

“You’re more than enough,” he repeated, his voice low and steady, as if it were something he needed you to believe more than anything else. And you wanted to believe it.

Minutes passed like that, in a cocoon of quiet comfort, with him holding you as if the whole world had disappeared. And you stayed there, letting yourself surrender to that sense of relief, of not needing to worry about anything else. Just the present. Just him.

Finally, you lifted your head, your face warm and your eyes still a little teary but calmer. You looked at him, and he looked back at you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were being seen in a way no one else ever could.

“Do you really think I’m enough for you?” you asked, your voice softer now but still tinged with uncertainty. You knew he’d answered, but you needed to hear it again, to be sure.

Dave smiled, a smile that made his eyes shine with a mix of affection and certainty. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lightly grazing your skin, and answered with a tenderness that warmed your chest.

“I don’t just think,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. “I know. And if you let me, I’ll show you that every single day. Because to me, you’re everything. And nothing, no one, can change that.”

His words echoed softly but with a force that was impossible to ignore. And in that moment, with your heart racing and your breath unsteady, you finally understood what he was trying to tell you. It didn’t matter what had happened in the past or the insecurities you carried. What mattered was what he was offering you now. It was real. And you wanted to believe it. Wanted to allow yourself.

You gave a small smile, the tears still falling but now accompanied by a growing sense of peace that began to fill the spaces left by doubt. “I don’t want to compare myself to anyone,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “But sometimes it’s hard.”

Dave gave a small laugh, gently cupping your cheeks. “I get it,” he said. “But never forget: you’re who I chose. And you don’t need to be like anyone else. You’re unique to me, and that’s all I need.”

He pulled you closer again, and this time, instead of insecurity, the embrace was filled with something softer yet stronger—a sense that you’d found your place, a safe place full of care.

Time passed slowly, and you felt calmer, as if his words had cleared the chaos in your mind. When you looked into his eyes, you no longer saw doubt or fear—just certainty. And you felt it too. The certainty that, with him by your side, everything would be okay.

“I love you,” you whispered, not thinking too much, but with a truth that burned through your skin and filled your chest with something so profound that words couldn’t fully translate it.

Dave smiled, that genuine, happy smile of his. “I love you too,” he replied, before leaning in for a gentle kiss that made the world seem to pause for a moment. A kiss that needed no explanations. A kiss that said everything about who you were—and everything you were still about to become.

[wholoveseggs]

I am currently dealing with my mother being in end care hospice for Alzheimer’s, dreading every time my phone makes a noise because it could be the worst news. I am spending my time either sobbing or a complete zombie with a barely functional brain. (I put a spray bottle in the freezer instead of the drink I was chilling). I live alone and have no close friends or family near me and I just wish I had an Elijah to hold me. I just wish I could lay on top of him in bed, him holding me and petting my hair while I cry.

I totally understand if this is not something you’re comfortable writing, but if you are, I’d really appreciate it. If nothing else, I thank you for reading my message.

Anchor

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} Grief threatens to overwhelm you, but Elijah's calming presence becomes your anchor, reminding you that even in your darkest hours, you are not alone.

♡♡ I love you, anon, and I’m so incredibly sorry that you’re going through this. My heart aches for you, and I hope that this fic can offer you even the smallest moment of comfort. You are not alone, and I’m sending you so much love and strength~ ♡♡

672 words - Warnings: angst, grief, comfort & cuddles

When you are a child, your parents are this big, strong figure. They seem invincible and all-knowing. But then you grow up. And one day, you realize that your parents aren't superman. They aren't invincible and they certainly aren't infallible. Your parents, the same people who were your entire world as a kid, are suddenly human. And sometimes, humans get sick.

Everyone reacts differently, and there's no right or wrong way to feel. There's no road map or set of instructions on how to mourn. You can be angry, or sad, or numb, or all three at the same time. It's a roller coaster, a freefall, and you never know when the next wave of emotions will hit. It's okay to feel what you feel. It's okay to want to hide. And it's also okay to want to be with someone, to have someone to lean on.

You can't change the fact that your parents got sick, and you can't change the outcome. The limbo of losing them while they are still alive is a terrible feeling, like an emotional purgatory. All you can do is focus on yourself, and remember that the pain will pass, eventually.

It was one of those nights when the weight of the world felt unbearable, crushing your chest and making it hard to breathe. You sat curled up on your couch, terrified to look at your phone, waiting for a call you dreaded yet knew was inevitable.

You didn’t notice Elijah’s presence at first. It wasn’t unusual for him to move like a shadow, quiet and gentle, especially when he knew you were hurting. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his dark eyes full of concern, before approaching you with the kind of care only he could manage.

"My love," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. He knelt in front of you, resting his hand on your knee. "You needn't face this alone."

His words broke something inside you. The dam of composure you tried so desperately to maintain crumbled, and the tears you’d been holding back poured out in waves. Elijah didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as your sobs wracked your body.

He carried you to your bed, sitting with his back against the headboard and coaxing you to lay on top of him. His arms wrapped securely around you, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other ran through your hair with a tenderness that brought fresh tears to your eyes.

"You’re allowed to grieve," he murmured against your temple. "You’re allowed to feel lost, to feel overwhelmed. But know that I am here. You do not have to carry this burden on your own."

You clung to him like a lifeline, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though letting go would send you spiraling into the abyss.

"I feel like I’m breaking, Elijah," you choked out. "I don’t know how to do this."

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "You don’t have to be okay right now. You’re enduring something no one should have to endure alone. But you are stronger than you realize, and I will hold you through every moment of doubt and despair."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and though the pain didn’t vanish, the sharp edges dulled ever so slightly. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear became an anchor, a reminder that even in your darkest hours, you had someone who cared deeply for you.

As your breathing evened out and the tears subsided, Elijah continued to stroke your hair, whispering soft reassurances. His presence didn’t fix everything. It couldn’t. But it made the unbearable seem just a little more manageable.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you closed your eyes and let yourself rest, knowing that Elijah would be there, steadfast and unyielding, for as long as you needed him.

[woozinhos]

Just the tip but vernon? 👀🐻‍❄️

Notes: god back to writing I love it hehe hope you enjoy <3

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Smut below the cut

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You and Vernon had been tired all day, having worked non-stop on a project that left you both exhausted. As the night fell, the fatigue began to fade and the desire for each other began to build. You both lay in bed, too tired to move much but too aroused to sleep. You turned to Vernon, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room.

"I can't believe we're still so horny after all that work," you said, your voice husky with desire. Vernon chuckled, his hand tracing patterns on your bare skin. "Me neither," he replied, his eyes darkening with lust. "But I don't think I have the energy for anything more than just... the tip." You smirked at his suggestion, your body responding to the thought.

"Just the tip, huh?" you said, your hand trailing down his chest. "I think we can work with that." Vernon's breathing grew heavier as your hand continued to explore his body. He rolled on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. "You're such a tease," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "I've been wanting you all day." You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"I know," you said, your voice low and sultry. "I've been thinking about you all day too." Vernon kissed your neck, his tongue tracing a path down to your collarbone. He moved slowly, taking his time to tease you just as much as you had teased him. Vernon flopped onto the bed beside you, completely spent from the effort of just getting you aroused. He let out a deep sigh, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "God, I'm exhausted," he said, his eyes closing. "But you're so worth it." You laughed softly, turning onto your side to face him.

"We can finish this tomorrow," you said, your fingers gently tracing the contours of his face. "When we have more energy.” Vernon pouted, his eyes opening to look at you with a pleading expression. "But I need you now," he whined, his voice filled with need. "I can't wait until tomorrow. I want to touch you, taste you, make you feel good." You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, your own desire still burning strong.

"Are you sure you have the energy for that?" you asked, a hint of challenge in your voice. Vernon's eyes darkened again as he heard your words. "Just the tip," he repeated, his voice low and gravelly. "Please." You nodded, a sly smile playing on your lips.

"Okay," you said, scooting closer to him. "Just the tip it is." Vernon's hands moved with a sense of urgency, his fingers slipping under the fabric of your panties and pulling them aside to reveal your body to him. He looked at you hungrily, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. You could feel his gaze on you, burning with desire. He gently traced a finger along your sensitive skin, teasing you just enough to drive you wild.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Vernon slowly pulled himself out of his boxers, his erection springing free and hard as a rock. He stroked himself gently, watching your face as he did so.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he said, his voice thick with desire. He moved you onto your side, his body spooning yours from behind. His chest pressed against your back, his warmth enveloping you. He continued to stroke himself, his breath hot against your neck. He pushed one leg between yours, gently spreading you open for him. His hand moved to your hip, holding you steady as he positioned himself behind you.

"Are you ready for me?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. You nodded, your heart racing in anticipation. You could feel the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. Vernon slowly pushed himself into you, letting out a low moan as he felt the tight heat envelop him. He started to move his hips, slowly sliding the tip of his cock in and out of you. The sensation was driving you crazy, sending waves of pleasure through your body with every gentle thrust. Vernon's grip on your hip tightened as he moved, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your neck.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his words punctuated by the sound of your bodies moving together. He began to move faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent as his need for release built. He reached around to cup your breast, his fingers pinching your nipple as he continued to drive himself into you.

"Please," he begged, his voice ragged with desire. "Please let me go all the way. I need more of you." You could hear the desperation in his voice, and it sent a thrill through your body. You nodded, giving him the permission he needed.

"Do it," you whispered, your own need for him becoming too much to bear. "Fuck me properly." Vernon didn't hesitate. With a low growl, he pushed himself all the way inside you, burying himself to the hilt. He started to thrust harder, his hips snapping against yours with each movement. He lost himself in the sensation, his mind consumed by the pleasure of being deep inside you.

"Yes," you gasped, your voice filled with ecstasy. "Just like that, don't stop." Vernon grunted in response, his pace quickening even more as he felt you respond to his movements. He shifted his position slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts to hit that sweet spot inside you. He could feel you clenching around him, your body tightening with pleasure.

"You're so tight," he panted, his hand moving from your breast to your hip to hold you in place. "I can feel you taking me so well." He was getting closer and closer to the edge, the sound of your moans and the feel of your body driving him wild. He continued to thrust into you, his pace becoming more erratic as he neared his climax. He was struggling to hold on, but he wanted to bring you over the edge first.

"Come for me," he said through gritted teeth. "I want to feel you come around me." He reached down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and starting to rub it in quick, circular motions. The added stimulation pushed you closer and closer to the edge, your body tensing as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level.

"Vernon," you moaned, your body arching against him as you felt your orgasm approaching. "I'm so close. He continued to move against you, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he pushed you towards your release.

"Let go," he whispered in your ear. "Let it take you. I've got you." Your body convulsed as you finally reached your peak, your scream echoing through the room as your orgasm washed over you in waves. Vernon held you tight, his hips stuttering as he felt your walls clenching around him. He buried his face in your neck, muffling his own moans as he followed you over the edge, spilling himself deep inside you. You both lay there, panting and sweaty, as you slowly came down from your high. Vernon wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulder.

"That was wow," he whispered, his voice still husky with desire. You turned in his arms to face him, your eyes meeting his as you basked in the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

[cheeseatlantic]

OH YEAH FINAL PART OR SOMETHING ON YEAHHSHEUSJDJFJSKDNDN

SLOW DOWN (PT 3)

Johnny’s hands grip your thighs tighter, his strength keeping you firmly pinned against the wall as your bodies collide in a blur of heat and raw need. His lips leave your mouth, trailing along your jaw and down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Each kiss, each bite, ignites a new spark that courses through your veins.

