#and then that had me singing ‘electric love’ in my head too much for me to not doodle that little line of lightning in a bottle

[wigglebox]

Suptober - Day 6 | Electric

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔

summary: your boyfriend undoubtedly loves you very much but some positions just get him going unlike any other

pairings: bachira :: nagi :: chigiri :: kaiser :: sae :: rin :: reo x fem! reader (all characters are aged up!!)

warnings: nsfw/ minors dni, i’ll put individual warnings on each part to not flood this intro but i’d say there’s a tendency for dom! character (overall pretty tame though), pet names, cursing

this is a repost because i'm moving my nsfw works onto this blog!!

blue lock masterlist

♛ 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

tw: creampies, slight hair pulling (f! receiving), manhandling, implied multiple rounds

Bachira is insatiable, to say the least. Chances are his stamina outlasts yours by a longshot. And he’s so absolutely enamoured with you, his favourite position is whichever one he currently has you in. Although there are some you find yourself in more often than others: namely riding him, which almost always turns into him lifting you up by the hips and slamming you back down on him; being nearly folded in half as his hands grab at the flesh of your thighs and Bachira presses you into the mattress with his weight alone; and burying your face into the pillow as he holds you up by the hips, one hand tangling in your hair. Absolutely has bent you over every piece of furniture in your home before, he’s a monster in his own right…

Fingers were dancing up your spine and pressing you down further into the cushions, accompanied by playful laughter that absolutely didn’t match Bachira’s ruthless thrusts which had you gripping onto the armrest of the couch harder. How did you get here again? Your boyfriend came home from practice… and next thing you knew he was rearranging your guts.

“Ah, Meguru… ‘s too deep, I can’t–” you panted, breathless from the effort of trying to keep up with the man behind you. Seriously, shouldn't he be tired after running around all day? Where did he take all that energy from?

“What was that? Sorry, baby, I can’t hear you over the sounds of your wet pussy.” You could practically see his smirk without even having to crane your head around. The hand on your back tangled into your hair, your body bowing as he slightly raised your head, creating a new angle for him to drive his cock into you, his balls smacking against your sensitive folds. “You want me to go deeper, ‘s that it?”

You loved this, you loved this a little too much perhaps. Whenever Bachira bent your body to his liking, almost using you however he pleased, it always left you with your thighs shaking and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. If you ever had to admit it, you might die of shame but with your walls clamping down on his cock and Bachira’s snigger ringing through the room, you had the hunch he already knew.

With his fingers leaving your hair, you fell forwards again but only momentarily before being pulled up entirely by his hand resting on your collarbones to meet his bare chest. You could feel the muscles of his abdomen against your sweat-slicked back, the way they contracted with every thrust upwards. Everytime he pulled you back down to meet him, a firm smack echoed around the room as his strong thighs collided with yours. 

“Talk to me, baby, you know I like hearing your pretty voice,” Bachira said, giving a particularly nasty snap and forcing a sharp gasp of his name from you, “especially when you sing my name like that~”

“I’m almost there, Meguru, just hngh–” 

“Me too… You can make both of us cum, right? Bet you’d like it if I did this,” your boyfriend huffed, finally showing at least a little bit of strain as he neared his release. The hand on your hip wandered to your core, his index finger pulling up the hood of your clit. When his middle finger put pressure onto the bare tip of the nub, it sent a bolt of electricity racing up your spine, making you straighten in the striker’s hold. Throwing your head back onto his shoulder you let your moans spill freely while digging your fingers into the flesh of his thigh, the other coming to rest over his on your chest. You felt the needy twitch of his cock inside of you as he groaned curses into the skin of your neck. “Shit, you’re making it pretty fucking hard to move when you clench down on me like that.”

Bachira gave a few thrusts before his hips stuttered and he pressed as far into you as he could go as warmth started to flood you and fill you up. The combination of him stuffing you full, his low moans and the practised flicks on your clit sent you straight into your high as well, cunt creaming around him as Bachira moved both hands down to your waist to stop you from trying to run from the overwhelming pleasure. 

For a few minutes, your shared panting was all that could be heard as Bachira lazily moved you up and down to ride out both your highs. You were absolutely putty in his arms, more so than before, as he carefully guided your chest to meet the couch again, all the while staying glued to your body. With his weight on top of you and his cum leaking out of you, that was when you realised: he was still hard.

“You always feel so good when you make a mess all over me.” Bachira gently uncurled his and your arms from your tangled bodies, bringing them down on the cushions so he could lay his hands on top of yours and intertwine your fingers. 

“Let me give you another one, yeah?~”

♛ 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎

tw: cockwarming, creampies, implied exibihitionism/ voyeurism (kinda?), mentions of face-sitting, size kink /difference if you squint hard enough

Nagi is a fan of all things low-effort, not exerting himself when he sees no reason to. So why bother exhausting himself when he’s perfectly capable of making you a mess on top of him? Whether that means having you sit on his face as he eats you out ‘til your thighs are shaking on either side of his head and your hand losing its grip on the headboard or letting you ride him ‘til your legs give out and you breathlessly beg him to take over. That isn’t to say he doesn’t ever take the initiative; you can kiss your ability to walk goodbye whenever that happens though…

You loved watching your boyfriend play games. Not necessarily because of what was happening on the screen but much rather because more often than not you got to sit there for hours on end with Nagi’s thick cock nestled snugly inside of you, clad in nothing but one of his oversized shirts.

Sure, having to hold still when he was rubbing against all your weakest spots so deliciously could be considered a form of torture specifically designed for you but at the same time you felt too full to complain. Instead you merely rolled your head back onto his shoulder, bleary eyes blinking open every now and then when the mindless noises from the game sounded somewhat interesting.

Whatever he was playing didn’t seem to cooperate with him though, curses pushed through gritted teeth giving away to his frustrations. Hearing his deep groan upon having to restart the level again set off a chain event as your walls fluttered around him and you ground yourself down harder in desperate search for some friction. In return, Nagi’s hips thrust up instinctively before tightly clutching your hips to halt your movements. “Not yet, angel. Still need to beat this stupid boss…”

“Sei…” Reaching back to wind your hand into his snowy strands, you lightly raked your fingernails over his scalp and tugged his roots, which earned you a heavenly moan from your boyfriend. “Why don’t you take a break? Maybe you can focus on it better afterwards.”

“Yeah, you gonna help me relax, pretty thing?” Nagi was nosing down the back of your neck, placing open mouthed kisses to your nape as his large palms wandered under your shirt, cupping your boobs and kneading them between his fingers. You merely responded by arching into his touch and rolling your hips down on him again, accompanied by a quiet whine for him to do something, anything. “Fuck, you’re so good to me.”

Guiding your legs to rest over the armrests of his gaming chair, Nagi ran an experimental hand down to your folds, swiping through your arousal and giving your clit a quick swipe of his thumb. The short contact was enough to have you buck into his touch, a whine for more escaping your throat as you shuddered in your boyfriend’s embrace.

“Sei… Please fuck me, I need you so bad, please.”

“Eh, I guess it’s only fair. Been so patient with me, hm?” His big hands were lifting you up by the hips, pulling you off of him almost entirely before sinking you back down, slowly building  a steady pace that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head with how deep he was hitting. Nagi brought you to the peak of pleasure so quickly, you weren’t even embarrassed anymore at how eagerly you were clamping down on him.

“Shit, I’m so close, baby, don’t stop,” you panted, breath hot against the side of his neck. One of his hands left your hip only to reappear on your clit, deft fingers drawing firm circles on the little bud, boneless in his grip as he kept bouncing you on his cock. The lewd squelching of your pussy combined with Nagi’s grunts and the slapping of skin against skin had you hurtling toward your high at a dizzying speed. “��S too much, I can’t–”

“You can and you will, pretty thing,” he huffed as your nails dug into the skin of his wrists. “Almost there, too… Let’s cum together, yeah? Gonna let me fill you up?”

Apparently that was all it took for you to come undone, your walls milking him for all he was worth as he held you tightly against himself as you tried to wind out of his arms. Tilting your head up, Nagi connected your lips in a messy kiss, one you tried your best to reciprocate, swallowing down all the moans bleeding out of you. With a few shallow thrusts upwards, his hips stuttered as his balls clenched and warmth flooded you. 

For the next couple of minutes, you both just sat there, trying to catch your breath as his cum leaked from your hole despite his cock still stuffing you. Gently massaging your sore spots, Nagi peppered light kisses all over your temple and cheeks as you simply gazed at him in bliss.

The peaceful atmosphere was broken however when the sound of an incoming discord call rang through the room. Looking at the screen you could vaguely make out Reo’s name before the cursor hovered over the ‘accept’ button, Nagi’s dick twitching back to life.

“Wanna play a game, angel?”

♛ 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐈 𝐇𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐀

tw: oral (f! receiving), hair pulling (m!receiving), oral (m! receiving) implied

Any position in which you can pull on Chigiri’s cherry red locks is a good position in his eyes. Be that tangling your fingers in the strands at his nape while he gazes down on you oh so sweetly in missionary or reaching your hand back to find something to hold on to and ground yourself as he angles his hips deeper into you with your back pressed to his chest. If he had to pick a favourite, however, it would be how you grasp desperately at his hair to pull him where you need him most when he goes down on you…

His shoulders nudged your legs apart further as Chigiri settled between them, at the same time smoothing his hands up the back of your legs to push them up with him. You could feel the adrenaline pulsing through you, shifting along the mattress as his bright eyes drank in the sight in front of him. He watched intensely as your glistening pussy clenched around nothing in anticipation, slick leaking from your slit.

“Don’t you look delicious, sweetheart?” His soft voice drifted to your ears as the pad of his fingers gathered your arousal. Holding them up for you to see, the webbing between the digits was clearly visible in the dim light as he spread them. “All for me, hmm? Are you this wet just because of me?”

“Yeah, of course,” you smiled, one hand cupping his cheek as Chigiri propped himself up. “It’s only ever because of you.”

His pillowy lips broke into a grin as he feathered kisses from your knee up your inner thigh, guiding your legs to rest over his shoulders and frame his beautiful face in the same motion. “You really do know what a man likes to hear.”

“It’s the truth though, nobody’s ever made me feel this way before. In any aspect of life,” you whispered, searching for his hand on the mattress to intertwine yours with it.

You gladly pushed your torso forward to meet your boyfriend halfway as he pressed his lips to yours. Carding your fingers through the strands behind his ear, you scraped your nails across his scalp, making him moan into your mouth as he deepened the kiss. Tongues tangling together and spit dribbling down your chin, you had to break the contact to catch your breaths, Chigiri’s panting heating up the crook of your neck.

Hungry red eyes bored into yours as he swiped some of your mixed saliva from the corner of your lips. “Please let me show you how much hearing that means to me. You’ll let me make you feel good, right angel?” 

Chigiri could feel the vibrations of your hum against his lips as he slowly kissed his way back down your body. His free hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you close to him as he took his previous spot between your legs, breath fanning your sensitive folds.

You gripped his hand harder as he gave the first experimental lick up the length of your pussy, thoroughly riled up from his treatment beforehand. Groaning as you slick coated his flattened tongue, your boyfriend pressed his hips into the mattress, searching for friction to relieve the bulge straining against his sweats. 

“Ah shit, you taste so sweet, how’s it always so good?” Chigiri said, voice muffled by your core and sending sparks straight through you. He watched with rapt attention as your back bowed off the bed when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked firmly.

More slick poured from you and coated the lower half of his face as he pried your folds apart with his wet muscle just to hear your beautiful whimpers, which doubled in volume as he sunk his tongue into you. There was no denying how much you desired this, desired him, as you immediately clenched around the intrusion. 

But you wanted -needed- more of him. With a dazed sigh of his name, your fingers tangled in his fiery strands and tugged him further into your heat. Mindlessly rutting against the bed at the sting on his scalp, more angelic groans spilled directly into you as Chigiri’s long lashes fluttered shut. The position he currently had you in, allowed his nose to rub against your bundle of nerves with every movement and it had your thighs clasping around the sides of his face, threatening to suffocate him.

The striker didn’t even seem fazed by it, in fact, his actions became more enthusiastic, driven by the goal to bring you to the peak of pleasure. And he knew you were almost there as your hips bucked upwards, trying to grind against him with his hair still secure in your fist. 

By the time the coil in your stomach unravelled, there was no way the two of you could physically be any closer, even though you tried your hardest as you pressed your heels into his shoulder blades and curled your toes. Spurred on by the high-pitched whines and whimpers escaping you as your movements stuttered, Chigiri lapped up every single drop of cum you offered, completely drunk on your taste.

Swallowing heavily as your boyfriend gently set your legs down on the mattress again, massaging your calves as he did, you gave him a breathless smile. Sitting on his knees, he cast one last glance at your glossy pussy, glistening with a mixture of your release and his spit. The sight made his dick twitch with need as he licked his lips, which were stained with you.

Crawling back up your body, Chigiri carefully sunk down in order not to crush you under his weight as you wrapped one arm around his neck while the other travelled down the planes of his back.

“Did that feel good?” he asked, cherry eyes searching your own for any sort of discomfort as he trailed his palm up and down your side without any sort of direction. “Could I deliver my message well?”

“You did amazing as always, Hyoma,” you grinned, watching as his eyes widened and his hips jerked forward when your fingers dipped into his sweats and cupped his bulge through his boxers. “You’ll allow me to return the favour, won’t you pretty boy?”

♛ 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋

tw: oral (m! receiving), deep throating, kaiser is a little mean, slight dacryphilia, sir kink (once) 

Kaiser is a sadist and frankly… a bit of an asshole. He’ll coo at you when heat spreads through you out of embarrassment and gets off on seeing tears of pleasure, overstimulation or frustration stain your face. Having you completely spread in front of a mirror as he toys with you really gets him going. Not only does he get to see all of you, no, he can also make you watch yourself unravel for him and only him. It’s a sight that can only be matched by you on your knees between his legs, worshipping him like a king… 

“You like this, don’t you?” Kaiser was smirking down at you, his tone mocking but he was right. You hated how his taunts made your stomach churn with want and your panties soak with your own arousal. “Oh, forgot you can’t talk with my dick down your throat. Apologies, princess.”

A whimper escaped you as he pulled you off of him, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his glossy tip. Mascara was running down your cheeks and your lipstick was smeared across your lips, stains of the same shade wrapping around his cock, all the way down to the base; you looked so fucked out already and Kaiser was living for it. “Go on now, tell me how much you like this.”

“Yes, Mi-“ a tug at your hair cut you off. When you looked up to meet his eyes, you shivered at the chilly raise of his brow. “Y-Yes Sir, love it. Love it so much.”

“That’s a good girl. Now put your money where your mouth is.” Sliding his hand down to hold your chin between his fingers, he tapped his cock head against your lips, the salty taste of his precum hitting your taste buds. “Come on, open up for me, princess.”

You flicked your eyes from his dick back up to his as you opened your mouth again, tongue lolling out as you took in his form looming over you. His lips curled up at the corners to see you so obedient for him. Sinking into your warmth again, Kaiser huffed out a groan as he held you still, going slow until your lips stretched around the base of his cock. With your nose pressing against his trimmed pubes, tears welling in your eyes as the breaths from your nose fanned against his skin, he held you there for a little, indulging in the clenching of your tight throat around his tip as you tried not to gag.

But that was as far as your boyfriend was willing to test his patience that day. The way your tongue ran against the sensitive vein on the underside of his heavy shaft had his balls tightening as he tried to starve off his release as long as possible. As his hips jerked forward the first time on their own, he took it as his cue to start thrusting.

Your eyes screwed shut and you had to dig your nails into the muscles of his thighs, not caring at all whether his shorts would cover the marks the next day, as his tip hit the back of your throat over and over. Saliva pooled on your tongue, spilled over your lips, dribbled down your chin and onto your chest. The lewd sight had his abs contracting as his cock twitched against your pink muscle.

Pushing his bangs out of his face before bringing his palm from your chin to the back of your head as he leaned back on the hand propping him up on the bed, Kaiser pushed you down on him completely once again as his musky scent invaded your senses. You rubbed your thighs together to relieve some of the tension as you took in the light shining onto the slight sheen of sweat coating his skin, his hair messed up from running his fingers through it, looking downright ethereal.

“Look at me while you swallow everything I give you, princess,” he gritted out as he shallowly ground his pelvis into you until his hips stuttered. With your teary eyes fixed on his again, he let a guttural groan slip from his lips as he tipped his head back and ropes of hot cum shot down your throat. “Don’t waste a single drop, got it?”

Letting you pull off his dick, he closely watched the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed. He scooped up a drop that escaped the corner of your lips with his thumb and pushed it back into your mouth, smirking as you diligently sucked the digit clean.