“God, you drive me insane,” he growls, his accent thicker now, roughened by desire. His lips latch onto the pulse point in your neck, sucking and biting just enough to leave a mark—a reminder of him, of this moment.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard enough to earn a low groan from him. “Then stop teasing,” you pant, arching into him, your hips shifting just enough to feel the hardness pressing between your legs.

“Teasin’, am I?” he mutters, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His blue eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and the smirk that curves his lips is anything but innocent. “You’ve no idea what teasin’ really feels like, love.”

Without warning, he rolls his hips against you, the friction pulling a gasp from your lips. Your nails dig into his scalp, your body pressing closer as he grinds against you again, harder this time, letting you feel every inch of him through the thin barrier of your clothes.

“Johnny—” His name comes out as a plea, your voice shaking with the need that’s building rapidly, consuming you.

He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through you. “What’s wrong? Thought ye could handle this.”

You try to glare at him, but the way his teeth scrape over the curve of your collarbone has you melting instead. “If you don’t take me to bed right now, I swear—”

He cuts you off with another bruising kiss, swallowing the rest of your threat. Then he pulls back, his lips slick and swollen, and whispers, “Bed, aye? Let’s see how long you last, lass.”

In one swift motion, he turns and carries you toward the bedroom, his hands firm but gentle as they hold you close. He kicks the door open without bothering to turn on the light, the faint glow from the hallway spilling in just enough to outline the hunger on his face.

The moment he lays you down on the bed, his body follows, caging you in. He hovers above you for a moment, his breath coming in ragged pants as his eyes rake over you. “You’re somethin’ else,” he murmurs, his voice rough with reverence.

You reach for him, pulling him down so his weight presses into you, grounding you in the heat of him. Your hands find their way under his shirt, sliding over hard muscle and the scars that tell a thousand stories. “And you talk too much,” you tease, though your voice trembles with need.

He grins against your lips, already tugging his shirt over his head. “Aye, but you love it.”

Before you can retort, his hands are on you, stripping away the barriers between you in a haze of desperation. Every touch, every kiss, is fire—consuming and unrelenting. When his mouth finally trails lower, his kisses slow and deliberate, you realize you’re no longer in control.

And for the first time, you don’t care.

ngl i cringed like so extremely hard considering its mt first time like writing smut ty

[krispycreamcake]

For whom the church bell tolls

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Fandom: Diabolik lovers

Pairings: Yuma mukami x Shu Sakamaki (Yui's here too)

Tags: angst, enemies to lovers, childhood friends, slow burn, dialogue driven, mlm, love triangle, mentions of death, child abuse, blood, blood sucking, kinda kinky if you squint, biblical themes

Content summary: A cute little chat between repressed homosexuals

Also not proof read leave me alone

It was the middle of fall, the air was crisp, the sky dull with apprehensive winter gloom, leaves just beginning to fully finish their golden transformation, the smell of rain always being there. Parks now lay barren and empty as school children finally resume their classes after summer vacation, what was once an active town filled with the shrill voice of students, now lay disturbingly quiet with the deafening sounds of adults' judgemental glances and whispers.

The mansion at this time of year was more depressing than usual, ironically it was probably the most peaceful. Almost no one was ever home, Reiji would make sure of it that none of his brothers were to miss any of their classes, especially during such a slow time in the school year. Lots of students often wouldn't show up to school at all in favour of staying warm inside their homes. This was also flu season for Ryoutei Academy due to the harsh cold mixed with the close proximity of students. All one would hear in the hallway were marching footsteps and the occasional coughing of sickened students pushing themselves for that glint of validation for exceeding their parents' expectations and bringing honour to their family name.

Shu didn't mind attending his classes at these times due to the peaceful nature of an empty school. Of course that doesn't mean he was paying any attention in class or completing assignments. It was for this very reason that him and Reiji were arguing right now.

"You worthless slob. Tsk- I don't even know why father bothers sending you to such a well renowned academy. This is the 4th time this week a teacher has pulled me aside to say that you aren't doing anything in class, and one time you even walked out during a lecture!"

Reiji said as he propped up his glasses with his middle finger, slamming shut the book he was reading for dramatic effect.

"And yet I'm still the favourite. Why don't you just shut up and stop wasting your time."

Reiji felt his chest tighten as a slur of detestable words started to fly out his mouth in such a commotion that Shu had no time to process what he was even saying. He popped in his earphones and teleported to the graveyard.

The cold winds of the night howled and whipped through his hair, blocking his eyesight as he leaned against an unmarked grave. Red, yellow and orange leaves rustled under his weight as he crushed them to bits. Pale hands gripping what was left of the leaves, the bright and lively colours contrasting the surrounding area, and more importantly, his feelings.

He leaned his head back as he turned up the volume of his iPod. His breathing slow and concentrated, almost forceful. Usually, Reiji's words never bothered him, but he had just woken up from that dream again. Flames everywhere, the smell of smoke suffocating his lungs as he stood there helpless, unable to do anything but watch.

He felt tears spring up as he scrunched his face, delicate features writhing in agony. His index finger brushed up against his cheek, feeling the tears for what they were.

"Typical... How bothersome. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to forget. Even after hundreds of years, you still haunt me. Heh.. Was that your intention all this time? What a stalker..."

His body tensed as a wave of wind rushed past him. Face immediately turning into a scowl as the smell of decay hit him like a bus. His body rigid as he sat up.

"Show yourself."

Was all Shu said before a long pause of silence enveloped the cemetery. Before long, Shu heard a chuckle. The winds carried the sound so far away that he couldn't detect where it even came from.

'Thump'

An apple had fallen from a tree above Shu, hitting him directly on his head. He swiftly looked to the ground to observe the fruit before the same voice called out again.

"Ya know yer s'posed to look up not down right?"

Shu's head immediately spun around, eyes searching through the trees before almost immediately spotting the third nuisance of that dreaded household. Yuma Mukami. For such a hard worker, it seemed odd to see him sitting lazily on an apple tree branch, completely relaxed with such a smirk on his face.

"You did that on purpose."

Shu replied bluntly.

"Harsh winds."

Yuma retorted just as quick.

"Whatever. Just stay out of my way, you and your brothers are too much of a hassle to even have to go to school with."

Shu said as he put back in his earphones.

"Hmph, everything for you is a hassle. But what could you really expect from such a lazy asshole? I'm surprised you even made it all the way out here without falling asleep."

Yuma said, taking a bite out of the fruit.

"Heh- you're bold when you have nothing to be cocky about. Maybe you're into that sort of thing?"

Yuma raised his eyebrow at this before taking another bite, speaking with a mouthful of apple.

"What the hell are ya on about? You tryna insinuate somethin'?"

Shu smirked as he finally looked up at him.

"Well, you're here aren't you? You're a long way from home, so one can imagine the lengths you'd go just to see me."

Yuma snorted just before a piece of the apple almost got stuck in his windpipe, causing him to cough and sputter all over the place. Shu in the meantime, feeling pleased with how this interaction went, decided to step away from under the tree and take in his bewildered expression.

"Haa? Are ya right in the head or somethin'? I'd never go for such a slow guy like yourself!"

Yuma shouted from above.

Shu clicked his tongue before his face went cold suddenly.

"She's not here."

Yuma finally stopped munching on the apple before looking him directly in his eyes. Their gazes meeting in a silent battle for dominance.

"You knew?"

Now, it was Shu's turn to laugh.

"Wasn't it obvious from the start?"

Yuma flung his head back as he looked up at the leaves above him.

"I suppose."

Shu walked right up under him and put his hands into the pockets of his cardigan.

"Make no mistake, there's no way I'd let half breeds like you even think about getting your hands on my prey, let alone taking it."

Yuma didn't respond, too busy thinking about how he's going to tell his older brother that he failed his task.

"If that's all that you came here for, you can leave now."

Despite their almost friendly banter before, the air had now turned sour, the stench of pent up aggravation for one another permeating the atmosphere. They were just too different. So why was Shu disappointed?

Yuma finally jumped off from the branch he was perched up on, a heavy thud breaking the silence.

"Where is she?"

Yuma said, the apple in his hand now lay limp as he barely put in enough effort to hold it correctly, one twitch of a finger and the fruit would have fallen to the ground.

"Why would I care?"

Shu didn't even bother to turn around and face him, in turn he just stared blankly at the field of graves beyond him.

"Tch- you should."

Shu didn't miss a single beat before responding.

"I don't. I don't care whether she lives or dies, she's only prey. The only thing that's remarkable about her is the quality of her blood."

Yuma felt something rise within him, like a deep slated anger for something more than just this conversation.

"It's always you damn rich kids that never appreciate the good things in life. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. High quality prey and you can't even be bothered to know where it is! What a bunch of stuck up assholes, all of you Sakamakis."

Yuma snapped back at him, memories of constant injustice plaguing his mind, as he remembered how awfully he was treated as a kid.

Shu didn't respond and instead just began to leave the situation.

"Hey! I'm talkin to ya! Don't you know it's rude to walk away when yer conversatin' with someone!?Stop walking goddammit!"

Yuma shouted as he ran up and harshly tugged on his shoulder, forcing Shu to stop in his tracks.

It wasn't long before Shu quickly became agitated and immediately spun around to confront Yuma. He didn't say a word, instead just looking directly at him, his eyes scanning over his attacker's build.

"What a stuck up prick. I thought I told you stop where you were goin?"

Yuma spoke up, not feeling the slightest bit intimated by his stare.

"If you really want her, then you can go look yourself. She's in the church."

And with those words, Shu immediately teleported away.

Yuma was taken aback and just stood there.

"The fuck is that guy's problem?? Why'd he just...."

Before Yuma could say anymore, he followed Shu's advice and went to visit the church.

There she stood, about to get on her knees and devote herself to the eternal divine. No regret flushing her cheeks, no panicked heartbeats or irregular breaths. Her school uniform was still untainted as she clasped her hands together, fang marks being covered by the long sheet of fabric that made her sleeve, hiding her sin and tucking it away from the watchful eye of the holy one.

How ironic, because she knew more than anyone else, nothing could ever hide from him. Especially not one of his most prized possessions being devoured by Satan's seed. Maybe it was out of respect that she covered her flaws, to not spit in the face of God and dare threaten his unwavering love and mercy by showing just how bad of a job he was doing when it came to protecting his most devout follower.

Nonetheless, there she lay, hymns chanting over and over in her mind. However, all that did was get Yuma more riled up. He stalked over to her before quietly sneaking up right behind her. He forcefully grabbed a handful of hair and yanked it back as hard as he could, watching as her eyes shot open and immediately became teary.

"Y-yuma kun! What are you doing!? Please- stop!"

Was all the poor girl could muster due to her increasing pain. Despite everything, no matter what she went through, Yui never screamed harshly or made it known that she was in obvious pain, except for the polite indications she'd often spew out. Through it all, Yui remained ever gracious and gentle, despite people belittling her for her soft nature, she knew it was the right way to be. That's just the kind of person she was.

Yuma chuckled sadistically.

"Well sow, as sexy as you looked gettin' all on yer knees like that without anyone forcin' ya too.... The only man you should ever worship....is me."

Yui blinked in shock as Yuma raised her to her feet and spun her around, hand clenching her jaw in the way that couples would often do, thumb caressing her cheek as his pointer finger pressed into her mandible, squeezing her face together.