“As much as I love seeing you on your knees, I think you earned yourself a reward. Come here, pretty,” he said, holding out his hand for you and pulling you up to stand between his legs, sniggering when you lightly stumbled as you stretched your legs again. Pushing your hair out of your face he gave you a sweet peck before turning you around and guiding you down until you sat between his spread thighs with your back to his chest. 

As he trailed kisses from the back of your hand all the way to your shoulder blade and hooked your knees over his muscles, you finally understood what Kaiser was playing at when you raised your head and met his half-lidded gaze in the floor-length mirror across from you.

Your cheeks flared with heat as your eyes flitted across your exposed form, the wet spot on your underwear clearly visible to the both of you, as you tried to close your legs in shame only to be stopped by a large palm.

“Why so shy all of a sudden? I just want you to see how gorgeous you look when I make you cum, so keep your pretty eyes on that mirror,” he whispered against the shell of your ear, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties. “After all, a princess is meant to be shown off, wouldn’t you agree?”

♛ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

tw: mean dom! sae, blindfolds, edging, implied overstimulation, fingering (f! receiving), name calling (slut), slight degradation, mentions of dacryphilia

Sae loves reducing you to a whimpering mess before he even thinks about fucking you deep into the mattress, his cerulean gaze sharp and almost painfully neutral. His favourite way of achieving just that has to be fingering you for what feels like hours. Not only is he stretching you nicely to take all he gives you later on, it also allows him to run that mean mouth of his. Whether he’s edging you mercilessly or making you cum so often you barely remember your own name is a gamble though…

The room was positively spinning, you felt like falling despite being propped up against the pillows on your bed. Sweat slicked up your skin as you dug your fingernails into your palms, certain that half-moons would be visible even the next day.

“Sae, no more, please. I’m sorry,” you sobbed, voice hoarse from pleading with your boyfriend for what felt like hours. With the blindfold covering your eyes you couldn’t see the way Sae’s lips tugged up at the corners as he took in your messy hair and the tear tracks visible even with the black fabric wrapped around your head. Your thighs were coated with your own slick as Sae had brought you to the brink of an orgasm more times than you wanted to count before cruelly ripping it away from you again.

“Are you? I’m not so sure,” his voice was painfully neutral as he circled your puffy folds again, lazily running his fingers over your slit but not with enough pressure to actually satisfy you. Against your better judgement, your hips twitched up to chase his touch which only made him pull away entirely with a tut. “After all, I made it pretty clear you shouldn’t touch yourself while I was still at work and yet, what do I find when I come home? My pretty little girlfriend with her fingers stuffed in her messy cunt.”

The harsh tug at your nipple ripped a groan from you. You felt his hand trace down from the valley between your breasts, over your stomach leaving a featherlight trail of goosebumps in its wake, Sae softly humming as you shuddered. His other hand smoothed up your thigh, the simple action alone tightening the coil in your stomach again, too sensitive from your ruined orgasms. It settled at your hips, rubbing small circles into the bone, an unspoken apology for what was about to happen next.

You threw your head back into the pillows with a strangled moan as he pressed two fingers onto your throbbing clit, hurtling you down the path to another high he’d possibly take away from you again. Your babbling from before started once more, begging him to finally let you cum.

“Aren’t you enjoying your punishment a little too much, you little slut? I mean, look at you,” he chided. With his thumb continuing to press down on your twitching nub, his middle and ring finger met no resistance as he thrust them into your drenched cunt. Sae knew your body like the back of his hand, so he had absolutely no trouble finding the spot that made your knees jerk up against your will. “You want to cum, is that it? Do you think you deserve it?”

“Yes Sae, please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry… Please I won’t do it again, please.” If you could hear anything over the blood rushing through your ears, your whimpers would seem pathetic even to you. But right now, the only thing on your mind was your boyfriend’s fingers rhythmically pushing in and out of your pussy with a wet squelch as you gripped the sheets as if your life depended on it.

“Hmm, I guess you’ve behaved well enough, even kept your hands to yourself,” he mused, his tone still cool but his movements didn’t stop. “Go on and make a mess then before I rethink my decision again.”

A constant string of ‘thank you’s tumbled from your lips as you finally fell over the edge of pleasure, Sae keeping his thrusts steady even as your walls clamped down on him furiously and white hot fire set your whole body ablaze.

As you gradually came down from your high, panting to fill your lungs with much needed air, two fingers slipped under the material covering your eyes and gently pulled it off of you. You blinked your bleary eyes open at the sensation of soft lips pressing against your temple. But your attention was soon drawn to the light tap of his cock head against your clit which had you whimpering, no idea when Sae had undressed.

“What’s wrong? You said you wanted to cum right? I’m just giving my slut what she wants.”

♛ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

tw: size kink, implied multiple rounds, light marking

It has become somewhat of a routine for the two of you to shower together. While it doesn’t always end up in shower sex, Rin comes home pent-up from practice often enough and who are you to deny him (and yourself) the pleasure of sudsy hands roaming your body, feeling you up and kneading at your soft curves before he inevitably presses you into the cool shower tiles? Although, some nights, you find yourself in the shower again only a few hours later to wash away the remnants of the following round(s)...

Steam curled around your body, rising from your skin and fogging the bathroom mirror. But the water was nothing against the heat pooling in your stomach, your soft moans drowned out by the splashing of the drops. To the man behind you, they were still clearly audible though, his chest pressed firmly against your back as his hands roamed every inch of your skin. 

Rin held you up with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist as he ground his hard cock between your ass cheeks with a low grunt. “I missed you today. So much.”

“I missed you too, baby,” you crooned, leaning your full weight into him. The wandering of his hands came to a halt, fingers running over your slit.  “Fuck, Rin, I need you, please fill me up.”

“Are you sure, love? Let me prep you at least a little–”

“I can take it,” you cut him off, grinding back against him. “Just– Just go slow.”

“If that’s what you want. Tell me if it hurts, yeah?” Trapping one of your hands against the shower wall, he intertwined his long fingers with yours as well as he could. The arm that previously held you steady now grabbed onto your hips, pulling them back to slightly bend you over. Stuffing his cock between your legs to coat himself in your arousal, his light thrusts through your folds had his cockhead catch your clit with every movement. “Ready?”

You barely managed to squeak out the words before you already felt him prod at your core. Even just the mushroom-headed tip stretched you so well, you parted your lips in a silent scream, head hanging low as you focused on standing upright. Inch by inch, Rin continued to sink into you and you could feel every vein drag against your walls agonisingly slow. When he grazed past your sweet spot, you offered a small sob as you clenched down on him.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re doing so well,” he whispered against your shoulder, peppering conciliatory kisses along your skin, sucking a bruise into the juncture of your neck before moving up towards your jaw. “You’re always so good to me, aren’t you?”

By the time his hips were finally snug against your ass, you swore you could feel him in your lungs. Letting go of your hips, his hand came around to press down on the bulge in your stomach, feeling himself nestled inside of you so deeply. Then, he dipped your head back to connect your lips, the initially sweet kiss growing messier until you started whining into his mouth to finally move.

Rin wasted no time giving you what you wanted, revelling in the way you arched back into him as he slowly dragged out of you, groaning as your pussy didn’t want to let go of him. Building up to a steady pace, it didn’t take long for your legs to wobble slightly. He pulled you tightly against him, using his palm against your boob as leverage for his thrusts. 

“Ah~ Rin, ‘s too much, you’re too big.” Your moans bounced off the walls, breathless as you clung to his arm. “Keep going, don’t stop!”

“Saying it’s too much and then whining for more? Can’t make up your mind, huh? Let me decide for you, then,” your boyfriend grunted. Gripping the back of your knee, he folded it up to your chest, spreading you open wide to angle his hips better, deeper, into your cunt. Pinching your nipple between his fingers as he reached around you to play with your clit. “At least your cunt knows what she wants, clamping down on me so damn tightly… you’re close aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, god Rin, yes. Please make me cum!” you nearly yelled. “Only you– Fuck, only you can make me feel this good.”

“That’s right, now show me how good you look cumming on my cock.” His words were searing against your neck as you crumbled underneath him. You quivered in his arms as he shushed you, gently setting your knee back down and running the flat of palms down your sides. When you had stopped grinding back into him in a post-orgasmic haze, Rin pulled out and spun you around.

Hoisting you up with his hands grabbing at the fat of your ass, the striker caged you against the wall as you wrapped your legs around his hips. Cradling the back of your head in his large palm, he took in your fucked out expression with half-lidded eyes before stealing all air from your lungs again in a hungry kiss. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entry which you gladly granted. Tangling your tongues together, it still wasn’t enough to distract you from the way he lined himself up with your cunt again.

“Gorgeous as always,” he mumbled against your lips, cerulean eyes focused solely on you. “You can do that again for me, right? Want you to cum with me this time.”

♛ 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎

tw: switch! reo, soft dom! reo, lingerie, bondage, face-sitting, fingering (f! receiving), oral (f!receiving), light marking, praise, pet names, mentions of exhibitionism

Reo and you are on equal playing grounds both in and outside the bedroom. Taking turns teasing each other, riling the other up until they can’t take it anymore, that’s what makes being with Reo fun. You never know what to expect when you get intimate with him; will you watch as you order him to get himself off before you even think about touching him or will Reo have your nude form pressed against the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse? Perhaps neither of you will take control as you exchange slow caresses, drunk on the taste of each other? As always, Reo does it all and he does it so perfectly… 

“Don’t you look gorgeous, baby?” Lithe fingers danced across the red silk binding your thighs together, experimentally hooking his index and middle finger under the material, effectively pulling your exposed core closer to his face.

The plan for this night had been to tease him, the pretty lingerie you had put on especially for that sake lying discarded somewhere between the door and bed. Reo had apparently had a similar incentive this time around, not willing to hand over the reins so readily and the flimsy material you wore only spurred him on as he produced the red bindings from behind his back.

In his defence, you didn’t put up much of a fight as he crowded you against the bed, his large hands running up your spine to unclasp the lacey bra. As he slid the straps off your shoulders, his mouth busied itself by sucking blooming purple marks against your skin while you felt up the muscles underneath his shirt. The second his hands were free, one of them clasped both your wrists behind your back before loosely wrapping the silk around them.

“This okay, bunny?” he whispered against the shell of your ear and, frankly, the speed at which you nodded should have been embarrassing but you were way too curious to find out where this was going. The striker chuckled at your eager response, fastening the glossy red against your skin. “Aren’t you just the cutest? Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth your while.”

That was how you found yourself with your knees on either side of Reo’s head, quivering from both the effort to keep yourself upright and his tongue flicking continuously against your clit. You could feel the slick leaking out of you, pooling on the lower half of your boyfriend’s face as his fingers diligently worked you up to your orgasm. Curling his digits into you, he was searching for that one spot that always had you seeing stars and when he found it, you rocked your hips forward with a needy whine, trying to grind down on him to the best of your abilities.

With glossy eyes, you watched as Reo’s crinkled in amusement at your desperation, deliberately pressing into your sweet spot over and over to see you fall apart for him. Fire was licking up your spine as you wriggled in his grasp, the hand on your back immediately holding onto your bound wrists when he noticed you were about to topple over. Pulling your arms down, he arched your back to only press you further into him.

He shushed your cries of his name gently, the vibrations of his voice sending sparks directly into your bundle of nerves. “You’re doing so well for me. Now show me how good I make you feel when you cum all over my fingers and tongue, yeah?”

By now, you were reliant on the way he held you up, your own bones seemingly turned to jelly as his mouth wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it and giving the faintest graze of his teeth against it. The effect was instantaneous as you hiccuped his name, the tight knot in your stomach snapping as you released all over him.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” letting you ride out your orgasm before slowly pulling his fingers from your pussy and licking them clean, his grin was finally visible to you. Smoothing his hands up your trembling thighs, he squished the flesh around the silk, a mischievous glint in his violet eyes.

“Let’s see what else we can use this for, now that I already have you like this.”

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[vinnyvamppp]

Hey love you are a great writer so much so i had to request you to write a fic This story idea is super toxic This would never be a real scenario But I'm twisted so here's how it goes sinister mark or whom ever you choose is trying to study and girlfriend is just trying to get his attention kissing him, loving on him taking pictures with him and his snaps and accidentally hit her. He doesn't think that she will fight back though turning into this toxic love hate f$ck

You would be doing a great service (to me mostly😩)

Attention Hungry

NOTE: The person requested and the people have agreed! Typing this on my phone in staples while they fix my computer made me lose brain cells. Sorry in advance! Didn’t stray too far from the request. @nefertiti2003

Warnings: Rough Sex, Accidental Assault, Mild Choking, Mutual Orgasm, Hate Fucking, Power Imbalance, Pussy Eating, Dom!Invincible Variant, Power Bottom!Reader, Biting, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Love/Hate Relationship, Porn w a Plot, etc.

Sinister!Mark x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,072

Mark is at his desk, the glow of his tablet screen reflecting against the sharp angles of his face. His brows are furrowed in concentration, scanning lines of text faster than any normal person could. The lamp above casts long shadows, stretching across his strong frame, making him look even more unapproachable than usual. You should know better than to bother him when he’s like this, when he’s focused and distant.

But you never listen.

You step behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pressing your chest against his back. His body is warm—too warm almost, like a furnace barely contained beneath his skin. A normal person would melt under the heat of him. You just take it as an invitation. “Mark,” you murmur against his ear, letting your lips brush against the skin just below it. He doesn’t react. Not at first.

You tighten your arms, fingers splaying over the solid muscle of his chest. “You’ve been sitting here forever.” Your tone sing-songy. Nothing.

You try again, trailing your fingers up his neck, into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. His jaw tenses, slight progress, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re really gonna ignore me?” STILL nothing.

Alright then.

You grab his phone from the desk and spin away before he can snatch it back. “Smile,” you tease, pointing the camera at him. He doesn’t even glance up, still reading, as if you’re nothing but background noise. So you step closer, angling yourself into the shot, pressing against his arm. Click. The flash goes off, illuminating his sharp features, and his unreadable eyes. Blinding you in the process. That gets his attention.

It happens fast, too fast to catch.

A blur of movement, his hand shoots out. A hard impact wallops across your face, your head jerks to the side. The sharp sting spreads across your cheek before you even register what happened. For a second, everything stops. Your breath catches and your heart slams against your ribs. Mark’s hand hovers in the air where your face used to be, fingers still curled slightly from the slap.

You gasp. He blinks.

Then he exhales sharply through his nose, something unreadable flashing behind those crimson-tinted eyes. A mistake? No, he doesn’t make those. His mouth parts like he’s about to say something, but you don’t give him the chance.

Your hand flies before you even think about it, striking him across the face just as fast. The crack of skin-on-skin reverberates through the room. His head barely moves. Your palm burns from the impact. It didn’t hurt, but he felt it. He shouldn’t have felt it, that means he was getting weak, it meant he had to show who was stronger, better in every way. And he would.

Slowly—and I mean eerily slow—Mark turns his head back toward you. His tongue swipes over his lip, testing for blood before grinning. “Really?” His voice is low and amused, almost unfamiliar. Your heart pounds, but you don’t step back, you can’t. The air between you is electric, suffocating, and dangerous. His fingers flex, then relax. His eyes roam over you, slow and deliberate. He shifts in his chair, the movement lazy—like a predator just now deciding whether the thing in front of him is prey or something worth playing with first.

With one hand, he grabs your wrist, yanking you down onto his lap. "Now you have my attention."

He seemed amused, if anything.

With a short huff, your wrist curled against his firm grip, yanking with all your might. Nothing. His fingers barely budged, the strength in his hold effortless, as if he wasn’t even trying to restrain you, just reminding you that he could. Your jaw clenched, brows furrowed as you gritted. “Let go.” Mark tilted his head, eyes glinting under the dim light. “Why?”

Your skin burned where he touched you. Not from pain but from frustration, from the way he always did this. Letting you squirm, watching you fight, like you were nothing but a passing entertainment. Like you didn’t even matter. “You don’t even care,” you snapped, struggling again. “I don’t know why I—” He cut you off with a low chuckle. “Why you what?” His grip loosened, but only enough for his fingers to slide down your forearm, keeping you anchored in place. “Keep coming back? Keep trying to get my attention?”

Your breath hitched, but you covered it up with a scowl. “You never bother with me, Mark.” Something flickered in his expression, brief, perhaps sympathetic, but it was gone. “You’re always off somewhere else,” you continued, voice sharper now. “Thinking, planning, doing whatever the hell you do. You don’t talk to me, you don’t look at me, unless I force you to. Like I’m a distraction.”

Mark sighed, as if this entire conversation was beneath him. “You are a distraction.” The words stung more than you wanted to admit. Your nails dug into his wrist. “Then why the hell are you still holding onto me?” His fingers flexed around your arm. A quiet, drawn-out moment passed before he leaned in, just slightly, breath warm against your skin. “Because,” he murmured, “you’re not boring.”

Your stomach twisted. You hated the way your body reacted to him—to this. With a sharp inhale, you pushed against his chest. “I should leave.” Mark didn’t stop you nor did he tighten his grip. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, arms dropping to his sides, leaving you free, daring you. His eyes met yours, calm and all knowing. God, you hated that look. “Then do it.” The room felt smaller, like the walls were closing in. Your muscles tensed under his gaze as he watched and waited.

Seconds passed, your heart still pounding. You should leave. You should turn around, walk out the door, and never look back. But you didn’t move. Mark smirked. “That’s what I thought.” Your fingers curled into fists. “I hate you.”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head, dragging his gaze over you, less restrained this time, more sensual. “Funny. I hate you too.” Your chest rose and fell, breath shaky with something you refused to name. “Then let me go.” He exhaled through his nose, almost like a laugh, before reaching out. His fingers traced your jaw gently before gripping your chin, the sudden tightening causing you to go taut, forcing you to look at him. “I don’t think you want that,” he said, voice dropping an octave. “And I know I don’t.”

And just like that, you were pulled right back into his orbit.

You moved first, tilting your chin up, daring him, challenging him. His lips met yours in an instant, not gentle, not sweet but hungry. It was all heat and dominance, a battle for control that neither of you wanted to lose. His hand slid lower, fingers pressing into your skin, grounding you against him. Every touch, every movement was controlled, always meant to remind you exactly who he was—who you were dealing with.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, "Still think you hate me?" You exhaled shakily. "More than ever." Mark’s grin was sharp, almost cocky. "Good."

He stood up abruptly, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. With a firm grip on your hips, he lifted you effortlessly, tossing you over his shoulder like a ragdoll. You yelped in surprise, the breath momentarily knocked out of you. You managed to gasp out as he carried you across the room, his footsteps echoing off the walls. He ignored your weak protested mumbles, his hand resting heavily on your ass as if to remind you of his dominance.

The bedsprings creaked as he threw you down onto the mattress, your body bouncing from the impact. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before he was on top of you, his weight pinning you down. Your hands scrabbled at his chest, but he easily overpowered you, gripping your wrists and shoving them above your head.

His other hand found your throat, fingers curling around your slender neck. He applied just enough pressure to make you gasp, to remind you who was in control. His red eyes bore into yours, gleaming with a dark, feral hunger.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Fuck, yes. Now give it to me." He released your wrists, only to grab the collar of your shirt. With a sharp tug, he tore the fabric open, sending buttons flying across the room. Your breasts bounced free, the cool air pebbling your nipples.

He wasted no time, ducking his head to inhale your sweet scent as his tongue teased your collarbones. He sucked hard, his teeth scraping against the sensitive flesh, sending jolts of pain and pleasure straight to your core. His hand roughly traced the curves of your figure, squeezing what he could. You arched into him, a moan escaping your lips. But he was already moving, trailing kisses down your stomach, pausing to flick his tongue against your navel. Lower and lower he went until his face was nestled between your thighs.

He breathed hotly against your core, the damp fabric of your panties the only barrier between you. With a low growl, he tugged them aside, exposing you to his hungry gaze. Without warning, he licked a long stripe up your slit, from entrance to clit, the wet heat of his tongue making you shudder. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pushing him closer, silently begging for more. He obliged, sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard. At the same time, he slid two fingers into your dripping cunt, pumping them in and out, giving you little time to adjust.

Your hips bucked against his face, fucking yourself on his tongue and fingers. But he didn't let up, his grip on your thighs holding you in place as he feasted on your pussy like a starving man. "Jesus, Mark," you gasped, your head thrown back in ecstasy. "Don't. Fucking. Stop..."

You doomed yourself, his eyes meeting yours

But just as you were about to tumble over the edge, he delivered a harsh teething and pulled away, leaving you empty and aching. You groaned at the loss, but it was quickly silenced as he covered your mouth with his, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

You could feel his cock, hard and throbbing, pressing against your thigh. He ground against you, seeking friction, and you knew he was just as desperate as you were. With a snarl, he grabbed your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach. He yanked your hips up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You barely had time to steady yourself before he was inside you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

You cried out at the sudden invasion, your walls stretching around his thick length. But he didn't give you time to adjust, setting a punishing pace that had the headboard slamming against the wall. Each thrust was harder than the last, his hips slapping against your ass as he pounded into you. The obscene sound of skin on skin filled the room, mixing with your muffled moans and his grunts of pleasure.

His hand found your hair, fisting the strands and pulling your head back. He leaned over you, his chest pressed against your back, his breath hot against your ear. Both of too far gone in the haze of pleasure to form coherent words. He seemed to take that as a yes, his thrusts becoming even more brutal.

You felt the pressure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with each snap of his hips. Your legs began to tremble, your arms threatening to give out beneath you. "Come for me," he demanded, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub. "Let me feel you come all over my cock." This time coming as a more of a plea.

And with that final command, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your walls clamped down around him, fluttering and squeezing as wave after wave of ecstasy washed through you. Behind you, Mark let out a guttural moan, his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge. He buried himself deep one last time, spilling his release inside you with a shuddering groan.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both struggling to catch your breath. Finally, Mark slipped out of you, rolling onto his back and taking you with him. “We’re… not done yet, you fuck.” You sneered, and he obliged with a toothy grin. The tip of his cock rubbed gingerly against your lips as he parted the soft flesh. This is so dramatically written LMFAO.

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

[seraphdreams]

DON'T FORGET ME | BAJI KEISUKE.

⋆˙⟡♡ synopis. going to a concert with your best friend certainly has its perks. and so does hooking up with one of the bandmates.

⋆˙⟡♡ contains. bimbo!reader, rockstar!baji, unprotected sex, pet names, asphyxiation, creampie, semi-public sex, baji being sleazy + eighteen plus, mdni.

⋆˙⟡♡ word count. 3.3k.

“Thanks for coming to tonight’s show! Here’s one more song before we head out!”

You’d never been much of a fan of underground rock music, and quite frankly, you still weren’t. Something about obnoxiously loud vocals backed up with random electric guitar riffs just never settle right within your spirit. In fact, you almost forgot the real reason you stood just yards away from one of the biggest up and coming rock bands.

For one thing, the air was incredulously too suffocating. Bodies upon bodies virtually sewn together despite the spacious arena that held them, and the stage lights abnormally dim—Only a few saffron-hued luminescences casted upon the four males that appeared on the platform. You hardly saw the members in the far back on their guitars but of what you could make out, one had white hair decorated with a small black streak and tan skin that glimmered under the hot lights while the other, with a dark neck tattoo and bold eyes, drank from his half-full water bottle.

Mostly by the front and center of the stage, occupied the drummer and the person who was just speaking out from the mic mere seconds ago.

“That’s my fucking brother!” Your best friend and little sister of the main vocalist, Airi shouted. She was but the replication of her brother; large, emerald orbs dazzled with long dark brown eyelashes and heaps of wavy blonde hair that fell downward to her lower back. Her outfit choice of leather pants donned with a matching corset top left none of her figure to the imagination, an ode to her love of the genre.

Wherever Airi went, you followed, and when she proposed the idea of seeing her brother and his bandmates perform, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity—Not to mention the free front row tickets he offered.

It was clear Chifuyu heard his sister from the crowd, looking down at the two of you with an illustrious smile and gesturing a two finger salute. He inched back with the microphone taut in the grip of his left hand and sent off a cue to the rest of his bandmates. Music followed hastily after and he began to sing.

Throughout the whole show, your eyes remained locked onto the raven-haired drummer. You marveled at each and every ministration he made, how his demeanor seemed to switch with each passing song and how the sweat accumulated on his perfectly toned body. In your head, you could’ve cursed Airi for not telling you about him beforehand, he’s totally your type.

You bobbed your head along to the melody that flowed within your ears and it was evident to Airi that you were enjoying the show you formally told her you “probably wouldn’t enjoy.”

She leaned over to sonorously whisper-yell in your ear. “Having fun?” The expiration of her words practically fell to flat ears had you not seen her in your peripheral view. In all honesty, you were more-so focused on the aggression that sexy drummer displayed while he played. How did he not break the drumset? Surely, he was strong enough to do so.

“Huh?” You peered over at her, vacant eyes meeting her jaded ones. She gave you her signature allknowing look and turned back to face the band.

Soon enough, the music stopped and the venue was filled with its final cheers. The stage went ominously tenebrous and the rest of the audience filed out of the stadium, except for you and Airi.

“Wanna go chill backstage?” Airi proposed. She pointed her thumb in the direction of a hallway filled with staff. “Are we even allowed to?” you started. “The place is packed with security.”

Airi mirthfully elbowed you, that sly smile on her perfectly made-up face. “I’m family, they’ll understand.”

One thing you couldn’t knock about your best friend was her adventurousness. Truthfully, you were just as bad as her, yet a bit more wary of getting in trouble—Especially if the law was involved, but you liked fun. And this was definitely what you needed. “Show me the way then, Little Matsuno.”

And with that, the both of you had set foot on your way to heading backstage.

Which undoubtedly felt like the case until you found yourself stranded among other concertgoers and personnel that you lost sight of your friend. She couldn’t have gotten far so where the hell was she? You continued your search by calling her phone, walking in any direction to pick up the slightest amount of signal.

“Hey.”

The bellow of a deep voice stopped you dead in your tracks and you sheepishly looked up with silent hopes that you hadn’t gotten in it with the wrong person. Much to your dismay (Or maybe it was a blessing), the man you’d been eyeing all night stood tall above you. Long, wavy noir tresses sat at his wide shoulders to match his black tank top that was slightly rolled up at the hem, showing off his midriff and that delicious v-line. His toned and ink littered arms folded across his chest while an undistinguishable expression etched over his features.

“Uh, hi.” You blinked a few times in dubiousness at the circumstance you so gracefully landed yourself in. Proximal distance to his figure led you to tread backward a few steps until you were at a comfortable enough range to take him in fully.

He looked so fucking mean, thick eyebrows pursed together, and sharp, amber eyes narrowed upon your figure.

“What do ya think you’re doin’?”

You had half a mind to drop to your knees and show him what was on your mind, yet you remained to keep yourself where you stood, for his sake of course.

His eyes bored holes into your frame. Whereas you couldn’t keep up with his unwavering eye contact, he managed to take note of every little quirk about you. “Um.. I was looking for my friend.” Your throat felt dry as you began to speak. “She said I could come backstage—Her name’s Airi Matsuno, Chifuyu’s sister.” The words got quieter as you spewed them out. You weren’t sure if it was your nerves or the intimidation, he’s so much taller up close.

“Eh? Fuyu’s lil’ sis?” He looked behind him to one of his bandmates, that same one as before with the blond streaks and neck tattoo. It seemed as though every member had genes blessed by the deities up above. “Tora, does Fuyu have a sister?”

The man you come to realize as “Tora” affirms your claim, adding that he had just seen Airi and Chifuyu leave the venue.

“Damn it, Ai.” You thought to yourself as if she’d actually given one day to not be herself.

The drummer turns back to look at you, this time unfolding his arms and standing somewhat widely. His thick dark brows remained quirked in a perplexed manner. He leans down to meet your gaze, hands hidden in his pockets as he concludes. “Some friend you got there. She left ya all alone.”

“She does that sometimes.” You reply.

He straightened up back to his full height, his expression softening, and a slight crack of a smile on his lips. “Guess i’ll keep ya company ‘til she comes back.”

Any other day, your humility would’ve been disregarded to the back of your mind. In all actuality, you were discourteous and loved attention, yet the feeling of a celebrity seemingly stooping low enough for some lost, 20-something year old groupie in disguise, kept your modesty in perfect condition.

“Oh, you don’t have to-“

Your words were quickly cut off by his cold demeanor as he opened one of the doors in the narrow hallway beside him. “But I wanna. /Ven aqui/.“ Eyes looked into yours like daggers and you couldn’t quite tell if he were vexed at your facade or if he were just blessed with bedroom eyes.

You followed him into what seemed to be his greenroom. It’s complete with a set of drums on one side near the corner and a half opened window, and a leather couch in the middle, not to mention the rack of clothes on the other edge.

“Didn’t catch your name, though. You are?” He questioned, sitting at the drumset in front of you. You made yourself comfortable on the plush couch, pulling the hem of your pink bodycon down in hopes you don’t reveal too much.

“I’m Y/N. And you are?”

He raises an eyebrow then follows it with a hearty laugh. “You came to my show ‘nd ya don’t even know my name?” You felt heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but he was right. You didn’t know any of the members aside from the obvious, Chifuyu.

“My friend dragged me here, I just go wherever she goes.” You retort, a cordial grin on your face. He adjusts his sitting position and spreads his legs slightly.

It’s coming. The urge to suck dick.

“Yeah? Name’s Baji. You can call me Keisuke though.”

He pulled the pair of drumsticks from his back pocket and quietly tapped away. “You’re cute.” Dexterously, he twirled one of the sticks between his fingers where you noticed his black lacquered nails paired with the skull-esque designs of the rings that adorned said digits. “You like a college student or something?” Heat spread across your cheeks at the comment. A band member calling you cute was not something you thought you’d experience tonight, but there’s lots you haven’t experienced yet.

“Mhm. It’s a lot though, I'm thinking of dropping out.” More calm your voice was, and he picked up on your energy, sending a stern glance your way.

“Nah, don’t do that.” The melodic tapping from the drumsticks halt. “Ya seem like a smart girl, don’t be like me.”

Curiosity overtakes you, causing you to press forward. “And what are you like, Keisuke?” His name tasted saccharine falling off your tongue and filling your ears with the sweetest music. Keisuke, Keisuke, Keisuke.

“Dropped out at 14, ran around with a few gangs, and now ‘m doing music.” His words register in his mind before he continues. “But ‘m makin’ good money now, maybe you should live like me a little.”

A giggle resonated within the room and he felt his heart swell at the cute laughter. He wasn’t quite sure what urged your joy but he returned it with a smile of his own. You truly do have the prettiest face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ya know..” His words slipped off his tongue like honey and in turn you gave him the most of your attention, curious eyes locked on his dismal bronze ones. “I got this beat I can’t get out my head. Can I get your opinion?” His expression was glazed over in calculation with a slight pat to his thigh that you seemingly picked up. Instinctively, your body moved on its own and replied to his silent call. As you nestled into his lap, you only hoped that this had been what he was asking for. “Mhm.” Your response was curt and barely escaped under the pressure of your breath.

Your back was pressed against his chest and your core was slotted over his thigh, a relatively intimate position despite the need for cordial relations. He started up on the drums, stirring up the common one-two, one-two beat that emphasized its focus on the round bass drum that sat at the bottom of the set. It was as if with each press to the drum pedal the muscle of his thigh dangerously tensed beneath your heat, eliciting surges of delirium and pleasure straight to the very source. It’s clear he knew what he was doing from the onsight of your glossy lips parting and the faintest decibel of a gasp leaving your lips.

“Y’like it?” Deep voice ghosted over your ear as he leaned in precariously close. “Y’sure it won’t sound better like this?”

The beat he originally created morphed into one of a sonorous, heavier tone. Your body vaguely rocked over his, your tits bouncing from the nefarious rising and falling of his leg in the sweetest, yet most sinister tandem with his flexing thighs.

And all restraint vanished from within you as you diligently rutted your hips. You felt embarrassed. Like a needy nuisance needed to be taken care of, yet again, your humility sat idly by and pride dwindled from your very being.

“That—That sounds nice.” Your reply was breathy and if you thought enough of this through, your little plan of passing your insatiability off as adjusting your position would’ve worked on him. But it didn’t.

The sultry, damp sensation he felt on his blackened denim pants told him otherwise. Baji chuckled to no one in particular, the sharp canines on display while he smirked mirthfully to himself. He’s had his fair share of girls practically throwing themselves at him, and still, you were the most fun to play with.

The flexing and relaxing of his muscles didn’t let up, as with your ruthless humping. You held tightly to his knees with the pressure only gradually increasing when you felt yourself crumbling in his hold.

On the verge of your awaiting orgasm, Baji’s lips press against the shell of your studded ear.

“I saw you starin’ in the crowd tonight—Couldn’t keep my eyes off that tiny lil’ dress you’re wearing.” He moved one hand from the drumset to snake over the front of your garment, calloused hands kneading at your soft and pert breasts. The movement was one of full dexterity. Your nipples ached as he pinched and rolled them between his fingers.