He studied her expression, taking in the perpetual fear she wafted off onto him. His sharpened gaze dug into her skin, forcing her eyes to back away and surrender.

"What? Can't stand a little staring contest?"

Yuma probably thought he was the funniest person in the room, but the truth was, no one was laughing.

His smile dropped as he scolded her for not humoring his little jokes. The brutality never ended between vampire and prey, no matter how small or stupid the situation might be. He grabbed her by her throat, calloused hands squeezing her esophagus, bruising her newly healed skin with marks of his own, these ones not being as easy to seal up. He watched mercilessly as she clawed at him, begging him, crying for him to stop. He watched. He looked. He stared. But never, did he see the painful situation in front of him.

Yui's eyes watered as she felt her chest tighten and her body feel light. Not here... Oh god not now. She tried as hard as she could to push him away, but instead let out pathetic gurgles that made her abuser laugh at her attempts to save herself.

"W-why..? Yu.... Ma kun..."

Her face turned blue, hoping that in her last moments conscious, she could get some answers. Nothing in her life made sense, so it was only reasonable for her to continuously question the unknown. The only thing they haven't done to her by this point was cut off her tongue to physically silence her, yet, she wouldn't put it above them.

Just before her vision became completely dark, she heard Yuma mutter a curse word before letting go of her. She lay limp on the floor after her body crashed with the cold marble.

"So you came."

Yuma said, almost under his breath like if he'd been anticipating this.

"How daft are you? Did you really think I wouldn't?"

Shu said, words like daggers as he made his way over to Yuma. The pale moonlight made him seem ethereal as he flew down from the edge of the church's ledge where paintings and candles were propped up on. His being floated towards Yuma, a magnificently made glass mural of Yeshua painted behind him. His body covering the holy lord every bit of the way, yet the angels and trumpets surrounded his heavenly figure, playing a mocking melody of worship still lay visible, celebrating their saviour.

His golden locks just barely covering the deep blue intensity of his orbs, skin unmarred by the battle of time, face as delicate as the last surviving rose of winter. Cold, beautiful, on the brink of death itself. Despite his calloused expression, Yuma couldn't help but feel warm just looking at this falsely angelic creature slowly descending towards him. Eyes widened with curiousity like a child discovering something new that it still cannot yet comprehend. That feeling of the ever approaching dread of the unknown, mixed with the fascination all humans are born with.

Unknowingly, he stepped over Yui's cold unmoving body to get closer to Shu as he finally made his way down.

"Took ya long enough."

Yuma said, throat unbearably dry.

"Why were you trying to kill her?"

Silence enveloped the both.

"I wasn't-"

Shu's gaze hardened as he cut off Yuma.

"Shut up. I don't want to hear any of your lies. Stop wasting my time and tell me why."

Yuma put his hand in his pocket casually, obviously not caring about how upset Shu had gotten.

"She's not just your prey. I can do whatever the fuck I please with her."

Shu grinded his teeth but tried his best to keep his nonchalant demeanor.

"Thought ya didn't care whether she lives or dies?"

In a second, Shu's eyes immediately widened. A smile of disbelief almost gracing his face.

"So that's why...."

Yuma looked surprised and confused.

"The hell are ya talkin bout now? That's why what?"

Yuma said defensively, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Heh... Pfft... Ha.. Hah... Hahaha- HAHAHAHA"

Yuma's brows furrowed together.

"The fuck is wrong with ya!? Yer startin to creep me out!"

Shu continued to laugh, eventually holding his stomach to contain himself as Yuma looked on in horror.

"You- me- did you.....really think?"

Yuma's stomach turned at this.

"Did I think what!? Spit it out asshole! Stop bein' so cryptic."

Shu couldn't gather himself as he continued laughing, eventually tears began streaming out as he almost fell back, a hand covering half his face in an attempt to hold himself together.

"H-hey... What's with this whole act you're puttin on? It's.....Are you ok? You're...."

Yuma tried salvaging what was left of Shu's sanity but quickly proved futile.

"You- you remind me so much of... Him. It's uncanny! Everywhere I go, he's there. If I'm awake or I'm asleep, he's there. Around every corner, waiting for me, reminding me of the failure that I am! I couldn't- I couldn't even.... Save him."

Eventually the laughter stopped, and all that was left was a heartbroken man trying to stand on his own, but failing miserably as he kept stumbling back. The tears kept coming as both his hands were now desperately and frantically trying to glue back together the bits of his mind as he began to tighten his hold on himself.

Yuma stared at the mess of a man in front of him. He understood none of his ramblings but was determined to figure out what was going on.

"Who do I remind you of? Who are you talking about...?"

Shu stayed quiet for a long time before slowly looking up at him.

"It.... Doesn't matter. He's dead now. He's dead and it's my fault...."

Yuma stepped closer as he cautiously reached out his hand, eventually shaking Shu out of his trance. Just as he did, he watched in horror as the blond's eyes grew dull and dead.

"Look dude, I dunno whatever issues ya got goin' on inside yer head, but you gotta pull yourself together. We all got demons, that's no doubt. Every one of us, even sow over there. But what I'm tryna say is, ya gotta let the past be the past."

Shu looked at Yuma in disbelief. How'd he ever get to the point where he'd be comforted by a half breed?

"D'ya really think whoever it is yer sniveling about would like to see how pathetic you look right now? I'm sure he'd have wanted you to continue living life to the best of yer ability, without regrets! And don't get it wrong- I'm not tellin you this because I care about you or anythin', I enjoy the chase. Ever since I became a vampire, having to track down my prey and forcefully take it from you assholes has been a delight. It sparks somethin' in me."

Yuma paused before slapping the both sides of Shu's shoulders like if he just gave him a pep talk for an upcoming football game. His eyes sparkled and his smile widened.

"So.... Don't let me down kay? Otherwise it's no fun for me at all, so stop yer whinin'!"

Shu calmed down a bit, but the poison still lingered. He began to take deep breaths through his mouth, not having a beating heart meant that trying to calm yourself like this was futile in every way, but he decided to count his breaths. Each number, a step away from the edge.

"I can't even remember what he smells like..... So even if there was somehow a slim chance he was standing right in front me, I wouldn't know."

Shu said quietly. It seemed as if in this very rare moment, he was finally speaking the honest thoughts that came to mind, instead of just bottling it up like usual.

"Ya gotta stop thinkin' so much. The past is the past for a reason, it's not healthy to keep it draggin' behind ya every minute of yer life. You're not even human... So you'd be regrettin' this forever."

Yuma said, a pang of sympathy and understanding hitting him like a bus.

"Look... Ya think we wanted to become monsters? We had no other choice. It was an opportunity to have a restart at everything that ever went wrong.... And a lot went wrong. It's not easy for me to live while the others I cared about just dropped like flies. Course I got my brothers, and I'm thankful for that, but knowing that I'll outlive my own timeline is unthinkable.... I shouldn't even be alive right now, but I am."

Shu stayed quiet this time, mind blank as he begrudgingly listened.

"None of us had a great childhood, hell even a good one! Ya probably don't know this, and that's cause you shouldn't, so don't go blabberin yer mouth bout it! But...."

Yuma paused, apprehension thick in the air. It was almost suffocating.

"The world is a cruel place, humans are cruel. We were barely even teenagers when that guy came to us."

Shu was slightly taken aback, but refused to let it show. Still, that's how long that their precious father have been in contact with these people?

"What I'm gettin' at is, the world's unfair. But if you can bend it to your will, you can have anything nd anyone. But.... I'm not that sorta person, you are. So don't let anyone steal yer throne, or else I'll miss that look of jealousy on your face whenever I'm drinkin from yer sow over there."

Yuma chuckled at this, remembering just how fun it was to tease him. Shu on the other hand immediately became irritated once again and slapped his hands away.

"It's not jealous."

Yuma's eyes widened as he stroked his chin.

"Haa? Never would've taken ya to be the tsundere type.... Were my words so inspiring, you're finally revealing your true colours perhaps?"

Shu scoffed at this before walking towards Yui. But not before bumping his shoulder against Yuma's chest forcing him out the way.

"Oi! What was that about! Hey! I'm talkin to ya!"

Yuma said, extremely offended. Shu continued to walk over and picked up Yui's body. Her neck stained with the marks of her perpetrator. Shu scoffed once more before scanning her entire body.

"Relax I didn't kill her-"

Shu once again cut him off.

"You didn't bite her either."

Yuma casually walked towards the both of them.

"Eh? Oh, I wasn't in the mood. She was all on her knees prayin' and it gave me the heebie geebies."

Shu picked her up bridal style, the slow sounds of her breath the only noise in the entire building.

"Well I am. And she's unconscious so it's no fun. Do you finally see for yourself how much of a nuisance you Mukamis are?"

Now, it was Yuma's turn to scoff.

"You knew where she was all this time, why didn't you just take her?"

Shu walked closer to Yuma, Yui still limp in his arms. He gave a sadistic smirk.

"Because how else would you fulfill your plan?"

Yuma rolled his eyes and shouted out again.

"What the hell is with you and these coded messages!? What plan!?"

Shu dropped Yui harshly at his feet, her body rolling over to Yuma, uniform coming slightly undone as teeth marks that were previously hidden, now shone visibly on her thigh.

"Shit..."

Shu chuckled before looking directly at Yuma.

"Why'd you bite her exactly over my fang marks and not even bother to heal it properly?"

Yuma crossed his arms and pouted his lips.

"To claim dominance obviously!"

Shu stretched out his hand. Grasping a small strand of Yuma's hair, gently tugging on it until he reached the end of the strand.

"The fuck ya think yer doin' all of a sudden!?"

Shu's smile dropped as his voice rung deep within the church walls.

"You're more of a pervert than I thought. I'm just testing to see how far you'll go before I break you."

Yuma's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he stumbled backwards.

"A-are ya out of yer mind!? The hell's gotten into ya!?"

Shu grabbed his arm, forcing him to come back right in the very spot he left.

"I'm not as slow as you think I am. Don't deny it. All this time... You just wanted to get me alone by using my own prey as bait to lure me."

Yuma's expression only got worse as he struggled to make words connect, stumbling across his pronunciations instead, stuttering with every sentence.

"I-it's not like that! Bes-sides I'm not! I- I don't! I'm not into guys!"

Shu looked at him with a toothy grin before responding.

"What a lie."

In seconds, Shu's fangs were on him. His mouth coming in contact with his throat, almost as if trying to kill him. Teeth piercing into flesh that had never felt fangs before, skin writhing underneath as cold unsavory crimson flowed out. Yuma stood there paralyzed, eyes wide as he looked up towards the ceiling. Pain overtook his senses, but was immediately replaced with something more.

"Kuh- ya don't just.... Do that to people."

Was all he could mutter out. Of course, Shu didn't care. But, he did rip out his fangs from the wounded flesh to get a better look at his expression.

"Heh... You don't need to be into guys to enjoy pleasure when it's given to you. But by the look on your face, you already know this, right?"

Yuma looked at Shu, then slowly towards Yui.

"Course I know that.... I'm not some weak minded virgin like sow. But even so...."

Yuma immediately cut himself off as he watched the blood dribble down Shu's mouth. Not just any blood, but his blood. That's when it hit him.

"I'm... Bleeding. I can smell it."

Shu walked towards him, this time he was the one stepping over Yui.

"I know you like her."

Yuma was taken aback but decided to stand his ground.

"What's it to ya if I do? It ain't none of yer damn business!"

Shu looked to the floor. Silence once again.

"You mean that, don't you?"

Yuma hesitated before following his gaze to the floor.