“Knew you weren’t wearin’ a bra.” his lips against your ear trailed down to your neck which caused the helplessly rutting of your core over his thigh, strikingly close to orgasm. You had managed to keep your whimpers low but due to proximity, you left nothing to be unheard. A harsh tug of your nipples pulled you from the hazed out state you were entranced in.

“Gotta tell Tora I won our little bet.”

False lashes fluttered with every move the both of you made. Your voice was soft as you responded, “You’re just so fucking fine, Couldn’t help myself.”

He was used to the attention. He’s a 6’0 rockstar with a checkered past — Any girl would fall for that cliche shtick, yet something within him wanted to toy with your naivety. Would you really believe anything he said?

“I don’t get much attention from fans, but you? You’re special.”

It was that moment that sent you over the edge, a lewd cry followed by your body convulsing, pretty face screwed up in pleasure, letting Baji know your release had hit you, and fucking hard at that.

“Oh ho? That did it for ya, huh?” He watched in awe at the sopping mess of his pants while allowing you to ride out your high completely before those same strong hands bunched your dress up at the hip.

You rested against his back for a while as stray pants waned themselves from your lips.

“Ya poor thing, I ain’t even get to finish my drummin.’” his hands left your tits as he rasped out the words and settled on turning you around to face him on his lap. “Sorry..” you meekly responded. An airy chuckle sounded itself from him as he whips out his throbbing hard length.

It should be illegal to be as thick as a fucking Coke can, yet there he was — The tip flushed a deep mauve, and pretty pearlescent beads of precum streaming down his cock and over the few veins that seemed to run along the shaft. The prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, and you stared in awe until the deep clearing of his throat caught your attention.

Pumping it shallowly, he pushed those cute fucking pink lace panties to the side, revealing your glistening and sticky folds to him. He prodded the tip at your hole, bullying your core that left you aching for his touch.

“Ride it for me, muñequita.”

With no hesitation, you sank yourself down onto his cock, carefully taking him in.

“Fuck—” The low whimper is sounded from you as you began to bounce yourself on his lap. He felt impossible to take and with your hands rested over his shoulders paired with his arms at your waist, slowly pushing you further down, you didn’t think you could take it. “That’s it, baby. Ride it like it’s yours.” He cooed, letting his head fall back as you got him off.

You bit at your plush bottom lip to elicit any moans from flying which reigned ineffective when you picked up pace and rolled your hips, allowing his cock to drag against that spongey spot within your walls that had your resolve weakening.

Obscenities and the reverberation of skin on skin bounced against the walls of his green room. You were tighter than any girl he’d ever been in and much cuter too.

Once you were able to fall into a comfortable rhythm of bouncing on his cock he hastily began to work toward his own release having grown tired of your saunterous riding.

He lifted you up off his length and turned you around so that you were bent over his drumset. “I know you were trying your best,” he followed up his words with a quick slap to your ass before aligning his cock with your slit once more, “But i’m gonna need better than that.”

Baji noticed the way you faltered once he built up his own pace, with more fervor than the previous. You almost fell forward with the trajectory of the thrusts and to his chagrin, your moans amplified.

“D-Deep! ‘S so deep!” You cried wantonly. You felt your guts get turned inside out with his vigor. A scoff was heard from him in response, the inked up hands that rested at your hips now filing up your body and hooking at your elbows, holding you back flush against him as he continued to hit harder within your walls.

You felt unsteady when his right hand trailed up to your neck and gripped at your jaw before his index and middle finger slipped past your lips into your mouth. The metal of the rings tasted metallic and felt cold against your tongue, those being the least of your concerns when you felt your high from previously coil right up within you once more.

Without warning, you were hit with your release that left you limp in his hold, his fingers retracting from your mouth and messily running down your fat bottom lip where he also smeared a mix of saliva and cherry oil gloss down your chin.

Just momentarily from the sight of how pretty you looked, convulsing and crumbling because of his doing, he followed suit and filled your insides in thick, hot spurts of his cum, drops dripping down your thigh when he continued to rut inside you, emptying himself of his need.

It took you both a while to settle down, his lips hungrily taking in your neck down to your shoulder.

“Was that deep enough for ya?” He rasped and haziness filled your system when you pant to respond. “I-“

Just before you could respond, there’s a knock at the door and a familiar voice accompanied.

“Y/N! You in here? I’m ready to leave!”

It’s Airi, loud and clear after her awaited reappearance.

“Shit.” Baji cursed under his breath. He pulled you off of him and bent you over slightly, fetching a thick black marker from the table beside him and holding the cap between his teeth.

The uncomfortable sensation of the felt tip on your ass trailing down to your thigh lasted mere seconds as you tried to make out the shapes you couldn’t see. “Here’s my number. Don’t forget me.”

He stood you up properly and fixed your skirt, sending you off with a pat to your ass.

“I’ll see you again, Keisuke?”

“Damn right you will.”

tags - @meena-in-a-nutshell @imkumichan @messofavs @aotdump @saaraunicorn @cloudnitee @saffronity @aasouthteranoswife @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @anahryal @withlovetengen @zuuki @keooooothings @bunnyyamor @koucaine @bluerskiees @ready2readagain @sarnghoe

+ a great big thanks to my moot ! @lovelysho thank you so much for beta reading my love !

– all rights reserved © seraphdreams 2023. do not repost, change, copy, republish, read, translate, or recommend my work on tumblr or any other platforms without prior permission. feedback is widely appreciated!

[sencrose]

— LOVE ME HOW YOU LIKE ♡

pairing: okkotsu yuuta x idol!f!reader

tags: noncon, stalking, yandere, breaking in, unreliable narrator (mostly yuuta pov), aged up charas (yuuta’s in his 20s), solo male masturbation, squirting, breeding/pregnancy talk/baby trapping, multiple orgasms, overstim, cunnilingus, fingering, yuuji makes a short guest appearance in the intro lol

wc: ~8.6k (... idk how this happened)

summary: Yuuta’s oshi is a horrible enabler.

a/n: happy belated birthday yuuta! atp you can rip underground idol!reader from my cold dead hands. based off of a post i made a while ago. thank you @infinitatis-ink for beta reading :> dividers by @/adornedwithlight

ao3 link here

It’s not Yuuta’s usual scene, but he felt bad when nobody responded to Yuuji’s invitation to spend a night out in Shinjuku. In Yuuta’s defense, he thought they would maybe go to an izakaya or two, get a meal and a few drinks before heading home. However, what Yuuta was unable to predict was Yuuji deciding to go to an idol show on the fly. Yuuji was practically begging him to go, making promises that it’ll be a lot of fun. And when words don’t work, Yuuji grabs Yuuta by the wrist and leads him to the venue despite his protests.

So that’s how Yuuta finds himself in a random basement venue crowded with sweaty guys on a Saturday night. Again, not necessarily his idea of a night out. But Yuuta’s a good sport, so he’ll do his best to enjoy the show anyways.

What starts as a murmur bursts into a boisterous cheer as soon as the stage lights flash on. It’s radiant, nearly blinding. It’s not the lights that sear a black hole into his vision. No, it’s you.

In that fluffy costume that makes you look like a slice of cake personified. The way your skirt bounces exemplifies the pep in your step as you make your way around the stage. Your eyes meet his as you wave into the crowd, and he thinks he’s having a heart attack.

“Good evening everyone! We really hope you enjoy the show we have in store for you tonight!” you speak into the mic, exuding a blissful aura like it's second nature. Yuuta swears he can feel it embrace him, the first warm ray of sunlight you feel after a barren winter.

The crowd roars in response before quieting down. The silence only serves to spur the anticipation drumming throughout his body, his heart beating loudly in his ears, catching in his throat.

The instrumental starts with a sweet chiptune lead, and all hell breaks loose. The rhythmic chants and clapping nearly blow out his ear drums, and he loses Yuuji in the chaos of fans rushing closer to the stage. It’s disorienting, trying to follow along while not losing his sights on you.

He moves along with the crowd, ebbs and flows like the ocean’s waves. No matter how much he’s pushed, he’s focused on you. Once he finds his footing, it gets a bit easier. It lets him focus on other things, like learning your name through the fan chants. It’s a cute one, one he savors on his tongue whenever he yells along with the crowd as you sing.

With every step, every graceful note that spills from your lips, he can only feel himself falling deeper. It’s like you’re a siren, and him, the unfortunate sailor who’s all too willing to walk to his demise. He yells and cheers even louder in his trance, just to see if you’ll grace him with another look.

And you do.

It’s brief but you look right at him again for the second time tonight, with a dazzling smile that puts the sun to shame.

How can he keep your attention? Maybe he should’ve stopped by and bought a lightstick or two before coming in.

Song after song after song, he roots for you with a frenzied energy he didn’t know he had in him. It’s a battle against his parched throat to force the words out and really make sure you can hear him. Every time you look his way, he feels electric. It’s like static, all his hair standing on edge like he’s rubbed a balloon and your gaze is the point of contact that zaps you both.

Before he knows it, the show’s over. It’s far too soon for his liking. Even though it was Yuuji’s idea, Yuuta’s really warmed up to the whole thing–far more enthusiastically than he thought he’d ever be, so much so he’s tallying the number of times you looked his way.

Six. Six times he’s felt that electricity run through him, six times you’ve made him catch his breath and nearly choke on it. Did you feel it too? There’s no way you didn’t. He could see it in the way your eyes sparkled, in the smile that was hand-delivered to him. It’s too many times to be a coincidence.

Yuuta only manages to snap out of his trance when all the lights turn back on and Yuuji slings his arm around him.

“Sorry I lost ya earlier,” Yuuji apologizes, out of breath, presumably from dancing and chanting with the wotas, “how was it?”

“It was,” he pauses for a moment, “fun.”

“See, I told you it’d be fun!” Yuuji beams at the confession. “You wanna get chekis?”

“Chekis?”

“Yeah, like a picture with one of the girls. I already know who I’m choosing tonight!” Yuuji pats Yuuta on the back, a friendly gesture Yuuta returns in kind. “But since you don’t know the members, you can just choose a color. Doesn’t really matter.”

It doesn’t really matter, he said, but it really does. Because if Yuuta chose differently he never would have been able to meet you.

So once he gets to the front of the line, he points at the laminated picture of you.

It shouldn’t be this overwhelming. Idols are normal people too. It’s a lot more obvious with underground idols, in the dingy live venues they book, in the way they stumble over their words on stage or occasionally forget a dance move or lyric. There’s appeal in the imperfect, a diamond in the rough.

But that’s the thing, you still shine bright, blindingly so.

As Yuuta walks up to you, his nerves only get worse. His senses are running on overdrive taking you in, in all your ruffly glory. Something sweet and floral hits his nostrils as he breathes in. He didn’t consider you’d be wearing perfume. It’s the right amount – just enough to whet the palate and bite his tongue in fear of saying something wrong.

He thinks he’s seeing things when he’s barely an arms width away from you, and everything about you seems to sparkle.

You look giddy when he gets up to you, a large smile plastered on your face with open arms as if you’re reuniting with an old friend.

Is he supposed to hug you?

While he hesitates, you’re quick to close the distance, wrapping your arms around his waist. Yuuta carefully does the same to you, doing his best to not implode on the spot. When you let go, he’s flushed in the face and has to think about something else to calm himself down.

“Ah! I haven’t seen you around,” you ask with your hands behind your back and eyes wandering like you’re examining him, “you’re new here, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, you could say that,” he says. The room feels ten degrees hotter.

“What’s your name?”

“Yuuta.”

“Yuuta…” you repeat carefully, as if you’re tasting it on your lips, “Cute name for a cute guy. Is it ok if I call you Yuu-tan?” You look at him with this doe-eyed expression that makes his chest taut.

When you say it like that, with your eyes glimmering under the stage lights, how could he say no? Yuuta’s stumbling over his words, babbling like an idiot before he’s finally able to get out a meek, “sure.”

You seem to like that, your face lighting up with pure glee.

“Alright Yuu-tan, what kind of pose did you have in mind?”

He absolutely did not think this far ahead. He has to tell himself to calm down, breathe in, breathe out, before asking, “what kind of poses do you usually do?”

“Mmm… Hearts are pretty common I’d say.” You gently grab his hand and the softness of your skin triggers alarm bells in his head. He’s in danger. “But since it’s your first time, how about we do something special?”

You say it in a way that has him blushing harder – first times.

“S-special?” he repeats.

Carefully, you wrap your arms around his waist. Softer than when you first grabbed him. Like there’s a gentle affection weaved within your embrace.

Your face is pressed against his chest. It’s enough for his breathing to shorten, to be far too aware of the pressure you place on him.

With an innocent pout you look at him, softly reassuring him, “Just pretend I’m like your girlfriend or something.”

You’re close–too close. And this whole situation is just too much for him. There’s no escape from you–your smell, your warmth, the softness of your skin.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Yuu-tan?” you ask, leaning into him more.

Did he hear you right? Every time you talk it feels like you do so with the express purpose of stealing the air from his lungs. But still, there’s no way that’s what you asked him. Right?

“Huh?”

“I said,” you purr into his ear before repeating your question, “do you have a girlfriend, Yuu-tan?”

So, he did hear you right. Now he’s scrambling again for an answer, blood pumping so hard he can hear it steadily pulsing in his ears.

“N-No.”

“Then you can think of me as yours!” you exclaim, far too easily. It echoes like a clocktower’s bell at noon. If he listens close enough, he swears he can hear the notes of a wedding march.

The only anchor that can bring him back down to Earth is a tug on his shirt, a whisper of your touch against his chest. When his eyes meet yours, he’s starstruck. The glitter around your eyes only serves to make his heart beat faster, how it sparkles and makes you look even sweeter.

“Alright, look at the camera for me, okay?”

So he does. You get in position too, soft lips pressing against his flushed cheek. It happens too quickly for him to react, and with a countdown from three and a flash, the picture’s taken.

You’re quick to sign the polaroid, and Yuuta can barely get a look at what you’re writing before you finish.

“Hold it carefully, ok? The ink can smudge,” you instruct him, gently passing over the picture. “And don’t shake it! The whole shake it like a polaroid thing is a myth.”

He silently takes the picture in his hand, carefully taking it in. You’re able to fit a decent amount on the picture. In the top left corner, “To my beloved Yuu-tan,” and in the bottom right, “Thank you for coming!”

“I hope you’ll come back again,” you say sheepishly, a bit like a girl who just confessed to their crush on the school rooftop.

“O-Of course!” Yuuta’s practically forcing the words out of his words, doing his best not to choke.

“Pinky promise?” You lay out your pinky for him, waiting expectantly. Yuuta, on the other hand, is struggling to recollect himself.

“Mmhm.” He brings his pinky over to yours, and you wrap around each other’s fingers. Yuuta thinks it’s just that until you bring your hand back to kiss your thumb.

“Seal it with a kiss?” you ask with an innocent smile.

“Huh?”

You don’t repeat yourself, simply look at him in a way that makes his cheeks red. After a moment, Yuuta repeats the motion, nearly shaking as he brings both of your hands closer to his lips before kissing his thumb.

By the time he finds the courage to look you in the eyes, he’s sure there’s steam coming out of his ears. His gaze shifts down, but darts back up as soon as he hears you giggle.

“You promised! No take-backsies. I don’t like broken promises.” You pout before breaking back into that picture perfect smile of yours. “Thanks for coming by, Yuu-tan!”

– The post concert dress down is the same as usual. Struggling to get out of polyester costumes clinging to your skin from sweat, doing your best to fold your ruffled layered skirt into a manageable mass and failing the first couple of times. It’s a routine you’ve gotten used to.

What you’re not used to, is receiving a warning from one of your groupmates.

“Hey.” Your group leader stands over you as you attempt to continue packing your costume away. “You've gotta be a bit more careful.”

You look up at her with a raised brow, taking in her disappointed expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she relents, her tone becoming more annoyed than disappointed.

So this is what you think it’s about. But it really isn’t any of her concern. You haven’t had any problems until now, so what’s the harm in continuing? If anything, she should be grateful. If you were to crunch the numbers, you’re sure you bring in a decent amount of fans by playing up the girlfriend experience schtick. And not just any type of fans – devoted ones. Those that return to night after night to spend a minute of their time with you. Those that would empty out their wallets at a snap of your fingers.

If you were to be honest with yourself, you like the power you hold. There’s a thrill that rushes to your head when your fans are stumbling over their words, stringing along a response for the sole purpose of pleasing you. But there’s no way you’d ever admit that to her. She just wouldn’t get it.

You let out a deep sigh. “It’s fine! This type of crowd is harmless. I’m just trying to do my job, you know.”

“You’re going to attract some crazies if you keep going down this path.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You shrug her off as you finally fit your costume into your luggage, swiftly zipping it close before it has the chance to recoil.

“Hey.” She grasps your shoulder to grab your attention. “Listen, I’m being serious,” she says, and there’s a genuine tinge of concern in her voice.

“Me too. I’m making us money. Good money. And if it means I have to bat my lashes and put on an act, then that’s what it is.”

She sighs, defeated. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

–

In the days after the concert, Yuuta falls into a rabbit hole. It’s just too easy – your group is pretty active on social media, trying and promoting just about anything that’ll stick. It starts simple enough with a livestream here and there. Just listening to you talk makes his heart all warm and fuzzy.

The longer he lurks and follows, the more he realizes just how many opportunities there are to take you in. You being an underground idol works in his favor. Desperation’s the name of the game, with you selling just about anything you can get your likeness on – signed polaroids, acrylic standees, can buttons, the list goes on.

Eventually, he’ll put in orders for those as well, but none of them replace the sensation of holding your hand in person, of your soft lips against his face.

At the end of the day, there’s no way you can’t see his devotion towards you. At this point he knows everything there is to know about you–through the selfies you post online, the memes you retweet, even the daily blog post where you write about your day.

There’s more than that as well. There’s an inherent intimacy he feels in the single shot chekis he orders as soon as the shop link drops on Twitter, in the comments he leaves on your livestreams, with the username you unknowingly gave him.

And in the short weeks he’s been following your account, he’s greeted with a rare chance encounter. A custom video, made by you, just for him. And though the price is probably hefty for what it is, he’s quick to seize the opportunity.

Sure, he’s burning a hole in his wallet. But how can he complain? When he can hear your sweet voice again, talking to him like he’s the only one in the room. It’s the closest thing he can get to seeing you for now. Things have just been so busy these days. He wonders how other sorcerers play the balancing act between dating and work.

But just a couple weeks later he gets an e-mail. He nearly jumps in his seat in his room when he sees the e-mail notification with the subject line “to my beloved yuu-tan~”.

His phone comes alive with you in frame, sitting in something different from your usual stage costume. Something cute, something that sends butterflies to his stomach and a blush to his cheeks. A comfy sweater that seems just a little bit too big for you, along with a matching skirt. The hem dangerously brushes against your upper thighs, and he has to make a considerable effort to draw his gaze back to your eyes.

The background is a simple white backdrop, and judging from the lighting situation, it’s probably something you filmed in your room. You’re filming this. In your room. Just for him. The thought is enough to make his heart race.

“Is this on?” Your finger taps on to the camera, face getting closer to the lens before moving back. Even when you’re clueless, you’re adorable. “Ah, it is.”

“Yuu-tan! Thanks for supporting me so much as you always have!~” Your voice is bright as always. The way your nickname for him dances on your tongue feels like a salve for even the most mortal of wounds.

“Your support is number one in my heart, you know. But Yuu-tan…”You drag out his name in a way that’s too much for him, and the way you pout up at the camera? This has to be attempted murder, he thinks. But he continues listening attentively. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. I miss you, I really do.” Your voice pulls on his heartstrings and makes him ridden with guilt. It genuinely pains him to hear you like this, his chest tightening at the sound. But then your voice lightens up, your expression brightens with the next words that slip past your lips, “you’ll come to the next show, won’t you?”

Yuuta finds himself nodding at his phone, as if you’ll be able to see his response if he’s enthusiastic enough. Yet, it’s as if you knew exactly how he’d reply.

“Alright, I’ll see you there then! This is a promise.” You lift your pinky up to the camera before pulling it back. “Oh wait, I don’t think I can do this through the camera, haha. Guess you’ll just have to finish it in person! Bye bye!” you sign off, and the video ends there, paused on your angelic smile.

Yuuta nearly breaks his phone replaying the video over and over again. It’s surprising the image of you hasn’t been burned onto his screen. But there’s one part in particular that’s his favorite.

It’s when you pout and disarmingly look up at the camera. Bat your eyelashes in just the right way to make him pitch a tent in his pants. That combined with the way you say his name, it’s no surprise the next thing he does is frantically search for the bottle of lube in one of his drawers.

What happens next, there’s no way you can fault him for it. All he can think about is how cute you are as he dispenses lube on to his right hand and unzips his pants with his left. Once his cock’s free, he groans as he palms himself, daydreaming about how you’d hold him. His other hand finds his phone, repeatedly going back to the same timestamp where you’re practically moaning for him.

He finds a rhythm, fast. Not just for jerking off, but looping your voice in a way that makes him light-headed. It just adds another layer to the image of you playing in his head. If he times it just right, he can pretend that slick wet sound of him fucking his hand is your sweet pussy instead. His pace gets faster, thinking about the other kinds of sounds he could wring from you.

You would moan so sweetly for him. He’d do everything in his power to make sure of it. He’s far from a selfish lover. He’d be sure to prep you beforehand, his hands tracing the curve of your body before delving into your underwear. Start a bit slow, teasing you into asking for more as he plays with your clit. He wonders what kind of expression you’d wear.

Maybe you’d be a bit shy. Maybe you’d be needy, desperate to ask him for more. Whatever’s the case it doesn’t matter, as long as he gets to hear your sweet voice.

Once he’s tested the waters he’d go faster, and he thinks about the heave of your chest, the short breaths you’d give him as you’re getting closer. Would you call him by his real name, or the nickname you’ve given him? He doesn’t really mind either way, but part of him hopes for the former. Regardless, the mental image of you cumming on his fingers along with your voice played on loop is enough to send him over the edge with a choked moan, hot ropes of his seed spilling from his slit. Yuuta’s body nearly gives out as he relaxes back into his chair, exhausted and out of breath.

“Alright, I’ll see you there then! This is a promise!” Your voice plays again through his phone as he finally comes down from his high.

So he steels himself. Tells himself that it doesn’t matter what the occasion is, he’ll make sure to go to the next live show, the one after, and the one after that. It’s a promise, after all.

—

The next time Yuuta goes to see you, he’s a bit more prepared. At least, that’s what he likes to tell himself.

In reality, he’s still just as nervous as the first time. While the video was nice, it just doesn’t hold a light to seeing you in person. Getting a waft of that sweet, floral perfume of yours as he approaches you, relishing at how the smell of the live venue just seems to disappear in your presence. Then there’s the ball that forms in his throat that he can’t swallow as he gets closer.

You light up as soon as you see him, star-bright.

“Yuu-tan!” you shuffle up to him with your arms outstretched for a hug, “I missed you!”

“I missed you too,” he says, and it feels like a weight’s been lifted off his chest. He brings you in closer, but feels a bit self conscious when he realizes just how tight you’re holding on to him. Tight enough that he can feel the curve of your tits pressed against him. Then he finds himself panicking and letting go.

“Did you have a good time at the show?” you ask, seemingly unphased by his internal plight.

”I did, I did,” he replies, nodding a bit too enthusiastically.

“I’m so happy you remembered our promise.”

”O-Of course.”

“What kind of pose did you want today?” Your expression softens as you put your hands behind your back and bend slightly, look up at him doe-eyed and curious.

After all he put into coming to the show, he’s stunned into silence. He had one in mind, but the idea simply melted as soon as he saw you. He can’t help it, it’s just what you do to him. He’s sure he’s making a fool out of himself again, and can feel it in the way his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

”Could you choose again?” he asks meekly.

“Hmm…” you muse, pouting dramatically and placing your chin in between your thumb and index finger. Yuuta waits with bated breath.

“Could you make a circle with your arms?” you say with a snap of your fingers.

”H-Huh? Sure.” He awkwardly follows your instructions, his fingertips meeting one another, miming the act of holding a large box against his chest.

You bend down and disappear from his vision, only to reappear between his arms.

“Boo!” you exclaim, palms faced outward with your fingers spread apart.

Yuuta’s startled. It isn’t that the act itself is scary, but the way you press against his chest and grin at him awakens a gnawing desire in his head. The lengths he would go to see you smile like this for him–just for him. By the time he’s shaking out the thoughts out his mind, he realizes you’ve been waiting for a response.

“Ah, you really scared me,” Yuuta jokes, feigning a scared expression to soothe his nerves.

“Hm? You think I’m scary, Yuu-tan?” you quip back, but then you’re pouting your lips, and the way the glitter glimmers under the stage lights makes it look like you’re going to cry.

It’s like you’ve pierced his heart, he swears he can feel it. Maybe with Cupid’s arrow. It seems like a side effect of this is becoming a blubbering mess every time he tries to speak.

“N-No, that’s not what I meant!”

“Don’t worry,” you giggle with a bright smile that soothes his heart, “I’m just messing with you.”

Gently, you adjust his position until his arms are wrapped tightly around your waist.

But when you press up against him, Yuuta thinks you’re approaching dangerous territory. Even with all the layers in your skirt, he swears he can make out the shape of your ass. It doesn’t help that you keep adjusting your position, brushing against his clothed cock multiple times over. All he can do is bite his tongue and hope that nothing comes to light.

“Yuu-tan, is this ok?” You look back at him with that innocent glimmer in your eyes.

”Y-Yeah, it’s perfect,” he replies, nearly biting his lip as he does so.

You give the cameraman the okay to take the picture, and with a countdown that feels longer than last time, the picture’s taken.

“You’ll come to the next show, right, Yuu-tan?”

“Of course.”

“Pinky promise?” You outstretch your pinky again, and this time, Yuuta’s swift on the uptake, wrapping his pinky around yours with more enthusiasm than last time. It’s such a simple gesture, but Yuuta is fond of promises and all they represent. Love intertwined in a simple hook of pinkies. The gentleness of your thumbs pressing against each other, the giggle that leaves your lips as you make a heart with your hands.

“Pinky promise,” he repeats with a gentle smile.

—

In the days that follow, Yuuta’s come to a realization.

Don’t get him wrong, seeing you perform is great and all, but his favorite moments with you are the intimate ones. The one on ones, the short and sweet conversations where he can tune out the rest of the world. And when he does the math, they’re too few and far between.

Simply put, he can’t wait for the next show. So, he forges his own opportunities. It’s just too easy to do when you post selfies of where you’re handing out flyers for the night. Part of him thinks your agency should be a little more conscious of internet safety, but then again he wouldn’t have been able to find out where you were if that were the case.

Thanks to your social media posts, it doesn’t take that long to find you. It’s busy in Shinjuku but it’s pretty easy to follow the endless trail of girls hanging out flyers. Even though you’re lined up with all the other idols, hostesses, and maids dressed to the nines to promote themselves, he could easily pick you out of the crowd. They just don’t hold a candle to you.

“Please come to our show!” you exclaim with a smile, waving the flyer and hoping the random man in front of you will take it. And for once, he does. So you look up. “Oh! Yuu-tan! What’re you doing here?”

Yuuta feels all warm and fuzzy at the mention of the pet name.

“Ah, I was just running some errands,” he says sheepishly.

“Really?” you ask back in a hushed whisper before breaking into a smile, “what a coincidence!”

Before you can comment any further, a man sneaks into your field of vision and interrupts the conversation, shyly waving his hand at you and asking for a flyer. Your eyes light up for a second before you turn to give him your attention.

“Please come to our show!” you casually hand over the flyer to the stranger with a smile.

Yuuta doesn’t like that.

For a split second, he thinks you should quit being an idol. But then the thought boomerangs back, sits and marinates as he considers it further.

Yeah. That might be a good idea.

“It was nice chatting with you Yuu-tan, but I really gotta get back to work.” You pout at him. It hits him differently this time. He almost mistakes it for guilt, but it’s not quite that. It’s not as surface level, gets deep under his skin like poison and spreads unease throughout his body.

“I’ll see you at the next show, Yuu-tan!” you send him off with a wave and a smile, one he thinks is too soon.

Yuuta waits for you to brand your pinky for him, but it never comes.

Disappointment. It’s disappointment.

He’s been a fool. You’re distracted by all these so-called fans that you can’t see what’s right in front of you. Worse of all, your agency is putting you up to it. He really thinks it’s time for you to quit.

So Yuuta waits.

For an idol, you lack a crucial sense of self-awareness. You don’t even notice when Yuuta follows behind you once you finish your shift. Even as the bustle of the city crowd quiets down as you make your way to your agency building on a random side street, you don’t notice he’s trailing behind. Imagine how much danger you’d be in if some crazy fan were to follow you. You’re lucky to have Yuuta there for you, he just needs to make you see it too.

He almost loses you when you leave the agency building in much more normal and muted. He nearly has to stop himself from drooling at the sight of it. He can see it so clearly, the image of you wearing it on a date with him. Maybe it’d be at a cafe, somewhere he can see you laugh and smile with him as he feeds you an intricate, overpriced slice of cake. But before he gets too lost in his imagination, Yuuta shakes it off and resolves himself to continue following you.

The longer he follows you, the more Yuuta starts to feel invisible. You don’t notice him when he’s right behind you at the turnstill. When he follows you through all the twists and turns of the station, hell, even when he’s three spots behind you in line for the train. The lack of self-preservation is stunning, he thinks. More than that, how could you not notice your number one fan, your boyfriend, putting in all this effort to make sure nobody hurt you? But it doesn’t matter–soon enough you won’t have to worry about that.

You step off the train after a few stops, and Yuuta’s always behind you, not that you’re aware. The rush of people leaving the train is enough to help him blend in, but once you leave the station he adds some slack to the distance.

Another fifteen minutes of walking and he’s there, watching from a distance as you unlock your apartment and go inside.

Yuuta waits a minute before approaching the unit you just walked into. The lock to your apartment isn’t anything he can’t break through, and with a pointed blast of cursed energy, the lock breaks with a quiet snap. He makes a note to himself to tell you to get a better place.

Then again, it’d be best if you just lived with him anyways. He’d take care of anything, everything, as long as it’s for you.

The door creaks just a little as he opens it slowly, careful not to disturb you.

The apartment is cramped, narrow halls made even smaller by the coats you have hanging on wall hooks, but just down the corridor he can see your living room. Calmly, he takes off his shoes and places them down neatly next to yours before quietly walking over. You aren’t there.

He backtracks to where the hallway splits, approaching the bedroom door. It’s slightly ajar, tantalizing like a bow on top of a present. It’s as if you were expecting him.

When he pushes the door open with a slight tap, Yuuta’s greeted by a half naked figure. You were probably in the middle of undressing. He takes a moment to mentally thank whatever higher up there gave him the blessing of perfect timing.

“Get out of my apartment!” you yell, throwing whatever you can at him, but it doesn’t seem to do any damage. He walks casually towards you, even as you tremble. He doesn’t understand why you’re shaking, but he knows he can fix it. You have nothing to worry about, everything will be better now that he’s here.

His expression softens as soon as you look him in the eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me,” Yuuta coos.

“Y-Yuu-tan?” you ask, voice out of breath from thrashing around, “what are you doing here?” your voice drops in a way that he hasn’t heard before. It’s intimate, he thinks.

“I’ve been worried about you,” he says, a tenderness wrapped in his words.

“Worried?” you ask in the softest tone he’s ever heard. It endears him.

“Yeah. You didn’t pinky promise me today.”

“Huh?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You usually pinky promise me before you say bye. But you were so distracted today.”

There’s a brief pause, but it feels like it lasts a lifetime. Yuuta studies your expression, one he doesn’t recognize. When your eyes meet his, he takes it as a sign to explain himself further.

“And it’s not just that. During your lives, I see you looking at other guys and it really hurts me,” his voice softens, his chest tightening at the confession. He notices the tears falling down your face, and scrambles to make it better. “But you don’t need to do any of this anymore. You have me,” he says with a hand against his heart.

It doesn’t seem to help as your barely contained cries become louder.

“Yuu-tan, you’re scaring me,” you confess.

He tilts his head.

“I don’t think I’ve said anything scary?”

Another pause. He waits for an answer but isn’t given one he wants as you run for the door. It’s a losing game to run from him, his body quick to shield you from the door, his hand tightly wrapping around your wrist.

“Why are you running?” he asks, genuine hurt in his voice.

“Because you’re scaring me, Yuu-tan,” you reply, voice trembling.

“I’m not trying to be scary, I just want to be a good boyfriend for you,” he whispers softly against your ear, and to prove his point, his hand grazes your thigh, traveling further until his fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear. “Make you feel good like you’ve done for me,” he says breathlessly.

“N-No, I don’t want this, please,” you beg.

Your words are rearranged by the time they hit his ears. For all intents and purposes, all he hears is “I want this, please” and that’s all he needs to kiss you. It’s soft for a moment, but then it’s as if something snapped inside him.

There’s no patience behind it; he’s waited so long after all. He kisses like his time with you is sand trickling down an hourglass and he’s on his last grains. All groans and grasping at your cheeks to keep you with him, hot and heavy.

“Y-Yuu-tan, please,” you plead shakily.