"Course. She's.... Different."

Shu made a 'tsk' sound before angrily approaching Yuma, this time, getting so close that Yuma needed to back away.

"H-hey don't go gettin' mad at me! Seconds ago you were just at my throat!"

Shu scoffed before raising his head up, not even bothering to meet Yuma's gaze.

"I was just curious. Don't think too much about it, because there's nothing to think about."

Yuma felt his hands go clammy at his words.

"Wh-what.."

Before he could even fully process what Shu had meant, he was gone. Yui was gone as well, to no surprise of anyone. But still...

"Geez, what a weird guy..."

Author's note: heyyyyy guys guess who's back😍 sorry I abandoned you but hopefully you'll accept this as my formal apology. I love every one of you and I wanna say thanks for sticking with me even when I'm not my best, I really do appreciate the community we've built on this platform.❤❤

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 10.

viktorxfemale!OFC explicit!

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 5,7K

tag: #what was that

author’s note: @rennethen has beta read this and crafted an aftercare scene for this chapter! It's just fluff and smut people, they take a day off.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Renly slept wrapped around Viktor like a vine, her greedy arms encircling his frame, her face pressed tightly into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent all night. Her leg was thrown over his hip, hooking him close—though still unbearably not close enough. Her entire body rose and fell with the rhythm of his breaths.

Viktor didn’t mind—it was a sweet weight, grounding him and nesting him deep into the mattress. His body was sore and tired, but without the usual aches and tensions. And, most importantly, his mind was at peace. He stroked her hair and pressed his fingers to her temple, weakly attempting to wake her.

“Mmm… Viktor?” Renly took a deep breath, expanding her chest to press a little more firmly against his. She held him tighter, then asked, “Have I been crushing you all night?”

“Crushing?” He smiled softly, his voice hushed. “And here I was hoping it was an embrace of affection, not an attempt to crush me.” He murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead in a light, sleepy peck.

She smirked against his skin, her fingers tracing idle patterns across his chest. “Maybe a bit of both. I can’t help it. You’re just… easy to hold on to.”

“So,” Viktor began, his voice still low and warm, as if savouring the night between them in his tone. “Did you… enjoy yourself last night?”

Renly thought back to it, facing it from afar for the first time. His touch—deliberate and firm, yet gentle throughout—his eyes never leaving her, studying her carefully as if she were a puzzle he both could and had to crack. All the attention she had received during. And after.

He had gently slid her off him, given her a lingering kiss, and disappeared into the bathroom. She had no idea how long he’d been gone—time had stretched itself, a blink or an eternity—while she lay there, listening to the soft rush of water from the tap and the quiet sound of his footsteps on the tiles.

The tap of his cane on the wooden floor announced his return before she felt the warmth between her thighs. A washcloth, soft and soothing, eased down her soreness, cleaning his seed from between her legs with deliberate, careful attention. Another cloth pressed to her chest, wiping away the sweat that had cooled and left her shivering. A trail of kisses followed, scattered across her body as he performed his ministrations. She heard Viktor’s voice, low and tender, asking if she was alright. And then his warm chuckle when she barely managed to hum a ‘yes.’

He pulled her upright, guiding her toward the bathroom. “You have to pee after sex,” he murmured into her ear, and she snorted despite herself. Always on top of things.

By the time she returned, the bed was made fresh—the old sheets folded neatly by the door. Viktor shuffled on the mattress to reach for her, pulling her back into his arms. She tumbled into his embrace, awash in bliss.

Viktor held her close, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear, lulling her toward sleep. Their bodies entwined, filling each other’s gaps. As her breathing deepened, the last things she remembered were the feel of his lips pressed to her forehead, the skin of his chest warm beneath her palms, and his hair tickling her face.

Renly hesitated, her lips parting but not quite finding the words. The question seemed so simple, yet everything from the night before swirled inside her, tangled in a way she wasn’t quite ready to untangle.

“It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting,” she said after a moment, trying to keep her voice steady, though her heart beat a little faster with the admission.

Viktor’s brow furrowed slightly, though the amusement in his eyes never faded. “Not what you expected?” he repeated, leaning in a little closer, his fingers brushing through her hair in a slow, gentle rhythm. “Did I not meet your expectations?”

“No, that’s not it,” she quickly corrected, feeling the weight of the moment shift. “It’s really an overstatement to say I would dare expect anything after my futile attempts to get your attention,” she said, giving Viktor a look that meant she wasn’t finished, so it wasn’t his cue to protest just yet.

“So, if we state that I did have expectations, you... exceeded them. I just…” She trailed off, biting her lip in a way that made Viktor’s pulse quicken. “I thought you might be... more shy about it. Not so... sure of yourself. Domineering.”

A quiet chuckle escaped him, and he tilted his head, studying her. “Shy?” he asked, his voice betraying a hint of mockery. “I thought I had made it clear I had no reason to be shy.”

Renly glanced up at him, her eyes searching his face for the right words. “Well, I suppose I thought... I thought maybe you’d be more shy. More reserved. But it wasn’t like that at all.” She paused, her fingers grazing his skin absently as she added, “I didn’t expect you to be so confident.”

Viktor’s gaze softened, a quiet understanding in his eyes. “It took me a long time to come around,” he said, his tone almost reflective. “Not because I wasn’t interested, but because my situation... it’s not one that makes room for hesitation. For fear, even. I’ve had to learn to rely on my mind, to keep up.” His eyes met hers, his expression serious.

“That’s the part of me that I rely on. The strength of my mind, my intellect. It perhaps could be seen as a compensation for my body’s limitations,” he said quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention to that fact. “But the experience I’ve gained has granted me the realization that this is the way I like to cherish my partners. If it is not to your liking, be honest with me—I will adjust, reform.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and she tried not to let her surprise show. “I—” she started, her voice quiet, “Viktor, I loved every second of it.”

“Which I believe was quite easy to spot,” she chuckled slightly, trying to unload the tension in herself.

“Hmm, once or twice, maybe. Though, by my calculations, it was something around three,” Viktor teased her, visibly pleased by her praise. “We all have our time, Renly. I’m not rushing you. But I need to ask—did I hurt you? Did I miss something?”

“No,” she whispered, her hand instinctively moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. “No, you didn’t. It’s just... new. And I don’t think I’ve been this vulnerable in a long time. The initiative of this kind was usually on me in the past, you see.”

Viktor’s expression softened further, and he gently cupped her face in his hand. “Then it seems in matters of vulnerability, we are in the same place,” he murmured.

“And Viktor, I—” she tried to find the words to express her adoration without sounding trite. “To say your body is limited after last night would be a horrific lie,” she paused, thoughts forming. “I’ve complimented you more than once, but maybe I have to do it until it lands properly—you are absolutely breathtaking. Perfect, even.”

Viktor’s brows furrowed slightly in surprise, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Is that so?”

A quiet, pleased laugh escaped Viktor as he met her gaze, his hand brushing through her hair with a softness that matched the moment. “You’re not so bad yourself, Renly,” he teased, the warmth in his voice betraying his usual reserved nature.

Renly raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting in a playful smirk. “Not so bad, huh? You think I’m ‘not so bad,’ Viktor?”

Viktor, feeling emboldened by her words, leaned in just slightly, his breath grazing her lips as he whispered, “If you only knew.”

“You’ve asked me once what drives me, curiosity or conviction, remember?” he said, recalling their earlier conversation in the lab when Renly had tried to probe his thoughts for hints of humanity.

“It rings a bell,” she teased, brushing her thumb across his lower lip, remembering the moment beat for beat.

“Curiosity was what drove me to you. And now we are here because you became my conviction. Conviction born of curiosity; I told you it was entirely possible,” he said, closing his eyes as he suckled on Renly’s thumb. The moment was so thick with intensity that heat began to pool in her underbelly.

“Are you saying you’re obsessed with me now, Viktor?” she tried for cheeky, but it came out more like a plea.

Viktor’s lips quirked into a slow, deliberate smile as his gaze roamed over her face, his voice dipping into a low, velvety tone. “If I am, Renly, you have only yourself to blame. A brilliant mind paired with temptation—how could I resist?”

Seeing her flush, he added triumphantly, “And now my dearest conviction, you are on coffee duty.”

“Is that my fate now? A slave, at the mercy of a brilliant scientist?” she exclaimed dramatically, only to stop mid-performance, her eyes glinting with anticipation. “Wait… does this mean? The best-kept secret of this universe will finally be revealed?”

“You wish. Just bring the sugar with you,” Viktor chuckled. Maybe one day he would tell her how much sugar he took with his coffee, but today was not that day.

“Enjoy it while it lasts. I’ll have to go to work at some point,” she said, sitting up and reluctantly leaving Viktor’s warmth behind.

Viktor’s expression shifted, the mischievous glint in his eyes returning as he gave a small shake of his head. “No, you won’t. I’ve already taken care of it,” he said, his tone almost smug. “We can have the day to ourselves if you want.”

She blinked, the words not quite processing at first. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he continued, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “I’ve postponed the tasks for today. We have the day to ourselves, if you want it.”

Renly stared at him for a moment, surprise evident in her eyes. “You did what?”

He shrugged lightly, a half-smile playing on his lips. “I thought you might appreciate a day without distractions. We both deserve a break.”

For a brief moment, she just watched him, trying to understand why he’d taken the initiative to do something so unexpected. “I didn’t think you’d ever—” She paused, searching for the right words, unsure if she was hiding her amazement or if she truly couldn’t believe it. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to just... take a day off.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I can surprise you, can’t I?” He leaned back, his hands resting behind his head, looking relaxed in a way she had rarely seen. “It’s a luxury, yes, but sometimes it’s the most important thing. I’ve been working nonstop for months. We deserve to take a breath.”

Renly’s chest tightened slightly as she let his words sink in. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

His grin widened just a little. “I’ve been known to consider all angles before making a decision.”

“Clearly,” Renly said, her voice soft with admiration. “You’ve thought about a lot more than just work.”

Viktor met her gaze, his smile slowly shifting into something more serious, more thoughtful. “It’s not just work that defines us, Renly. It’s everything else. Sometimes, we need to... feel something outside of our work, outside of our research. To remind us there’s more to life.”

Her heart stilled for a moment as she stared at him, the weight of his words settling over her. “I would love to stay here then. If you will have me.”

Viktor’s eyes softened. He cupped her face in both hands. “Oh, I will have you. I will be having you until you tire of me,” he said in a deep, hushed voice, placing longing kisses on her face. “Come now, I’ll show you around my place.”

***

After a brief tour of his apartment, they settled back in the bedroom. Renly’s eyes roamed over Viktor’s shelves, lighting up as she periodically exclaimed whenever she spotted a book she wanted to read.

“I will share anything you ask me for,” he said finally, chuckling as yet another “What about this one?” was tossed his way for the fifth time.

“That remains to be seen,” she replied sweetly, turning away from the books to look at him. Her gaze landed on Viktor as he sat on the bed, fastening his braces back on, and for a moment, she felt like she shouldn’t be watching.

Viktor caught the slight shift in her posture, the way she pivoted nervously. The corner of his eye softened as a familiar warmth spread through his chest.

“Renly, it is fine,” he said gently, then patted the space beside him, beckoning her to sit. “Come here—I will show you.”

Renly hesitated for a moment before crossing the room and settling beside him on the bed. Her curiosity outweighed her nerves as Viktor turned to face her, his amber eyes warm, yet measured.