There’s something at the end of your words he doesn’t catch, but he’s all too willing to give you what you want, especially when you’re asking so nicely.

Your breathing quickens as his hand presses down on your legs so you can’t escape. Yuuta’s hand gingerly traces up your thigh until he gets to your underwear. The soft breath you let out when he brushes over your clit sends blood rushing straight down to his cock.

His tongue brushes against the cotton fabric of your underwear, a cute moan leaving your lips, just for him. It’s what he’s been craving to hear, the subject of all his sweetest dreams and basest fantasies, and it’s better than he could have ever imagined. Now that he has it, he needs more.

There’s no warning, no tact to his movements, he can’t hold himself back any longer. There's only pure, unadulterated desperation with every stroke of his tongue against your underwear until he finally pulls the fabric to the side.

When your hand grasps his hair, he’s taken by surprise but he doesn’t dislike it. He indulges you and even lets out a throaty moan when you tighten your grip. He didn’t take you for the rowdy type, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?

It enables him further to dive into you and lap around your clit to hear those short gasps that sound like music to his ears. His arms wrap around your thighs to bring you in further, his nose pressing into you as he starts to build a steady tempo.

It seems to be too much for you with the way your body keeps shifting, but Yuuta is nothing if not determined. Maybe you’re testing the depths of his dedication, but there’s no universe where he’d ever fail you. No matter how much you move, he’s stuck to you like a leech, sucking at your clit with fervor. There’s intention with every motion, in the way he huffs and inhales deeply through his nostrils, in the messy way he sucks and slurps at your slick.

Even though he’s working so hard to please you, something’s not quite right. You’re so… quiet. It makes Yuuta think you’re holding yourself back. There’s no need for that, especially between lovers. Soulmates, even.

“Let me hear how good you feel,” he pants between breaths, “it’s okay.”

His movements become more pointed, determination lighting a fire in his stomach just to hear how sweet you get when you cum. The anticipation is killing him, but he thinks there’s been a breakthrough when your thighs tighten around his head, your breaths getting shorter by the second.

When you finally cum, it’s nothing short of heavenly. Sweeter than any note he’s heard you sing on stage, better than what he’s heard in his dreams. It’s not just that, but the full body reaction as well. The trembling, the taut muscles, the rise and fall of your chest– it’s all so erotic.

So your love language is words of affirmation. He makes note of that.

The only complaint Yuuta has is that the moment was far too short lived for his tastes. He has to hear more. See more. Have more. His fingers press gently against your wet hole, one small push from penetrating.

“W-Wait, it’s sensitive–”

Yuuta cuts you off by slipping it in with ease, quickly followed by another. Hungrily looks at the point where he’s connected to you. He starts slowly, fingers carefully pressing and curling until he finds a spot that gives him the reaction he’s looking for.

“Too-too much, stop-”

He doesn’t. Why would he ever deprive you of pleasure? He presses in further, bullies the spot that makes you scream louder. It’s not long until he sends you tumbling into another climax. It’s far more drawn out than the first. He can feel it in the way your walls convulse around his fingers.

Even though it might be too much, Yuuta still fingers you through it. He can’t help it. You just look so cute like this, reduced to a sputtering mess. And knowing that he’s the only one who has the privilege of seeing this side of you? He’s on cloud nine.

He knows he’s being a bit mean right now. But there’s so much lost time to make up for. He might also be letting his jealousy of seeing you with another man get the better of him right now, but it’s ok. At the end of the day, he’s making you feel good.

Yuuta watches with wonder and amusement as you cum again. He almost feels bad for pushing you this far, seeing the way you squeeze your eyes shut and thrash around through your orgasm. While he’s not a fan of your pain, he loves being your source of comfort, the one to clean up your tears. It’s a necessary evil, he tells himself.

Yuuta plants a trail of kisses down your neck to help shoulder the burden, and it seems to help as you come down from your high.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he sighs, adoration laced in his voice as he kisses your forehead.

“Y-Yuu-tan,” you pant, “you’ve already made me feel so good. D-Don’t you think that’s enough?”

“Of course not,” he responds with a soft gasp as if he’s incredulous at the idea, “I have so much more I want to give you.”

“More?” you ask shakily.

“Mhm,” he purrs with a soft smile, unphased by the tremor in your voice. His fingers slide in and out of you with ease, drawing another soft lewd sound out of you.

“No, no, no, I can’t, I can’t-” you plead, before you’re cut off by a kiss. Yuuta notices you have this habit of denying yourself anything good for you, but you don’t need to do that. What are boyfriends for? He doesn’t stop, even when you scratch and leave blossoming trails of rose on his skin. It only makes him intensify his movements, picking a fast rhythmic pace to hit that spot that makes you moan so sweetly.

When you cum with a wail, Yuuta’s there to swallow every cry you give him, tongue swirling against yours to help you through it. There’s a tenderness to it, as if he’s telling you it’ll all be okay. In between labored breaths he huffs in your ear with a neediness in his tone, “let it all out for me.”

He didn’t mean it literally, but he’s not displeased with the results either. That being said, it does catch him by surprise when you clench and gush all over him and the sheets. The warmth of you soaking his pants makes him feel dizzy with lust. Next thing he knows he’s nose deep into your folds, lapping up at everything you have to give. Not a drop goes to waste, not when he lifts your legs and traces the trail of juices from the fat of your ass to your inner thigh.

It’s just too much for him. When he comes up for air, he’s hastily picking at his pants.

“Have you done this for anyone else?” he asks as he unbuckles his belt and slides down his pants.

You shake your head furiously in embarrassment. It’s cute. Part of him wishes he could record a video of it and save it for later. But there’s more pressing matters at hand.

Yuuta’s hard cock presses against the fabric of his boxers, begging to be freed. His hand barely breaks through the elastic when it springs free, slapping his stomach from the recoil. Seeing your hole slick with arousal for him is almost enough to make him cum right there. He takes a deep breath and tries to collect himself.

Yuuta strokes his cock before pressing it between your folds, collecting all your arousal along the way. Even this is enough to make him shiver, feel it deep in his core. He bites his lip and lines himself up with your entrance. The sight of your hole quivering as he taps his tip against it makes him lightheaded.

So he starts slow, presses against your cunt steadily until he gets past that first ring of muscle that makes you gasp. From there, it’s just a matter of patience and self control, pushing further and further until he finally bottoms out with a groan. It goes in so easily, it’s like you were made for this–for him. Yuuta feels like he’s floating.

While Yuuta’s never been one to think about his size, he still sees you squeezing your eyes shut. His hand caresses your cheek before he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. He brings your hand up to his lips and gives your fingers a chaste kiss, from one lover trying to comfort another.

“Hey, it’s in. It wasn’t that bad, right?” he asks softly, like he’s letting you in on a secret.

You give him a shy nod, and he smiles at that.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he praises, gently wiping the tears from your eyes. Even in the afterglow of your tears, you look beautiful. Then again, he’d find beauty in anything you give him. It doesn’t matter what kind of expression you wear, as long as it’s just for him.

“I’ll start slow, ok?” Yuuta brandishes his pinky.

There’s a moment of pause, a shake to your hand as you wrap your pinky around his. He’s already one step ahead of you and swiftly seals it with a kiss and a giggle.

Yuuta keeps his promise, as he languidly rolls his hips into yours. It takes every ounce of self control to keep a slower pace, but he has to savor his first time with you. You feel perfect around him–your warmth enveloping him like a blanket, almost suffocating with its embrace. It’s too much for him, he can’t keep biting his lip and holding back his moans. Then again, he’d be a hypocrite holding himself back, wouldn’t he?

So he lets whatever sounds caught in his throat escape through his lips, lets you hear just how much you’re messing him up. All broken groans and whimpers of your name. And maybe it’s a bit too much for you, seeing you grab the pillow to cover your face. But Yuuta isn’t embarrassed, and you shouldn’t be either, so he’s quick to toss the pillow off the side of the bed.

“Y-Yuu-tan, please,” you ask.

It sounds like there’s something else you were going to say, but the noise thins out into a hushed whine. But Yuuta can read between the lines. His hands spread your legs apart further for leverage, his lips pressing against yours until he builds it up to a slew of open mouthed kisses. Tongue against tongue, choked gasps and moans escaping into each other’s mouths. He kisses you like he wants to consume you, breathes in so intensely like you’re the air he needs in his lungs.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. He can’t help himself from rutting his hips into yours a little harder, losing himself in the soft plush of your walls squeezing him tighter with every passing moment. Even the wet sounds of his cock fucking into you is melodic to him, along with your staccatoed gasps, it’s an earworm he wouldn’t mind keeping.

He can’t let himself all the fun though, his fingers making their way to your throbbing clit. It seems to catch you by surprise, earning a yelp from you that soon melts into a moan.

“Yuuta-”

The world stops moving. It’s as if he’s frozen in place as soon as he hears his name from your lips. No nickname, no extra letter. Just Yuuta. It’s enough to make his head spin, his nerves go haywire as he snaps his hips into yours faster, desperate to hear it again.

“Say it again,” he groans breathlessly, desperately trying to keep himself from cumming right then and there.

“Yuuta, Yuuta-” you whine in that tone he’s dreamt of, stroked himself to on lonely nights and he’s so close. All self control goes out the window as he practically fucks you into the mattress. He feels delirious feverish with an ailment that can only be cured through you. He can’t let you go; not now, not ever.

An idea hits him like a strike of lightning, reverberates throughout his entire being. His pace slows for a second. There’s a look of confusion on your face.

“If we have a baby, you’ll have to quit, right?” he asks, his finger gently tracing a heart around your stomach.

Your pupils dilate. Yuuta recalls that it’s a sign of love. Affection. His heart skips a beat.

“Y-Yuu-tan,” you mumble, a tremor in your voice, “what are you saying?”

“You’ll have to stay if we have a baby,” he whispers into your ear before his hips snap into yours, “right?”

You make some unintelligible noise in response, but he knows it’s just because you’re overwhelmed with joy at the idea. Knowing you’re happy makes him happy too.

There’s no time to waste, an urgency to Yuuta’s movements as he pushes against your legs until you’re folded into a mating press. His hips pick up a steady rhythm, the loud slap of skin echoing throughout the room.

Yuuta fucks you like he means to make good his proposal–his body pressed flush against yours, his hands wrapping around the back of your head to bring you into his embrace. He throws caution to the wind, lets lust take over.

Everything about you is overwhelming. How you scratch at his back, how you bite down on his neck hard enough to draw blood, how your legs tremble with each stroke. It’s like you want it just as bad as he does.

And who is he to deny you? His hand slips between your sweat covered bodies, trails down to your throbbing clit to show it some love. He wants you to feel as good as he does, or better. Preferably the latter.

He knows he’s doing a good job when he hears that tell-tale sign of your breaths quickening, along with your heart beating faster against his chest.

But something’s off.

You won’t stop throwing your body around, as if you’re trying to loosen his grip around you.

If this is your way of testing his love, then he’s passing with flying colors. It only lights a fire in him, determination ablaze in his fingertips as he draws tighter circles around your clit, the roll of his hips morphing to something slower, but deeper. It’s only a matter of seconds before your body gives in to his love and affection, cries sputtering from your mouth as your muscles tense up around him.

Yuuta can’t control himself any longer with your pussy convulsing around him, his pace becoming erratic, his breathing heavier. His voice breaks, a shaky whine catches in his throat before he goes over the edge.

“Love you, love you so much,” he cries before cumming, burying himself deep inside and making sure to give you everything he has. Every twitch of his cock leads to the undeniable warmth of his seed painting your insides white.

He takes a moment to collect himself and catch his breath, but he doesn’t take himself out of you. It’s like the intensity catches up with him all at once as he collapses onto you. Even in his state of exhaustion, he finds the energy to gingerly kiss your forehead.

“We’ll be so happy together, I promise.”

[universefcb]

↬❥ Goals for love.

Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

sy: You and his sister go to watch the semi-final game and he scores his first goal, dedicating it to you – a long-time friend of the Cubarsí family –

a/n: OMG! I can't believe it, our babe Cuba scored his first professional goal, I'm so proud of him!🥺. And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

warnings: No warning

No one requested this, I just wrote it because it's a cute Cubarsí moment!

The Barcelona sun was shining brightly that Tuesday afternoon. The city was buzzing with anticipation of the big game: Barcelona versus Atlético de Madrid. In the middle of the excited crowd, you – S/N – and Irene, Pau Cubarsí's older sister, walked towards the Stadium.

“Are you excited?” Irene asked with a mischievous smile.

“Very much!” you replied, adjusting the blue and maroon scarf around your neck. “Today is a big day for Pau.

Irene laughed, giving him a suspicious look.

“Just for Pau? Or for you too?”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart beat faster. Pau had always been a great friend, at least that was what he made sure to show everyone. But deep down, there was something more there—something you never had the courage to admit.

As soon as you arrived at the stadium, the atmosphere was electric. The fans were singing, the flags were waving, and the Barcelona anthem echoed through the stands. You were seated in a good spot, close to the pitch, with a privileged view of the game.

The team walked onto the field and his gaze automatically sought out Pau. He looked focused, but when his eyes met his in the stands, for a brief moment, his expression softened, and a small smile appeared on his lips before he turned and focused on the game.

The match was intense from the first minute. Atlético pressed, but Barcelona responded with dangerous attacks. Pau was playing incredibly well, cutting passes, anticipating plays and showing his confidence, despite his young age.

“Pau is playing too much!” Irene exclaimed, proud of her brother.

You agreed, but what really made your heart race was what happened a second later.

In the 21st minute – just two minutes after Pedri's goal – Barcelona won a corner. The crowd held their breath as Raphinha positioned himself to take the kick. The ball came perfectly to Pau, who rose high and headed it firmly into the back of the net.

GOAL!

The stadium erupted in cheers and applause. You jumped to your feet, screaming with joy, but then you noticed something. Pau ran to the side of the field and, with a determined look in his eyes, drew something in the air with his fingers.

The letter of your name.

You froze for a moment, feeling your heart race. He had never done anything like this before. Irene nudged you, her eyes wide.

“He did it for you!”

Your face flushed, and you brought your hands to your mouth, surprised and excited. Pau looked straight at you, his eyes shining with happiness, before being surrounded by his teammates.

In the end, the game ended in a 4-4 draw, and even with the draw, that day was special for Pau.

After the game, you and Irene waited for him outside the stadium. When he finally showed up, still wearing his Barcelona uniform, the smile on his face widened when he saw you.

“Congratulations on the goal, ace!” you said, trying to sound casual but feeling butterflies in your stomach.

He chuckled, running his hand through his sweat-damp hair.

“Thank you. But… that gesture was for you, Y/N.”

His heart raced.

"I perceived".

There was a moment of silence, just the two of them staring at each other under the stadium lights. Then, on impulse, Pau took a step forward, approaching you.

“I tried to hide it, but I don’t think I can anymore,” he said, his voice soft. “You’ve always been more than a friend to me.”

Your heart almost jumped out of your mouth. You never imagined that he actually felt the same way.

“Pau… I feel the same way too.”

He smiled, his eyes shining with happiness, and without thinking twice, he pulled you into a tight hug. You felt the heat of his body, the smell of grass and sweat, but none of that mattered. It was the perfect moment.

“So, does that mean you’ll go out with me after the next game?” he asked, amused.

You laughed, feeling lighter than ever.

“Only if you promise to score another goal for me.”

He laughed and, without hesitation, whispered:

“Promise made.”

[celestialgallaghers]

Got Me On My Knees [18+]

I love when Noel changes the words to slide away to make them even hornier. This one also turned out longer than expected oops. Shoutout to whoever requested this.

Summary: After weeks apart while he’s been on tour, you finally have Noel all to yourself. The longing reaches a breaking point as you both express just how much you’ve missed each other. But when Noel makes a shocking discovery, he becomes determined to show you exactly what you’ve been missing. 

Word count: 6.8k

You were enraptured. 

You’d seen Noel play before, of course, but something about this moment felt different. The way the stage lights cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the sheen of sweat on his skin. The near blissed out expression as he lost himself in the music, fingers gliding over the fretboard effortlessly. It was all making your heart beat wildly.

Maybe it was the knowledge that he had booked a honeymoon suite at his hotel. Or maybe it was the simple fact that it had been weeks since you’d last seen him. Weeks of aching to be near him, to feel his hands on you.

Whatever it was, it had you shifting in place, pressing your thighs together in a feeble attempt to combat the dull throb building inside you.

Your relationship was still in its early stages, everything new and electric. Every little thing you learned about him made you giddy, eager to understand the way his mind worked. And it was always the casual things that stuck with you. How he liked his tea absurdly strong, the way he mumbled lyrics under his breath even when a song wasn’t playing, the fact that despite his tough exterior, he always needed to be touching you in some way. A hand on your knee. Fingers brushing your wrist. His leg pressed against yours beneath a table. It had all made you fall even harder.

Those moments had quickly become the ones you craved the most. But with him on tour, you rarely got a second alone with him, and the yearning was starting to consume you. 

The crowd erupted into cheers, jolting you from your daze. Noel was in the middle of a solo, fingers gliding over the fretboard in a way that was damn near indecent. The way he bent the strings, the deft flick of his wrist, it was mesmerizing. Then, as he reached the crescendo, he thrust his hips into his guitar, head tipping back, lost in the music. 

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to look away before your thoughts could spiral any further.

The rest of the show was torturous. You only got more and more worked up, eyes drinking in his movements. But it gave you time to plan exactly what you were going to do to him later. You bit your lip, excitement building inside you. 

Finally, finally, the last note rang out, the applause thundered through the venue, and then his attention was back on you. Noel wiped the sweat from his face, handed off his guitar, and strode toward you, a wide grin breaking across his lips. Just the weight of his gaze on you made your heart stutter.

You threw your arms around him, capturing his mouth in a quick, heated kiss. His skin was feverish beneath your touch, and he tasted like sweat and beer. It should've been unappealing, but something about it only made you want him more.

He smiled against your lips before pulling back. “Good to see you too,” he teased, voice a bit rough from singing. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, but you tried to hide it.

God, you’d missed being this close to him. Missed taking in every little detail of his face. You wanted to run your hands over every one of your favorite features, but instead you settled for pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

“Just missed you, s’all,” you murmured, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

All those thoughts you’d had while watching him…it was hard to restrain yourself now that he was right there in front of you. The ache low in your stomach had only grown more persistent. You felt a bit like a teenager again, uncontrollable urges threatening to overwhelm you.

You hoped you weren’t being too much. Your pure need, almost an addiction to him, was something you were worried might scare him off this early on.

Noel draped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. His lips brushed the top of your head as he whispered, “Missed you too,” before leading you toward the dressing room.

Your body lit up at his words, at his touch. The warmth of his palm against your hip, the ghost of his breath near your ear, the steady weight of his arm grounding you. It was all driving you crazy.

Inside, the room buzzed with conversation and laughter, but it all felt distant. Just background noise to the singular focus consuming your thoughts. A beer was pressed into your hand, and you took a sip out of habit, but your mind was elsewhere. On him. All you wanted to do was slide into his lap, bury your face in his neck, and lick the sweat from his skin.

Your foot slid around his, hooking your ankle around his in a silent tether. His hand on your shoulder tightened slightly in response, a quiet acknowledgment, though he continued his conversation. You took long swigs of beer, hoping it might quell the desperate urge to jump his bones right then and there.

It wasn’t until he turned to you, one brow quirked, that you realized just how lost you’d become in your own desire.

“What?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice.

You blinked. “What what?”

His lips curved into a knowing smirk. “You keep rubbing your foot up my leg,” he murmured, voice pitched low. “You tryin’ to play footsie or something?”

You hadn’t even been conscious of the action. You huffed a laugh, trying to downplay it, but his gaze held on you, searching. You could see the exact moment he figured it out. The heat in your eyes, the tension in your body. It was all over your face. You only hoped no one else had noticed.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the playfulness in his eyes darkening into something else. For a moment, the two of you were locked in your own world, until someone called Noel’s name, asking if he was coming out with them.

“Nah,” he said smoothly, never once breaking eye contact. “Think we’re gonna call it a night.”

Your stomach flipped, silently thanking him for being so intuitive. His hand dipped lower on your waist, fingers pressing into your side, drinking in the shiver that ran through you. 

He tipped back the rest of his beer in one last gulp before slamming the empty bottle onto the table, the sound jolting you from your daze. Then, without a word, he stood and extended a hand toward you.

Slipping your fingers into his, you let him pull you up, stumbling slightly as your body met his. He steadied you effortlessly, his grip firm and warm. His mouth twitched with amusement.

“Easy, love,” he murmured.

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering. Every little thing he did sent a fresh wave of need coursing through you. The way he was looking at you, the quiet intensity, the heat simmering just beneath the surface, it made your breath hitch.

You knew exactly where this night was headed.

And you couldn’t wait.

The ride back to the hotel was unbearable in the best possible way. Noel’s hand rested firmly on your knee, fingers flexing periodically. Neither of you spoke, but the tension in the air was palpable. Your body was thrumming with need, every nerve on high alert.

You wanted to worship him. To lavish him with attention. To taste the sweat on his skin. To choke on his thick—

“Here,” the driver announced, snapping you from your thoughts.

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you turned to Noel, only to find him already watching you, that same dark, knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

The door to your room had barely clicked shut before he was on you.

You hardly had time to gasp before your back hit the wall, his body pressing flush against you, mouth crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. It was all teeth and desperation, the exact kind of kiss you had been aching for.

You met him with equal fervor, weeks of longing igniting between you like a lit fuse. Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp as your tongue slid against his.

“Missed you so much,” he muttered against your lips, voice rough with want, hands already creeping beneath your shirt. “You have no idea.”

His mouth trailed lower, teeth grazing your jaw before finding a sensitive spot on your neck. He sucked softly before nipping, drawing a quiet moan from you. His hands roamed higher beneath your top, gripping whatever they could. 

“Every night I’d lie awake,” he murmured, his lips hot against your skin, “thinking of everything I wanted to do to you. All the things I wanted to be doing instead of sleeping.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, heat pooling in your stomach at the image. His mouth moved lower still, sucking a spot just above your collarbone, the scrape of his teeth making you shiver.

“I-I was doing the same,” you admitted, breathless.

That caught his attention. His head lifted, gaze locking onto yours, dark with intrigue. “Were you now?” He pressed closer, hips pinning you against the wall. “And what exactly was it you were thinking about, hm?” he asked, his voice low.

You felt exposed under the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his scrutiny making you hesitate. The truth sat heavy on your tongue, your pulse hammering, but there was no use hiding it now.

“You,” you finally exhaled, voice barely more than a whisper. “Your hands. The way you touch me. The sounds you make. The way you fuck me.” Your breath caught as you admitted it, a heat rising in your cheeks. “Got off on it so many times.”

Noel let out a low groan, his breath faltering as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. The warmth of him sent a shiver down your spine.

“Is that so?” His voice was rough, thick with arousal.

You nodded breathlessly, suddenly feeling a bit shy about your admission. But he wasn’t going to let you hide. He nipped at your earlobe, his own breath hitching.

“How many times, love?”

Your stomach tightened, the weight of the question pressing into you. You could’ve lied, downplayed it, but the heat in his voice, the way his fingers twitched against your skin, had you answering honestly.

“Enough to make my wrist sore.”

A rough, disbelieving chuckle rumbled through his chest, his fingers flexing against your waist as if the thought alone had wrecked him.

His hand drifted lower, teasing along the waistband of your jeans. One of his thighs slotted between yours, pressing against you just right, sending a spark of pleasure jolting through you.

“And what exactly were you picturing, hm?” His voice was low, coaxing, but there was an edge to it. Like he needed to hear it.

The way he was reacting to your words was emboldening you. You rocked against his thigh, fingers gripping at his shoulders, holding onto him as you let the words spill from your lips.

“You walking in and finding me,” you admitted. “You’d show me how it’s really done. Fuck me nice and rough until I can’t take it anymore.”

His breath stuttered, but you weren’t done.

“The way your face looks when you’re right on the edge…” You bit your lip, a slow smile playing there. “You look a bit like that on stage, actually. It’s pornographic, really.”

His forehead dropped onto your shoulder with a quiet curse. His fingers dug into your hips before releasing. After a moment, he lifted his head, gaze dark and lidded.

“Is that really what goes through your head when you watch me play?”

You hummed, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Yeah. Nearly thought I’d have to change my underwear before you even finished playing.”

“And to think I never noticed,” he mused.

A slow grin pulled at your lips. “Don’t play dumb with me,” you teased. “You look like you’re fucking your guitar up there, you slag.”

That made him bark out a laugh, head tipping back slightly. “Oi, leave my guitar out of this,” he shot back, hands tightening on your hips, thumbs tracing slow circles against the sliver of bare skin exposed beneath your shirt.

You only smirked and silenced him with another kiss, pressing into him as you began guiding him toward the bed, fingers working at the buttons of his jacket. When the backs of his knees hit the mattress, he sat, pulling you with him, hands firm as he guided you onto his lap.

Your arms wound around his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you pressed yourself against him, rolling your hips slightly. You’d missed feeling his touch against your skin, the weight of his hands claiming you, the solid feel of him. Your mind was whirring with lust and the satisfaction of having him all to yourself again. 

Your mouth left his, trailing along his jaw, down his neck, tongue darting out to taste the faint salt of sweat lingering on his skin. You greedily lapped it up, continuing your path downward until you reached the spot near the base of his neck that you knew made him weak.

Noel groaned, his fingers flexing against your thighs, gripping you tighter as your hands roamed his back. You could feel the subtle flex of his muscles beneath your touch, the tension coiling in him.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he rasped, voice thick.

You hummed in response, one hand snaking down to fumble with his belt, desperate to rid him of his clothes. He chuckled, clearly amused by your eagerness. He lifted his hips slightly, helping you along as you stripped him of his jeans and shirt, his fingers ghosting over your skin in the process. 

When you pulled back to look at him, your gaze dragged over his body before settling on the obvious strain in his boxers. Your hands skimmed over his thighs, nails scratching lightly as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him.

He groaned softly, body arching into your touch. He watched you with dark, hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling unevenly as your fingertips trailed up his inner thighs, muscles tensing under your touch.

You pressed a soft kiss to his knee before resting your chin on it, looking up at him through your lashes. “Been thinkin’ about this since you left,” you said.

Noel spread his legs slightly, shifting to the edge of the bed as you moved between them, your lips brushing against his skin as you worked your way up. His breath hitched, his body shivering under your touch.

“Yeah?” he rasped, voice thick with want.

You hummed, fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers. “Hard for me not to drop to my knees right there in the dressing room.”

A soft, broken groan slipped from his lips, hips lifting involuntarily. He was already so worked up, straining against the fabric, and you could feel the heat of him even through the material.

His fingers tangled in your hair, the grip tight but not demanding. More like he needed something to hold onto.

You loved seeing him like this. There was already a fire burning through you just at the prospect of getting your mouth on him. He looked fucking devastating like this. Head tipped back slightly, breathing uneven, eyes heavy lidded and dark with hunger.

Your palm pressed over the thick strain in his boxers, and a deep, shuddering groan tore from his throat. His hips jerked into your touch, his fingers twisting in your hair, his entire body responding like he had no control over it.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice wrecked, breathless. Christ, he already sounded ruined, and you hadn’t even started.

A slow smirk curled at your lips as you wrapped your fingers around him through the fabric, squeezing lightly. The whimper that left him sent heat pooling between your thighs. He was already so desperate for you, his chest rising and falling with each uneven breath, his grip in your hair tightening.

Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, you dragged them down with agonizing slowness, savoring the way his breath hitched, the way his hips lifted to help you. When you finally pulled them off completely, you discarded them without care, your focus entirely on the sight before you.

“Look at what you do to me,” he babbled. “Look at what you’ve fucking done.”

His words sent a fresh wave of desire crashing over you. You loved the effect you had on him, loved seeing him this desperate all because of you. 

Your lips parted slightly as you took him in, gaze raking over the way he throbbed, flushed such a pretty shade of pink, practically begging to be kissed.

You shifted closer, your hand wrapping around him, relishing the way his breath stuttered, the way he tensed under your touch. Keeping your eyes locked onto his, you leaned in, flicking your tongue lightly over the sensitive tip, tasting the faint saltiness of him.

A strangled moan escaped him, his grip in your hair tightening into a makeshift ponytail. He fought to keep his eyes on you, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice shaky. 

You pulled back just enough to grin up at him. “So pretty,” you murmured, before wrapping your lips fully around the head of his cock, sucking gently.

He let out a soft whine, his hips reflectively bucking into your mouth, chasing the heat. “God, love…” he panted out, his eyes fluttering shut as he let the pleasure overtake him. 

The familiar weight of him on your tongue, the heat of him, the taste. It sent a shiver up your spine. You moaned softly as you took him deeper, letting your tongue swirl around him, savoring every reaction.

He groaned loudly, his stomach tensing. “Jesus, you feel so fucking good…”

You dragged your tongue along the thick vein running beneath him, pausing to flick your tongue against that one spot that always drove him crazy.

The sound he let out was pure desperation.

“M’not gonna last long if you keep that up,” he admitted, voice rough and trembling.

You hummed around him, letting the vibrations travel through him, making his whole body jerk. “Don’t care,” you murmured between slow strokes of your tongue. “Wanna taste you.”

Determined now, you took him deeper, bobbing your head, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach. Noel let out a low, wrecked moan, his thighs trembling beneath your touch. You could feel him losing control, could see it in the way his stomach tensed, the way his breath stuttered with every flick of your tongue.

One of your hands moved lower, gently cupping and rolling his balls in the way you knew he loved. His reaction was immediate. His hips bucked, a loud, broken moan tearing from his lips. His eyes were screwed up in pleasure. The sounds spilling from his lips were downright sinful. Moans and curses, desperate gasps, it was all fueling the fire deep within you.

“Fucking hell,” he choked out.

He was close. You could feel it in the way he was twitching, his thighs shaking. You swirled your tongue around him, hollowing your cheeks and increasing the pace of your hand, eager to taste him. 

His body was writhing now, his breathing stuttering as he teetered on the edge of release. He was muttering incoherently, his words a tangled mess of curses and pleading. 

“I—fuck—I’m gonna—” He didn’t finish the sentence, just let out a strangled groan as his whole body went taut. His head fell back, mouth open in a silent cry as pleasure ripped through him, his fingers clenching in your hair as he came, hard.

You didn’t let up, swallowing him down, drawing every last drop from him, watching the way his body shuddered, utterly wrecked. His face was breathtaking, his brows furrowed, lips parted, completely lost in bliss. Some distant part of your mind made a note to tease him later about how similar his guitar face was to this. 

A weak moan escaped him as you finally let him slip from your mouth, licking your lips in satisfaction.

Noel looked utterly shattered. His chest heaved, his body still trembling as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes were hazy, still dark with lingering desire as he gazed down at you. 

“Jesus…” he muttered, his breath still coming in ragged pants. “That was…that was…”

You just smiled, pressing a final, gentle kiss to his oversensitive tip.

He let out a weak whimper, his fingers twitching in your hair before they slid down to cradle your face.

Suddenly he hauled you up, pulling you to stand between his legs. His arms wrapped around your back, holding you close, chin tipping up so he could look at you properly. His fingers moved in slow, lazy circles against your lower back, sending tiny sparks through you as his breathing finally began to steady.

Then a slow smirk began to creep across his face. 

You arched a brow. “What’s that look for?”

“Well…” His voice dipped, rough and teasing. “Now that I’ve gotten mine…” His words trailed off, thick with suggestion.

Your heart stuttered as he pressed soft, open mouthed kisses against your stomach, his hands slipping beneath your shirt, pushing the fabric higher as he went. His lips were warm, his breath hot against your skin, and your thoughts were already starting to blur at the edges.

“What do you mean?” you muttered distractedly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continued his slow descent.

He paused just below your navel, the tip of his nose grazing your skin as he tilted his head back slightly, his chin resting against your stomach. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, amusement dancing in them.

“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’?”

You blinked, following the lingering heat of his kisses, how they were drifting lower and lower.

Your cheeks burned as the pieces clicked into place. “Oh.”

Noel’s smirk deepened, voice nothing short of smug. “Oh.”

You shifted slightly, feeling suddenly flustered. “You don’t have to.”

His expression faltered, amusement replaced by something closer to confusion. “What do you mean I don't have to?”

You hesitated, suddenly feeling uncertain. It hadn’t really come up before now. “I mean—you don’t have to do that. I’m fine with just… your fingers.”

For the first time tonight, he actually looked taken aback. “What?” he repeated, this time more incredulous. “Do you not like it?”

You let out a small, nervous laugh. “No, I—” You bit your lip, struggling to find the right words. “I just… I know men don't like doing that.”

Noel scoffed, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “Who the fuck told you that?”

You gave a half hearted shrug. “It’s just something I’ve always heard. That men don’t like it. That it’s more of a chore.” You were starting to feel unsure of yourself now.

He blinked at you, then outright laughed. “Well whoever you heard that from has been shagging some right fucking idiots, ‘cause that’s absolute bollocks.”