He began with the chest brace, lifting the edge of his shirt to reveal the intricate framework she’d glimpsed before. “You’ve seen this already,” he said softly, tracing a finger along the metal ridges. “It keeps my posture balanced and my spine intact.”

Her brows knit together as she studied the brace, her gaze flitting between the metal and his steady hands. “Does it hurt?” she asked quietly.

“Periodically, yes,” Viktor admitted, his voice calm. “If I don’t secure it properly, it can press in ways it shouldn’t, as you may know. But I’ve learned to manage.”

Her fingers hovered hesitantly over the brace before she pulled them back, unsure. “Do you take it off every day?”

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “No. It’s... a hassle to put back on, so I only remove it when absolutely necessary.” He paused, his gaze flickering toward her, something unspoken glinting in his eyes. “Sometimes, I take it off to sleep. When I want more freedom of movement.”

Renly’s cheeks warmed as his words hung in the air, the hint of their shared night unmistakable. She lowered her eyes briefly, but when she looked back up, he was watching her with quiet amusement, as if savouring her reaction.

“And this,” Viktor continued, gesturing toward the brace on his leg, “is a little more complicated.” He adjusted his position, angling himself so she could see better. “It supports the muscles and joints. Keeps me mobile.”

Renly leaned closer, her fingers itching to explore the mechanism. Viktor seemed to sense her hesitation, gently guiding her hand to the edge of the brace. “Here,” he murmured, his voice low. “Feel this.”

His hand rested lightly over hers, guiding her fingers along the sleek metal and carefully crafted supports. Her breath caught as she realized how intimate the moment was—not just the closeness, but the way he trusted her, the way he let her in.

“It’s like your armour,” she said softly, her voice almost reverent.

“Yes,” Viktor agreed, his tone steady. “It is my armour. It protects me, allows me to move forward.” He shifted, his gaze locking with hers. “And now... you are the only one who will see me without it.”

Her heart stuttered at the weight of his words. She didn’t know what to say, only that she didn’t want to break the fragile spell between them. So instead, she leaned her head lightly against his shoulder, her hand still resting on his brace.

“I don’t think you need it as much as you think,” she said after a long silence, her voice soft but firm.

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that rumbled through his chest. “Perhaps not,” he murmured. “But it is a part of me now. As much as anything else.”

Renly closed her eyes for a moment, letting the quiet intimacy settle over them. Beside her, Viktor shifted, his hand reaching for his coffee cup.

“Oh, don’t tell me—did I miss it?” she whined in mock disappointment, narrowing her eyes at the mug in his hand. The secret to how much sugar floated in Viktor’s coffee still eluded her.

“It would appear so,” he said smugly, taking a deliberate sip as if to taunt her.

She folded her arms with a theatrical huff before his next question caught her off guard. “What would you like to do today?”

Renly tilted her head, musing for a moment, before a sly smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t want to step a foot outside of this apartment today, if you catch my meaning,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. “But I am desperate. For a shower.”

“That,” Viktor replied, brushing his fingers lazily through her hair, “I can arrange.” He paused, tilting his head as his hand slid to her shoulder. “Would you mind some company? I might finally get my back properly washed now that I have you around.” His lips curled into a smirk as he swiftly pulled her closer, his clever deflection earning a laugh from her.

Renly couldn’t resist. “Back to the slave labour. Yes, Master Viktor, I will wash your back. I exist to serve you,” she said, her voice dripping with exaggerated submission.

But the playful glint in Viktor’s eyes dimmed ever so slightly, replaced by something darker, something intent. “You will be careful with giving me ideas, Renly,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a lower, sultry register.

Her breath caught as he leaned in, his next words a whispered tease against her lips. “I told you I get inspired easily.”

And then he kissed her, before she could reply.

***

They undressed each other again, faster than the last time, yet still unhurried and comfortable in their rhythm. Viktor smirked as her fingers nimbly worked at his shirt.

“You’re doing much better with the buttons today than you did last night,” he teased, earning a huff of mock offense from her.

“Don’t test me, Master Viktor,” she shot back, shushing him into the shower before he could counter.

The water was warm, steam curling around them as Renly settled behind him, her hands gentle but deliberate as she washed his back. She pressed her palms to his shoulders, kneaded the knots in his neck, and brushed over the base of his skull. Viktor’s quiet sighs of contentment filled the space, unguarded and vulnerable, and Renly couldn’t help but smile.

“So, Master Viktor,” she began again, theatrics dripping from her voice, forcing a chuckle from him. “Pray tell, when I prepare your coffee in the morning, how do you take it? White? Black? Insufferably sweet?”

Her grin widened when Viktor groaned, head tilted back under the spray. He turned to face her, the water catching in his hair and running down the sharp lines of his face. “Gods, you are not letting this go, are you?” he laughed, rich and wholehearted in a way that stunned her into silence.

She stilled, momentarily awestruck by him—Viktor, laughing freely, sunlight streaming into the room and making his happiness something golden, something rare.

“You are so persistent,” he said, his voice softer now, though the smile lingered at the edges of his mouth.

“And I will remind you,” Renly countered, her tone knowing as she cupped his cheek, thumb brushing his damp skin, “that we’ve got my stubbornness to thank for standing here, in this shower, together, today.”

She pressed a small, lingering kiss to his lips, her smile curving against his mouth before pulling back. “And…” Her eyes danced mischievously. “You keeping secrets this early into the relationship, Viktor—it just doesn’t bode well, you understand.”

Viktor’s laughter bubbled up again, softer this time, as his arms slid instinctively around her. “I will take my chances,” he murmured, his gaze fond, amused, and wholly devoted.

“And I will not.” Before Viktor understood what she meant, he could feel her warm hand travelling down his belly to the base of his cock. He shuddered at the first touch, startled. “Renly, I—” Viktor hesitated, his voice caught between what he wanted to say and the vulnerability that held him back. “I can’t give anything back to you, here.”

“I’m not expecting you to,” she replied softly, her touch warm as she placed a reassuring hand on his cheek. “But I would like to give something to you, if you’ll allow me.”

Viktor only nodded slowly, his eyes closing in a moment of quiet surprise, his breath caught by the unexpectedness of her words and her gesture. “It will take more than this to break me, little fox,” he said, his eyes still closed, a smile lingering on his lips.

“Oh? Master Viktor, do I hear a challenge?” she said, dragging one finger across his length with a deliberate leisure. She wrapped her fingers around him, gliding her first slowly up and down, stilling her movement slightly when she reached the head. Viktor rested his forehead against hers, his lips parted. Small, surprised groans escaped his throat, making her own core flutter.

She was testing him, measuring and checking everything she had learnt the night before. She pulled his cock gently away from his belly, only to release it, so it slapped back against his skin, having earned herself… a giggle? He giggled. She kept searching within him, noting every movement that seemed to bring him pleasure, etching it into the palace of her mind.

Feeling him fully stiff in her grasp, she added her second palm to cover all of his length. She slid one hand up and down the base of him, her index finger applying occasional gentle pressure to the perineum, making soft whimpers fall from his mouth. Her other hand twisted around his head in a circular movement, spreading the pre-cum that wept at the top of his cock. When the warm water stopped acting as a sufficient lubrication, she deliberately pulled one hand away, only to spit on it theatrically, making sure his gaze followed her.

Viktor watched her movements from underneath hooded eyelids, unable to close his mouth, his brows furrowed in a mix of pleasure and focus. His body twitched underneath her touch, shivers jolting up and down his spine, causing his lower belly to tie into a deliciously painful knot. His fingers were digging into the flesh of her hips and his own hips kept rolling gently into her hands.

She coated his cock in her saliva and Viktor awarded her with a long breathy moan. She wondered if this was how he had felt last night when she was writhing underneath him. If yes, it would have sipped pride into her chest, being able to make him feel like this. Even though his body flexed and strained against her, he was full of quiet grace that she admired with round eyes.

When Viktor started whispering her name distantly, she slid one of her hands below the base of his cock to massage his balls. She was careful with his hot, delicate skin, pulling him gently and applying pressure as his expressions guided her. His breaths began coming in short pants and she could see the muscles of his abdomen contracting in need.

Feeling her fingers work around his head and balls at the same time, Viktor moaned helplessly, leaning his weight on her shoulder, his other hand propped against the wall. He dipped his head to give her a rough, hungry kiss, all teeth and tongue. “More,” he pleaded hoarsely against her lips. “Torture me, Renly,” he whimpered, strain in his voice, but Renly could feel the smirk dancing on his mouth. “Do with me as you see fit, I am at your mercy.” His hot breath washed over her face, and she could feel a knot tying itself in her core.

“Viktor,” she whispered, searching his eyes for any protest, but they were filled only with a lustful haze. She took the image of him in—warmth radiating of him, his red cheeks, pupils so blown the golden rings around them were barely visible, his brows tight and skin glistening with sweat and water. He looked so beautiful, and it was all her doing.

“Please,” he begged her, his pleasure imminent. She sped up her movements, guided by Viktor’s expressions and the sweet sounds his mouth made against her lips. With heavy, audible sighs and his fingers squeezing her shoulder so tight they guaranteed leaving a mark, he spilled himself into her hand, onto her belly, his body hot, wantonly propped against hers.

“Forgive me, I—” Viktor whispered, his breath coming in heavy gasps. “Renly, I...” This time, it was him who struggled to find his words. “I’ve never... before...” Stumbling over the sensation, he tried to give it a name, but he couldn’t.

“Have I achieved the impossible? Are you at a loss for words, my dear scholar?” she smirked, quoting his own words back to him. “But—” she added swiftly, “never apologise to me for this.”

“You are unreal,” he finally breathed out, gulping the water still streaming down his face, baring his teeth in a genuine smile. Then, he pulled her in for one more kiss—slow, tender, and grateful. Leaning toward her ear, he whispered, “Six.”

Renly let out an exaggerated gasp, her face a picture of mock shock at the sugar revelation. “But I might cut down now that you’re around.”

***

“You have caught me off guard today.” They lay resting after the shower, bodies still warm, limbs entangled on the bed.

“I can surprise you too, can’t I?” Renly grinned to herself; her head nestled against Viktor’s stomach.

He chuckled at her playful use of his own words, the sound making her body shake with his laughter.

“I see this is your preferred method to serve justice—death by one’s own sword?” he asked, his arm curling around her shoulders, fingers tracing small circles on her arm.

“You’ve known me long enough to know I take no prisoners,” Renly said with a smile, rolling to spread herself across his chest.

“Certainly. And you’ve known me long enough to know that living on the edge is the only way for me. So I came, like a moth to the flame.” He dragged a finger from the top of her forehead, down her nose, lips, to her chin. She closed her eyes, a gentle hum escaping her lips as she accepted the caress.

“But as I have you here, I’ve come to the realization that some data is missing.” His hand settled on her back. “Like, for example”—he smirked slightly, referring to all the times Renly sang something silly during work—“where does your undeniable musical talent come from, or—” His voice lingered as his finger traced the black line encircling her body. „This.”

Renly propped herself up on her elbow, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the tattoo, as if reminding herself of its presence. “Ah,” she said with a sly tilt of her head. “I noted you taking your time with it yesterday.”

Her tone was curious, teasing, though a note of challenge—almost daring—lurked beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered. “But you knew I had it before yesterday, yes?”

Viktor hummed softly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he shifted under her gaze. “I may have observed it, once or twice,” he admitted, voice measured and smooth, though his eyes gleamed with mischief. “It intrigued me.”

Renly narrowed her eyes, folding her arms over her chest with theatrical suspicion. “And please enlighten me,” she pressed, arching a brow. “How did you manage to observe something that is perpetually hidden under my clothes?”

Viktor tilted his head with exaggerated deliberation, his smile curling into something thoroughly unapologetic. “Ah, you see. One has to be creative.” He paused for effect, raising a finger as though beginning a lecture. “Like, for example, catching a glimpse of your belly when you violate safety measures at work and hop onto stools to retrieve something. Or…” He allowed the silence to stretch just enough before adding, “stare at you shamelessly as you nap on the couch after indulging in a romance book.”

Renly gasped, pressing a hand to her heart with a theatrical flourish of mock outrage. “Viktor, you perverted degenerate!”

His grin broadened, unrepentant as ever, and he spread his arms wide, a picture of dramatized innocence. “That is me, every last bit,” he said. “I plead guilty—I spy on my beautiful colleagues, make them give me massages, cure my afflictions, and terrorize them into sleeping with me, eventually.”

Renly snorted, laughter escaping before she could stop it. “And what is the success rate of that method?” she asked, leaning closer, her voice laced with dry amusement.

Viktor rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as though weighing the question with grave importance. “Given that I only had one test subject, the method proved a hundred percent success.” His eyes twinkled with satisfaction as he leaned back against the pillow. “And as I am happy with my results and have decided to conclude my tests, I will now name my method ‘The Viktor’ and pass it on to future generations of frustrated lab workers.”

“You are impossible.” Renly groaned, flopping onto her back as though crushed beneath the weight of his words. “But… I am glad that you are happy with your results.”

“I am thrilled. This… is more than I’ve ever had, with anyone, Renly,” his voice gaining seriousness, though his expression remained gentle. “Well?” He probed her, glancing over the ink markings once again.

"I finally get to see all of this. I would have never guessed where it travels," Viktor’s eyes wandered around her body, taking in the intricate pattern of her tattoo, his voice tinged with quiet admiration.

"And I would have thought your imagination to be bolder after your little display, Viktor," Renly said with a teasing smile, her eyes glinting as she raised an eyebrow at him, her fingers brushing the edge of the tattoo near her shoulder.

"Oh trust me, I was very bold in my fantasies about it. Which is why I would have never guessed," Viktor replied, his mouth curving into a smirk, leaning slightly forward as his gaze lingered on her.

"Viktor! Now I must know! Fantasies? Of what?" Renly leaned in, her tone playful but her curiosity evident, her fingers now tracing the delicate curve near her hip.

"No, I will not allow it! I veto this question as mine was first!" Viktor said with a quick, mocking frown, his hand coming up to gently push her back, his tone light but firm.

"As long as you promise we can come back to mine later," Renly grinned, shifting slightly as she relaxed back against the pillows, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"That I can promise," Viktor answered, nodding seriously, but his eyes softening, a brief smile playing at his lips.

"Alright then. My mother did it for me when I was sixteen—a rite of passage," Renly explained, her fingers moving to trace the lines of the tattoo on her leg, her voice slowing as she thought of the memory. "It’s a ‘lifeline.’ It tells of everything that was, and everything that is going to be." She looked up at him, a slight frown on her face. "Which is why the line up to my sixteenth birthday is on the front of me, and everything else is on my back, where I can’t see it."

"So, what do those patterns mean?" Viktor asked, his brow furrowing in curiosity as his gaze followed the path of her fingers.

"Turbulences. Changes. Complex, and less complex events. You can tell which is which." Renly’s fingers lingered on a curl near her hip, her expression thoughtful. "I think this is you. Where I can almost see it, but not exactly. Like, I could have seen it coming, but I could have also missed it."

"What a delightful spot to be placed upon your body." Viktor’s lips curved into a teasing smile, his fingers brushing over the edge of the tattoo near her waist. "But this means… you were raised in a gang that tattooed children, yes?"

"Yes, but it died out because we ate all of our young," Renly said with a dry laugh, her tone light, though her eyes remained warm.

"It’s a tradition. All girls get it," she added, shifting slightly to face him more directly, her eyes meeting his with a seriousness that contrasted her earlier jest. "And yes, my mom was a witch."

"Yet here you are, a woman of science. What went wrong?" Viktor asked, the hint of a smirk still on his face, his eyes searching hers with gentle curiosity, his hand resting loosely on her arm.

"Bad parenting?" Renly replied with a dry smile, her hand brushing lightly against his chest as she relaxed into him, the humour fading from her voice for a moment.

There was a long pause, the weight of her words hanging in the air as Renly leaned against him, her breath slow and steady. Viktor shifted slightly, his voice quieter, almost hesitant.

"If I may ask—what happened to your parents?" Viktor asked softly, his fingers brushing her hair away from her face, his gaze lingering on her with concern.

"They died on the bridge when I was eighteen," Renly replied, her voice quieter now, her eyes distant as she closed them for a brief moment, recalling the pain.

"I am terribly sorry for your loss," Viktor said gently, his voice filled with quiet empathy, his hand resting lightly on her back.

"It is… alright. It was a long time ago," Renly murmured, her voice steady despite the sadness. "They secured my future, and I am grateful for the time we had." She shifted slightly, meeting Viktor's gaze. "Yours? She asked carefully, sensing that Viktor’s story was similar to hers on this part.

Viktor was silent for a moment, his gaze darkening as he seemed to consider his words carefully. Renly, sensing his hesitation, reached up and touched his cheek lightly, her voice soft and understanding.

"I don’t mind if you don’t want to tell me, now or ever, Viktor," she said quietly, her eyes full of sincerity. "It matters to me the man you are now, not what brought you here. You understand?"

"Thank you," Viktor said, his voice thick with gratitude. "I appreciate it. And I appreciate that you shared this part of you with me." He paused, his eyes meeting hers. "It means a lot."

Renly smiled faintly, shifting closer, her fingers trailing along his jaw, her voice teasing as she spoke again. "Well, now you can pay me back, you know… the fantasies?" “How about I show you what I have envisioned?” His voice matched her tease as his hands crowded her, pulling her closer—it was never close enough for him.

[rainroses45]

۶ৎ Disease ۶ৎ

۶ৎdescription: What if Dean didn’t go to hell but Sam did…and he finds him a little sinner who knows exactly what he needs (Sam Winchester x Demon Fem!Reader) ۶ৎa/n: I love this song so much and i wrote this at 2:36 am and i barely finished decorating it..umm oh my friend bella is here and she says hi :) (NOT EDITED) ۶ৎsong inspo: Disease - Lady Gaga ۶ৎwarning: blood, chains, hell, sam is a bottom? does that count i don’t know, YALL BETTER THANK YOUR LUCKY STARS @lovelolaslove WAS NICE ENOUGH TO WRITE A NSFW SCENE CAUSE I WAS NOT (handjob you know the rest)

The room swayed like a phantasmagoria, everything around him distorted, flickering in and out of focus. His breath comes in quick, shallow gasps, his body trembling with the fever of longing. He's so close-he can almost feel her, taste her. The chains are still there, but they feel weightless now, like a distant memory. All that matters is the figure dancing in his mind, the phantom he can never escape.

"I could be the doctor," her voice purrs through the fog of his mind, "I could cure your disease, baby." The words are a soft coo. Promises laced with sin and dripping with his ecstasy. She is in his head now, tangled in his thoughts, her presence overwhelming him, teasing him, haunting him.

He's slipping, drowning in the delusion of her. Like a sailor being lured to a sirens call, his mind was wrapped around her waiting for her to take a bite out of him. Let her suck his blood up with a simple kiss, and devour him in a single gulp.

He jerks his head toward the sound of her voice, but all he finds is darkness. He reaches out-his fingertips grazing nothing but air. The room is empty, cold. The only sound is the rustling of chains, as he tries to reach his lady in red.

"Eyes rolled back in ecstasy..." her voice echoes again, but this time, it's just a whisper.

It's everywhere, pressing against him, suffocating him.

He can hear it in every beat of his heart, feel it in the thrum of his pulse. His body aches, feverish, desperate for her to appear. He can't see her, but he feels her like a flame licking at his skin, like she's all around him, just out of reach.

He moans, his body fighting against the chains, desperate to break free, desperate to be closer to her. "Please," he breathes, his voice low, hoarse.

"Please, I need you... cure me... cure me, baby..." His mind spins further, caught in the pull of the delusion that she's real, that she's right there, waiting to save him.

But she's not there. The silence is all-consuming, the room colder than ever. He shivers, eyes squeezed shut, as the words twist in his head.

"I can smell your sickness... I can cure your disease," she murmured her voice now a seductive, taunting hum. It cuts through his thoughts, cutting deeper, driving him further into madness. The weight of her words presses down on him, squeezing every ounce of clarity from his brain, until there's nothing left but the desperate need to feel her, to be healed by her love. To be fucked by her.

He opens his eyes, blinking furiously, trying to find her, but it's no use. She's not there, and yet she is, like a dark shadow looming over him. "Where are you?" His voice is shaky, filled with the quiet madness of someone losing their grip on everything they once knew.

"Where are you? Please... I can't... I need you..I need you to help me!"

The air is thick with the scent of him-sick, broken, desperate-and it's almost like he can taste the sickness in the air, feel it on his skin. But she's not there to save him.

Her voice is a whisper, soft and insidious, like a poison seeping into his bloodstream.

It wraps around his mind, pulling him further into the madness. Her presence is a weight on his chest, a comforting pressure he can't escape. A pressure building up way below his mind, a pressure so tightening it caused him to shift against the chains in need for some sort of friction.

"Lay me your desire," she purrs, the words curling around him like smoke. "I could cure your disease." The way she says it-cure-like it's more than just a word. It's a promise. It's a spell. It's everything he's ever wanted.

His body twitches at the sound of her voice, aching with the hunger for her touch, for the mercy she offers, even though she's not truly there.

His hands strain against the chains, aching to break free, to reach out and touch her. He's lost, consumed by this hallucination, and yet, somehow, he craves it more than anything, “Please..." he gasps, his voice barely a whisper, laced with longing.

"Please... cure me..."

She laughs softly, a sound that feels like silk against his skin, and her voice drops lower, more seductive, as though she knows exactly how to push him over the edge.

"If you were a sinner, baby," she says, each word dripping with promise, "I could make you believe."

The air shifts, and he shudders at the thought, imagining her fingers trailing over his skin, tracing the sins he's buried deep inside. She knows. She knows everything. He doesn't even have to tell her. She sees him. All of him.

"I know all your secrets," she breathes, her voice so close now, it's like she's right behind him, her breath hot against his ear. He turns his head, but still, there's no one there. His heart hammers in his chest, his mind reeling from the intensity of her words.

The silence presses in, thick and suffocating, as the delusion begins to consume him entirely. She knows everything about him.

Everything. His sins. His desires. The things he's hidden away in the dark corners of his soul. She's the one who sees through it all, who can make it all better, can make him whole again.

His breath comes faster now, erratic, like he's drowning.

She's going to fix him. She's going to cure him. All he has to do is let go.

"I'm yours," he whispers, his voice trembling with raw need, the chains rattling softly as his body shudders under the weight of her imagined touch.

"Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Please... cure me... make me believe."

Her laugh dances through his mind, light, almost like a lullaby. "I already do, baby," she purrs, her voice curling around him like velvet. "I always have."

She knelt in front of him, her nails raking lightly against his chest, trailing down to hover just above his sternum. He tenses slightly, eyes filled with desperation, he watches her with lidded eyes, mouth slightly open, as she palms him through his pants, leaving him a pathetic mess.

“Please, please…” she smirks. “Please what?” She continues her ministrations and Sam feels as though he could tear through the chains keeping him from touching her if it meant he could get her to touch him more.

He whines slightly, “please touch me— touch me more, please” as he speaks her hands make there way into his pants, dragging them down, and she wraps them loosely around his cock, stroking until a steady trail of pre cum oozes from the tip.

“But darling, i am touching you, don’t be so greedy.” She tsks.

Sam is already shaking his head, “no—ngh— not enough, please baby please… i’m begging you” his temptation pouts playfully “oh alright, since you begged so nicely” her hands tighten firmly around his cock, tugging and twisting until Sam is a whimpering mess, his hips thrusting into her hands for more friction.

“Yea, you like that baby? like my hands around your cock?” Sam nods, beads of sweat dripping down the side of his forehead and he looks down at his little devil, watching the way she has a slight smile on her face as she strokes his cock. “I- i’m close baby, please..” she looks up at him, pouting. “So soon? that’s alright, come for me baby." She gave a quick kiss to the pink tip before increasing the speed, hand tightening around his tip, thumb gliding over it, and Sam?

Sam can’t take it anymore, he cums with a groan, eyes shut as if in pain though he is far from it. His cum splashes onto his chest. His body shudders as he comes down from his high. She watches him closely, movements slowing until she removes her hand, licking the remnants of what she did to him clean.

“Oh baby," she moaned. "I hope you got more in you cause you are simply delicious.” And oh- sweet lovely Sam prayed he did.

PLS GO SUPPORT MY FRIEND SHE HAS SO MANY DRAFTS OF ONESHOTS SO GO FOLLOW AND LOVE HER STUFF SHE IS AMAZING @lovelolaslove

[scrollonso]

Cinnamon — Strollonso (8) (prev)

A month.

That’s how long it had been since Fernando had heard from Lance.

His group was still attending his lectures every week and turning in their assignments on time, but it wasn’t the same. Lance’s laughter wasn’t there to light up the room, nor was his curious gaze that always lingered a second too long.

It wasn’t his boy’s group.

Fernando had tried not to dwell on it, convincing himself that Lance was just busy or laying low to keep their secret safe. But as the weeks turned into a month, the ache in his chest grew heavier.

One afternoon, Fernando found himself wandering aimlessly through the aisles of a nearby market, trying to distract himself from the constant emptiness he felt. He was debating between two brands of coffee when he heard a familiar voice.

“Professor Alonso?”

Fernando turned, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes landed on Lance. He looked different — brighter, in a way, but there was a stiffness in his posture that Fernando couldn’t ignore.

“Lance,” Fernando breathed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Lance offered a hesitant smile. “Hi.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Fernando’s instinct was to reach out, to touch him, to hold him, but something in Lance’s expression stopped him.

“It’s been a while,” Fernando said, keeping his tone neutral.

“Yeah,” Lance said, shifting uncomfortably. He glanced around, as if making sure no one was watching.

“How have you been?” Fernando asked, his eyes searching Lance’s face for any sign of the warmth he remembered.

“I’ve been…” Lance hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I’ve been good. Really good, actually.”

Fernando frowned. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Lance’s jaw tightened, and he looked down at the floor. “I had to,” he said quietly.

Fernando’s heart sank. “Why?”

Lance looked up, meeting his eyes with a resolve that Fernando hadn’t seen before. “Because what we did… it was a mistake.”

The words hit Fernando like a punch to the gut. “A mistake?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lance nodded, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “I’ve been spending time with my dad. Going to shul every Shabbat, praying daily with the kohen. I’ve realized that… that what I felt for you wasn’t right. It was the satan in me, pulling me away from God’s path.”

Fernando’s chest tightened, his hands trembling as he set the coffee down. “Lance, fuck, you can’t seriously believe that—”

“I do,” Lance interrupted, his voice firm. “I have to believe it. It’s the only way I can make sense of everything.”

Fernando took a step closer, his voice soft and desperate. “Lance, what we had wasn’t evil. It wasn’t wrong. It was real.”

Lance’s eyes glistened, but he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve made my choice. I’m back on God’s path now, and I can’t… I can’t let myself stray again. My dad has business opprotunities lined up for me and at this rate i'll graduate a whole semester early.”

Fernando felt his heart shatter. “Is that really how you feel?”

Lance hesitated, his resolve faltering for a brief moment — is it? But then he nodded. “Yes.”

Fernando took a step back, his hands falling to his sides. “If that’s what you want,” he said quietly.

“It is,” Lance said, though his voice wavered.

They stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of their unspoken emotions hanging heavily between them.

“Goodbye, Professor,” Lance said finally, turning to leave.

Fernando watched him go, his chest aching with every step Lance took away from him. He wanted to call out, to stop him, but he knew it wouldn’t change anything.

Lance barely made it through the door of his house before the tears started. He nodded stiffly at his father, who was seated in the living room, before retreating upstairs to his bathroom.

Once the lock clicked behind him, the floodgates opened. Lance sank to the cool tile floor, burying his face in his hands as sobs wracked his body. His shoulders heaved with the force of it, the weight of everything he’d been holding in finally crashing down on him.

The image of Fernando’s face — hurt, desperate, pleading — replayed over and over in his mind. His words had been so final, so resolute, and yet his heart screamed that it wasn’t true. That he didn’t believe any of it. That he was lying to Fernando, to himself, to everyone.

He cried until his throat burned, his chest aching from the effort. He barely registered the sound of his father’s footsteps on the stairs, the soft knock at the bathroom door.

“Lance?” Lawrence’s voice was cautious, concerned. “Are you okay?”

Lance pressed his hands to his mouth, trying to stifle his sobs, but it was useless.

“Lance, open the door, my boy.”

His father’s tone was gentle, but firm, and Lance knew he wouldn’t go away. With trembling hands, he reached up and unlocked the door before retreating to the corner of the bathroom, his knees pulled tightly to his chest.

Lawrence stepped inside, his expression softening instantly when he saw his son. “Oh, Lance…” Suddenly the boy in front of him had went back in time ten years, it was as though his nineteen year old son was crying over how the kids at school called him mean names all over again. It hurt Lawrence more than anything else.

Without hesitation, he crossed the room and knelt beside him, pulling him into a firm embrace. Lance didn’t resist, clinging to his father as if he were the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

“It’s okay,” Lawrence murmured, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Lance’s back. “God, Lance. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay. It would never be okay.

“I’m sorry,” Lance choked out, his voice muffled against his father’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I tried so hard to get better, I thought it was working.”

Lawrence pulled back just enough to look at him, his greying brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about? There is absolutely nothing that is wrong with you.”

Lance shook his head violently, fresh tears streaming down his face. “I miss him,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I miss him so much.”

Lawrence’s confusion deepened. “Who?”

Lance hesitated, his chest tightening as he debated whether to say it. But the guilt, the shame, the overwhelming need to unburden himself finally won out.

“Fernando,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Dad, I miss Fernando.”

For a moment, Lawrence said nothing, the weight of Lance’s confession sinking in. His face shifted from confusion to something softer, more understanding.

“Oh, Lance,” he said quietly, pulling his son back into his arms. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance repeated, his voice broken. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“You didn’t disappoint me,” Lawrence assured him, his voice steady and reassuring. “You’re my son, and I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”

Lance clung to him, his tears soaking into his father’s shirt. For the first time in weeks, he felt a flicker of relief, a tiny sliver of hope that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

Lawrence held him tighter, his mind racing as he tried to process everything.

After a long silence, Lance finally spoke, his voice shaky and raw. “I’m still in love with him.”

Lawrence froze for a moment, his breath hitching. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look Lance in the eyes. “Lance…”

“I tried, Dad,” Lance said, his voice cracking. “I’ve been going to shul every Shabbat. I pray every day. I’ve done everything the kohen told me to do. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t go away.”

Lawrence’s brows furrowed, his heart breaking at the sight of his son’s anguish. “Lance, love isn’t something you can just erase. It’s not something you can force out of yourself.”

“But it’s wrong!” Lance cried, his fists clenching in frustration. “I know it’s wrong. I know it’s against everything I’m supposed to believe, but I can’t stop feeling this way. I feel like I’m broken, like I’m tainted.”

“You’re not broken,” Lawrence said firmly, his hands gripping Lance’s shoulders. “You’re not tainted.”

Lance shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Then why does it feel like God’s given up on me? Why do I feel like I’m not good enough to be forgiven?”

“Lance…” Lawrence’s voice softened, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “God hasn’t given up on you. And you don’t need forgiveness for loving someone.” He paused, his gaze steady as he added, “I need to apologize for not realizing sooner that you really do love him.”

Lance’s breath hitched, his tears momentarily stopping as he looked up at his father in disbelief. “What?”

Lawrence sighed, cupping the back of Lance’s head in a comforting gesture. “You’ve been tearing yourself apart trying to be someone you’re not because you thought that’s what I wanted. I don’t want you to suffer, Lance. If Fernando is who makes you happy… then I’ll simply have to accept that.”

Lance’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He searched his father’s face, looking for any hint of hesitation or doubt, but found none. “You… you mean it?”

“I do,” Lawrence said firmly. “But there are conditions.”

Lance’s heart began to race. “What kind of conditions?”

“For one, no more sneaking around,” Lawrence said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “If you’re serious about this, I need you both to be honest with me. I don’t want to find out things secondhand or not at all.”

Lance nodded quickly, relief beginning to replace the dread in his chest. “Okay. We can do that.”

“Second,” Lawrence continued, “you both need to be careful and keep things appropriate. He’s older, and your relationship will face a lot of scrutiny. If you’re going to be together, you need to show the world that it’s built on respect and love, not just… passion.”

Lance’s cheeks flushed, but he nodded again. “We will. I promise.”

Lawrence sighed, pulling his son into another hug. “I’m trusting you, Lance. Both of you. Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t,” Lance said, his voice trembling with gratitude. “Thank you, Dad. Thank you for… for understanding.”

Lawrence held him tightly, his own emotions threatening to spill over. “I just want you to be happy, son. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

"Does this mean I get my phone and my car back?" Lance whispered, almost laughing at his own question.

Lawrence held him tightly, his own emotions threatening to spill over. “I just want you to be happy, son. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Does this mean I get my phone and my car back?” Lance whispered, almost laughing at his own question.

Lawrence pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “We’ll talk about it. One step at a time.”

Lance chuckled softly, the weight on his chest finally beginning to lift. He wiped his face and stood up, his mind already racing with thoughts of what to do next. “I, uh… I need to call Fernando. He deserves to know.”

Lawrence hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Go ahead. But remind him that he still needs to meet me — properly this time.”

Lance didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed his phone and retreated to his room, closing the door behind him. His hands trembled slightly as he scrolled to Fernando’s number and hit call.

The phone didn't even get the chance to ring twice before Fernando picked up. “Lance?” His voice was cautious, but there was a hint of hope in it.

“Hey, it’s me,” Lance said quickly, his voice cracking with nervous energy. “I— uhm, look, I know I seemed completely crazy earlier, but everything’s okay now. It’s all okay.”

Fernando’s breath audibly hitched. “What do you mean?”

Lance sat down on the edge of his bed, smiling despite himself. “I talked to my dad. Well, more like he found me crying in the bathroom, and we had a long talk. He knows about us, Fernando. And he’s okay with it. Now he ism He just… wants us to stop hiding and to keep things appropriate.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment before Fernando said softly, “He knows? And he’s okay with it?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, his voice light with relief. “He actually told me he just wants me to be happy. Can you believe that?”

Fernando chuckled, the sound warm and disbelieving. “I’m trying to. And you’re sure he’s not planning to come after me with a lawyer or something?”

Lance laughed. “No, no lawyers. He just said you have to meet him. Officially, I mean.”

Fernando groaned playfully. “He knows me already, Lance. We went to university together. I’m pretty sure I’ve beaten him at poker more than once.”

Lance grinned. “Yeah, he told me that too. I think he’s more curious about us as a… couple.”

Fernando was quiet for a moment before he said softly, “Lance, I’m really proud of you. For talking to him, for being honest. That couldn’t have been easy. God, you're amazing.”

“It wasn’t,” Lance admitted. “But I couldn’t keep pretending. And now… now we don’t have to hide. But all my classes are online so that's final...”

Fernando’s laugh was warm and steady. “We’ll do this right, Lance. And you'll just get your degree through Google, then.”

“Yeah, Google,” Lance echoed, a smile spreading across his face. For the first time in what felt like forever, things were finally starting to look up.

[bigheartsmallworld]

i’ve been looking for a post like this, but i can’t seem to find one..so fine i’ll just do it myself..

here’s my fav squid game men headcannons but make it freaky ☺️. also songs that make me think of them/i listened to while writing these

(Gi-hun, In-ho, Thanos and a little nam-gyu, and just a bit of the recruiter..hehe)

(Warning: includes a little cnc…not alot but still just in case! also smut..obviously?)

kinda obvious but just so you know..this post is 18+.. and very freaky

Seong Gi-hun~

Spork postition, or doggy style

shoulder holder..hell yeah

doggy- one hand on the small of your back, the other by your head

praise kink, receiving and giving

hair pulling+getting his hair pulled

6.5 inches

lowkey a whimper kinda guy..

aftercare king!!

whispering NASTY stuff in your ear

but also stuttering ^

“y-you like that? yeah?”

i said it once and i’ll say it again.. SEONG GI-HUN IS A SOFT DOM DADDY

slow and tender

laying overtop you while fingering you, eye contact entire time

Your laying on your stomach, supporting your weight on your elbows. Gi-hun, bent over you, has one hand under your chest, groping you. His other hand, stimulating your clit as he thrusts, grunting and muttering filth into your ear, as your fingers helplessly grip at the sheets beneath you.

Issues by Julia Michaels..

(his is kinda lame cause i already posted one of these that was just for him..)

~In-ho

Tabletop, shower, and missionary…yeah

Degrading

spanking

light bdsm, restraing your wrists above your head kinda guy

dacryphilliac..might be controversial..who knows

wants to make you whimper, sob, and beg

STICKY..that’s all.

let’s just say, the room is very humid with him 🥰

kinda aggressive

he would definitely put his hand over your mouth during missionary

would overstim you severely

dominant king..what about it?

7 inches

he needs you to be verbal

He loved to use your body, while you're sleeping, while you're awake, while you were calling someone, whenever he felt like it. He ESPECIALLY LOVED the last one. Whenever your phone would ring during sex he would answer it, ESPECIALLY if it was a guy... What was another guy doing calling you for anyways?! 

He would make you call out his name in your desperate and needy voice so whoever heard on the other line knew how much you liked his cock. He'd chase his own pleasure first. Then MAYBE if you were good will he get you off. 

He does in fact want to watch you go crazy, like he wants to ruin your life and be the one to put it back together

male manipulator

Karma by Chappell Roan

~Thanos

Doggy style king

also shoulder holder 😚

adventurer position, eagle, and watering can

he’s a big valedictorian position kinda guy

you might need a mop after a night with him..i’m ngl

he’s rough..

whiney boy with an attitude

the rings stay on while he fingers you no questions asked

says things like “you fucking like that?” when eating you out 🥰

2man with him and nam-gyu hehe

forces your legs open

oral king (giving but mostly receiving)

Like your gonna need to SLOB on that KNOB

fast pace, won’t slow down so don’t ask

pulls your hair, slaps you

he could go for about 3 rounds

“showering? without me?”

He don’t make love, he FUCKS

sober sex isn’t even a thing to him…sorry

6 inches

idk why but he reminds me of douche from sausage party…ifkyk i guess

^in all the ways

you’d fuck like atleast once a week

yeah he hates condoms/pulling out

sometimes he’ll bring nam-gyu along, watching as he fucks your brains out, humiliating you in front of thanos, making you feel ashamed for enjoying another man’s cock..before he eventually takes over

nam-gyu holding your arms above your head, kissing you while thanos fucks you~

Thanos chokes you. He wraps his big hand around your throat while fucking, looking you in your eyes as he grunts.

Your laying on your back, tugging on Thanos’ hair, as his face is nested deep between your legs. Your legs tense, all your strength flowing to your feet, and you writhe beneath him, his chin dripping from your previous climax . “you like that, don’t you? you like when i suck on you, over and over.” he mutters, sloppily, his breathy words bringing you closer to the edge.

Why’d you only ever call me when your high? by Arctic Monkeys

HE IS SO PTPOM 2.0

The recruiter~ (CNC WARNING)

bent over the table, no other way

grunts in your ear

Gun kink.

like..he’d hold a gun to your head while you suck it..idk

Or he’d put it in your mouth or smth

also a dacryphilliac

gets off to seeing you scared and sobbing

a hitachi wand is his best friend.

would gag you and tie you up

like he loves BDSM

don’t even ask him to stop once you’ve started, because he won’t , so there’s no point hehe

massive cnc guy..hehe

massive sadist..like even more than in-ho

he would spit in your mouth and make you swallow it

he’s a ‘nut on your face’ kinda guy

bruises you and draws blood occasionally

he’s a very loud guy..

wants to watch you touch yourself

wrestling position, counter blow, cobra ❤️

Do i wanna know by Arctic Monkeys

[synnamon-hearts]

Chris who's gf fucks him silly when shes pissy or jealous 🌝

( me ).

Yesssss ma'am! 🫡

NSFW down below!

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Listen, you love Ashley with all your heart but you see what she's doing. The way she always listens intently to what Chris has to say, batting her big asf eyes at him. Also being glued to his side every chance she gets. Ooo, it makes your blood boil.

And Chris, the sweet dumb boy, sometimes doesn't get it. He doesn't notice the clear signals she sends his way. I guess he's blind to the language of the woman unfortunately.

But this whole situation will not do. You want to claim what's yours. So the second you get Chris alone, you're tearing off his clothes before he has a second to even think! Next thing he knows he's laying on his back on any flat surface while you're crawling up his body with a dangerous glimmer in your eyes.

You grab him by the hair, forcing his blue eyes to focus on you as you sink down on his cock with no mercy behind your weight, not even caring to adjust this time ad you start bouncing up and down.

So many questions circulate around Chris' head. All he wonders is why are you acting so... Aggressive all of a sudden? But all that leaves his slightly parted lips are shaken breaths and startled moans. God, he's almost ready to burst!

"You're mine, Christopher! Mine!" You growl as you pick up your pace, chasing your own high and not giving a damn about anything else.

"O-O-OkAyYy?" Chris manages to release through his struggle, not fully understanding the situation but not complaining one bit.

This new dominant side to you is so... Different... In so many good ways. Chris can't even think anymore. The only thing on his mind is you. He's cumming just seconds after, wailing your name as it's the only thing left on his now frail mind.

Poor Chrissy. It's a shame that you are nowhere near finished with him yet. Confused whimpers of overestimation are heard from his throat when you continue to bounce on top of him with fury. He may have finished, but you won't be satisfied until you've had your fill. And you won't stop until then, even if it takes hours. Even if it takes until dawn.

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

[enchaentingly]

        he doesn���t take her to the kitchen, or set her down, or answer any of her questions that would soothe the cloudiness her mind takes on, focusing on her lost answers. instead, he finds her bedroom. he puts her down, safe and sound, and he stays far, far away at the edge, looks down at her and her mess. allie selfishly gives up on her pretty sheets and blankets, she’ll get the stains out at some point, maybe he’ll let her keep the clothes she ruined, so she could fix those, too. and so every time the man from the past looked at the sleeve of his clean, mended shirt, he would know that she’s not just a needy, rotten girl. her head pangs, there’s an echo of her mother’s voice, turning quiet pleas to sharp, shredding words. her want for being good turns obsessive, and she can feel the frantic rising of her chest. she can’t lay here and die, he’ll be upset with her. he’s been so kind, and gotten her all the way here.

        allie blinks, a sudden weight pushing down on her chest that keeps her pinned there. now, it’s words to think about. she reacts aloud, with wide eyes. “ what? why? no, i don’t understand. i want you here, and- and you- … do you want to hurt me? did i do something wrong? ”

        the fervency is what gets her moving, like, really moving. with a whimper, allie shifts to her side and then front, aided by a wiggle and arch of her back. the most of it is kind of a pathetic flop, her body feeling so unnaturally weak, but it gets her over to the other side, to a set of drawers where allie pulls out a little jar of tree root, and her purple flowers. she keeps walking up in pain, and needing something. she’ll have to bring her own, growing supply to madi’s apartment soon. 

        the sensation of chewing wakes allie back up, at the same time that it’s a nightmare. everything’s become too much much, and allie abandons the rest of the root in favor of her flower. she could feel the bloomings of magic under her skin, softening up the wound of her shoulder, the bleeding stops. but it’s not everything. she needs her flower, which she has, but the rest … he never said anything about getting up, so allie tries.

        “ i- i really … um, you can call me allie, you don’t have to call me fleur. no one’s ever really called me that. ”  she keeps her eyes shut, stuttering through her thoughts to keep herself half occupied as she tries to sit up. bowl of warm water, clean rag, bathroom.

He'd been thinking about it; the house is very much carrying memories that Reid would like to say are nostalgic. But there's little comfort in the history; Allie doesn't know what her mother left behind in his mind or what terrible things they did because a newly-made vampire had been so desperate for relief from his affliction. The monster had become prey with his neck and mind bared for a Fleur to ravage like a beast with hunger as potent as vengeance.

Whatever Allie sees in his gaze, she's misunderstanding in her haze. Blood loss is a dangerous battle and Reid considers calling medics and hoping they find her in her bed. With him long gone.

It's better if he says nothing, here. He doesn't know what she's apologising for and he doesn't need to know. He needs the witch to stop bleeding all over him and making him wish he'd done something less chivalrous.

She's on one of the beds, and he's standing to the side of it, assessing her. He isn't sure he'd know what to find if he went looking for the root in the kitchen. He's not sure he wants to. When she's laying down, he can see the distinct wound on her neck in all its clarity; under the lights of the house; the vicious bite that mirrors one he could leave. He won't. He can't. He remembers her being a child, she's just a child. She's not frozen in place, like he is.

She keeps asking his name and he's forgotten he's avoided telling her, he'd almost thought he had told her in amongst her delirium. He's feeling a little out of sorts himself, with witch blood staining the air and the tinge of magic burrowed deep into the wood of the house.

"You've lost a lot of blood, Fleur. You need to heal and then rest. That's it." A soldier, telling a civilian to stay out of the battles; the war isn't hers. Nerves play little part in the way of things. Reid doesn't even know if there's any lucidity there whilst he's looking for something in the room that may help heal her. "I'm not what you think I am. When I leave, you need to revoke my invitation inside. You understand?"