You frowned slightly, processing his words. You thought back to past relationships. Boyfriends who had never offered, who had never even acted as if it was an option. You’d always assumed that was normal. That it was just one of those things men weren’t interested in.

But the way Noel was looking at you now… it was clear he thought otherwise.

Then something shifted in his expression. His lips parted slightly, realization dawning.

“Wait… don’t tell me you’ve never—” He trailed off, his voice dropping into something softer.

Your face burned, heat rushing to your ears as you averted your gaze.

“No…” he breathed, his tone laced with disbelief. “No one’s ever gone down on you? Are you serious?”

You shifted on your feet, feeling embarrassed under the weight of his gaze. “Not… properly, no.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he genuinely couldn’t comprehend what you’d just admitted. But then his expression shifted again, his mouth curving into a slow, knowing smirk.

“Well, love… whoever’s been lying to you isn’t a real man,” he murmured, his voice low and heavy with intent. “Cause I fucking love it.”

Your gaze snapped back to him and the mental image of Noel between your thighs hit you all at once. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat surging through you. You’d never thought about it before, not really. But now, with the way he was looking at you, the way his fingers traced slow, teasing patterns against your skin, the way his lips lingered just a little too long on your stomach…

You wanted it.

As if sensing the shift in your thoughts, his expression softened, his voice dipping into something more intimate. “Well…” He pressed another lingering kiss just above the waistband of your jeans. “If you’ll have me, I’d be honored to be your first.”

A shiver ran through you, your skin prickling at his words. 

His kisses resumed their descent, his lips dragging along your skin, his breath hot and teasing. Your mind was spinning, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment, by the way he looked at you like he wanted to worship every inch of you. There was no space for doubt now, no hesitation. Just the undeniable, burning need for him.

Your lips parted, breath unsteady as he reached for the hem of your shirt, fingers grazing your sides.

“You are gonna let me, yeah?” His voice was quiet but firm, a subtle edge of command beneath the softness.

You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming as you flicked your gaze down to his lips. The thought of them on you made your knees weak.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

Something dark and pleased flickered in his eyes. “Good.”

With that, he pushed your shirt up and over your head. His fingers were already working at the button of your jeans before the fabric had even hit the floor.

“Gonna make it the best thing you’ve ever felt,” he murmured against your stomach, pressing another open mouthed kiss just below your navel.

“Gonna make you come so fucking hard.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His words alone sent another rush of heat flooding through you.

Noel pulled back slightly, his gaze raking over you. His hands moved to your hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans as he slowly began to drag them down.

You felt bare. Not just in the physical sense, but in the way his eyes took you in, in the way his hands moved over your body like he already knew every inch of it. It sent a thrill through you. This feeling of being seen, truly seen, and knowing without a doubt that he wanted you.

Your pulse thundered in your ears as he settled lower, his lips brushing over your hip, his breath sending warm shivers across your skin.

His gaze flickered up, eyes dark with want. “Look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with desire. “So fucking gorgeous.”

A soft whimper escaped you as he dragged a thumb over your clothed clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. Your hips twitched in response, and his smirk only deepened, clearly pleased with your reaction.

“Lay down for me, love,” he instructed.

You obeyed, settling back against the pillows as he adjusted you just the way he wanted, positioning your legs at the edge of the bed. His hands pressed gently against your thighs to part them.

“Just relax,” he whispered, his palms smoothing over your skin in slow, soothing strokes. “Wanna make this perfect for you.”

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest as you let yourself sink into the mattress, anticipation curling hot and tight in your stomach. His eyes roamed over you, dark and burning with hunger.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he muttered appreciatively. “All laid out for me.”

Something about the way he said it made you shiver. You had never seen him like this before. So ravenous, so utterly focused on you.

He crawled back up, capturing your lips in a slow kiss, his body pressing into yours. His touch was gentle as he slid off your bra, his lips never leaving yours. A gasp slipped from you as he trailed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, lingering at all your weak spots.

And then his mouth moved lower.

Your breath hitched as his lips wrapped around a nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. A small noise escaped you, your back arching into the warmth of his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction, teasing and coaxing pleasure from you. 

He lavished attention onto your other breast, his lips and tongue teasing you relentlessly until you were panting and squirming beneath him. His hands roamed lower, slipping over the thin fabric of your underwear, his fingers pressing slow circles against your clit.

Between his lips and hands, it was almost too much. Your hips bucked instinctively, seeking more, but he only chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your desperation.

When his mouth finally released you, he continued his descent, each touch more electrifying than the last. Then he sank to his knees, settling between your legs.

Your breath stuttered. You felt the warmth of his breath against you, sending your nerves into overdrive. His hands rested on your knees, parting them further as he drank in the sight of you.

Slowly, he peeled your underwear down, the last barrier between you gone in an instant. The air felt cool against your skin, the exposure making you shiver.

His gaze flicked up to you, dark and filled with need. Then, gently, he hooked your legs over his shoulders, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin.

Your entire body tensed, nerves lighting up beneath his touch. You had no idea what to expect, only that you needed him. Desperately.

He pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips warm, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. He inhaled deeply, taking in your scent, before murmuring, “Relax, love”

You tried to calm your racing pulse, but it was no use. He was so close, his breath ghosting over you, tickling every nerve. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered before finally pressing his mouth against you. 

A sharp, broken moan tore from your throat. 

It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. The heat of him, the softness of his lips. It was intoxicating. He licked a slow stripe up your center, sending shockwaves through your body, your back arching in response.

And then he began to suck. 

A rush of pleasure crashed into you, your fingers twisting into the sheets as his tongue worked against you with almost devastating precision.

“Fuck, Noel,” you gasped.

He groaned against you in response, the vibration sending another ripple of bliss rolling through you. His hands tightened on your hips, holding you in place as he buried himself between your thighs, his tongue flicking and teasing in ways that made your head spin.

It was almost too much. Almost.

He pulled back after a few minutes, letting you catch your breath. His lips trailed soft kisses along your thigh, his fingers stroking soothing patterns against your skin.

“Good?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You let out a breathless laugh, throwing an arm over your eyes. It was such a ridiculous question considering the state you were in.

“Hey, look at me,” he said softly. 

Blinking up at him, you propped yourself on your elbows. The sight of him nearly undid you all over again. His lips and chin were slick, his pupils blown wide, his chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. He looked utterly wrecked, and the knowledge that he was enjoying this as much as you sent another pulse of heat through you.

He reached up, threading his fingers through yours, giving your hand a soft squeeze as if to coax an answer out of you. 

You exhaled shakily. “Yeah,” you breathed. “So good.”

His smirk deepened before he dipped his head once more, never letting go of your hand.

This time, his tongue teased lower, dragging over sensitive nerves with agonizing patience. You barely had time to process the sensation before he pressed his tongue inside of you.

A choked moan tore from your lips.

Your entire body clenched around him, the feeling almost too intense, too much. His tongue licked into you deeply, exploring, savoring. The sensation was maddening, unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

“Noel—christ,” you panted, barely able to form words.

He hummed against you, the vibration sending another shudder rolling through your body. He was relentless, his tongue working you open, his fingers still laced with yours, grounding you as pleasure threatened to consume you whole.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groaned against you, his voice thick with hunger. “Can’t believe I’ve never had you like this before.”

A fresh wave of heat surged through you, your hips rolling up to meet his mouth, seeking more.

He moved back up to your clit, sucking fiercely, drawing a high pitched whimper from you as your thighs instinctively tried to close around him. He only groaned in response, his spare hand gripping your hip to hold you in place as he redoubled his efforts.

The pleasure was dizzying. Mind blowing. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but him, the way he was unraveling you with every flick of his tongue.

“Noel,” you moaned, your own voice sounding foreign to your ears. “Please, I-I..I’m gonna—” your words dissolved into a high pitched whimper. The sensations were overwhelming, like your body couldn’t keep up with the pleasure. Your mind was a blur, and you were teetering right on the edge. Every muscle was tensed, your whole being coiled tight. 

“Oh, god—I’m so close, please—” and with one last flick of his tongue, you shattered.

Your back arched, a cry spilling from your lips as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. It was euphoric. And it didn’t stop. It went on and on, the pleasure drawn out until you thought you might fall apart completely.

You had no control over yourself but Noel held you steady, his mouth never leaving you as he guided you through it.

Your body trembled, pleasure still rippling through you in soft, lingering waves as you came down. You felt raw, exposed, completely undone in the best possible way. 

He pulled back, breathless, swiping the back of his hand across his glistening lips as he looked up at you.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, voice thick with reverence, like he was savoring the sight of you in your blissed out haze.

He slowly released your hand, his fingers tracing one last soft stroke over your palm before easing your legs from his shoulders. Your chest was still heaving, eyes shut tightly as you tried to control your breathing after what might have been the most intense orgasm of your life. 

Gentle, soothing circles smoothed over your heated skin. His touch was so tender, so patient, as if he could feel the aftershocks still wracking your body. Your mind was hazy, cottony, thoughts tangled and slow.

Then, his voice came, soft and teasing, full of something achingly tender.

“You alright up there?”

You huffed out a breathless laugh, still trying to steady yourself. “Yeah,” you rasped. “That was...” You trailed off, shaking your head, still unable to find the words. “I don’t even know how to describe that.”

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest as he rose to lay beside you. He brushed a damp strand of hair from your face, stroking gently. His expression softened, his gaze warm.

“You did so good,” he whispered.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, languid kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue, and it should’ve been too much, should’ve been something to shy away from. Instead it was intoxicating. Intimate in a way you hadn’t expected.

A new rush of warmth settled in you, your body stirring despite the bliss he’d already wrung from you.

You exhaled against his lips. “I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this.”

He smirked, the curve of his mouth smug as he pressed another kiss to your lips. “Neither can I,” he said. “But don’t worry love. I fully intend to make up for it.”

Your breath hitched as you felt him against you, the press of him hardening once more. A slow, knowing smile tugged at your lips as you glanced down, amusement flashing in your eyes.

“Already?”

A huff of laughter left him as he followed your gaze, then met your eyes again, his own dark with intent. “I told you, I fucking love it,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “And I’m not quite done with you yet.”

You swallowed, your smile turning coy. “Good,” you whispered, dragging your fingers up his chest. “Because I’m not nearly done with you either.”

His grin widened, something playful gleaming in his gaze. His hand trailed up your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“No?” he mused, tilting his head.

You shook your head, cupping his face. Your thumb traced the curve of his brow, your gaze drinking him in, memorizing every detail. The warmth of your touch made his eyes flutter shut for a moment, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.

Then, before you could stop yourself, you whispered, “Don’t leave me again.”

His eyes opened at that, his expression shifting, something passing between you. His fingers curled around your hand, lifting it to press a kiss to your knuckles. He lingered there, lips brushing against you.

“How about you don’t leave me,” he murmured against your hand.

Your breath caught. You barely had time to process his words before he continued, his voice steady, sure. “Stay on tour with me.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “Are you serious?”

His lips quirked into a soft smirk, but there was no teasing in his gaze. “Of course I’m serious.”

A small crease formed between your brows. “That wouldn’t be too… I don’t know, overbearing of me?”

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I think I’ve made it pretty clear how much I wished you were with me over the past few weeks.”

“Really? It wouldn’t be a bother?”

His expression shifted into something softer, something almost incredulous, like he couldn’t believe you were even asking. “If anyone's bothered by you then they can fuck right off.”

That made you laugh, and warmth bloomed in your chest. You had wanted this. To go with him, to be where he was, but you hadn’t wanted to ask. Hadn’t wanted to seem too much. But here he was, handing it to you without hesitation.

“Then yes,” you breathed, barely able to contain your smile. “Absolutely yes.”

You pulled him in, pressing frantic kisses to his face, unable to hide the sheer joy bubbling up inside you.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, grasping your head to still you.

You grinned at him, feeling like you might burst from the happiness thrumming in your veins. This felt like a turning point, something unspoken clicking into place. No longer did you have to think about leaving. No longer did you have to brace for the ache of separation. You’d be with him.

And god, that felt like the only thing you wanted.

You giggled as he pulled you flush against him, tangling his limbs with yours, pressing you back into the mattress with a low hum. His body was warm, solid, the weight of him anchoring you in this moment.

Your smile softened as you gazed up at him, nothing but pure contentment filling your chest. His eyes gleamed with something. Something deeper than words.

And somewhere, tucked away in the back of your mind, you realized you just might be falling in love with him.

And the way he was looking at you made you think he might be feeling the same.

[writemekpop]

Best Enemies | Huang Renjun

Summary: Renjun makes your life a living hell - but you can't keep your hands off him.

Genre: Enemies to lovers, High school AU, Jock!Renjun

Word count: <1k

As soon as Renjun’s hand shot up in the air, you knew you were in trouble.

“Sir,” he said, “I can’t focus.” His eyes slid towards you. “Y/n keeps… trying to touch my leg with her foot.”

A groan spread through the class, and you heard the words ‘class slut’ pass through people’s lips.

“Come on, sir” you said dryly. “You and I both know not to believe anything Renjun says."

“Look… I know you have a thing for me, but this is taking it too far,” Renjun sighs, his eyes crinkling in the faintest smile.

Everything from his hair gel to the football jersey he wore even when he wasn't exercising sweated smugness.

“I wouldn’t touch that with a ten foot pole,” you muttered, so only Renjun could hear.

The teacher told everyone to get back to their work - but you weren’t finished.

The second Renjun turned back to his work, you slid off your chair, making a loud crash as it hit the ground.

“Hey! What the hell?” you cried, looking at Renjun with shock on your face. “I’m sorry, okay, but there’s no need to be violent!”

Bright red started spreading from the roots of Renjun’s hair down his face. “I didn’t - sir!”

The teacher told him sternly to be quiet, which you loved.

It was silent.

The battle was over.

Finally, you thought, Renjun would leave you alone.

Until, just a few minutes before the end of class, you heard his stupid voice sing out over the classroom.

“Can you just stop?” he said.

Your eyes narrowed. You didn’t have much in the way of popularity to lose, but you loved Maths, and you had annoyed your teacher enough already.

“Oh no… what have I done?” you said in a monotone.

“I will not…” Renjun started, his whole face swelling with glee, “sign your bra!”

You had no idea when you lost your temper. Suddenly, you were bunching the thin fabric of Renjun’s jersey in your fists. You were forcing his body back against the desk.

He grabbed you back, almost lifting you up with his strength.

You felt a flicker of fear. Renjun was stronger than you’d expected. You were almost ready to accept defeat.

That was when the strangest thing happened. You felt a jolt of energy run through you, and suddenly, you had the upper hand.

It was exhilarating to have his body in your hands, to be able to crush him the way you constantly fantasised about. You had power over him, and it was excellent. Although your arms were burning, you felt like laughing.

“You’re so done!” Renjun growled in your ear.

---

“We’re so done,” you groaned, as you slid onto the floor of the sports supply closet. The room was a mess. You moved a cricket ball out from under your butt.

“Look, it's your fault we're in detention,” Renjun snapped, dribbling a ball across the floor.

“Are you kidding?” you said. “You were the one who called the teacher in the first place!”

Renjun slid onto the floor next to you. You stiffened, but he made no move to hurt you.

You tried to ignore how much you wanted to fight Renjun again, to feel his muscles straining to resist you. His body was so close.

“Why are you sitting down?” you snapped. “One of us has to clean the damn place, and it isn’t gonna be me.”

“Well, it’s sure as hell not gonna be me,” Renjun said.

You glared at each other.

Then, you remembered something, and reached into your pocket.

“Let’s flip a coin,” you said. “If you lose, Renjun, you have to clean up everything.”

Renjun added, his eyes glinting sharply, “And if you lose, Y/n, you have to clean up everything… and kiss me.”

Blood forced its way through your arteries, making them swell painfully.

Up went the coin, time slowing as it glinted in the electric light, and as it fell, Renjun called, “Heads!”

You flipped the coin onto your wrist.

Heads.

“I guess I have to clean up now,” you said, a smirk spreading over your face.

“And?” Renjun said.

You pushed him onto the ground, straddling him with your legs. Your hair fell over his face.

“And…” you whispered, as you leaned down towards him. “I have to kiss you.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

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[hwangjoanna]

‘The Collector’

Haunted House AU | Dark Romance | Hyunjin/Dominant Immortal X Reader/Willing Human | Gothic Horror | Slow-burn Possession | Cursed Immortality | Soft Obsession | Erotic Ruin

When Y/N inherits a crumbling old estate from a great-aunt she barely knew, she discovers dozens of portraits in the attic. Each depicting the same impossibly beautiful man. As she begins to uncover her aunt’s obsession, Y/N starts to dream of him too. Whispered words. Eyes in mirrors. The sensation of being watched.

Hyunjin is everything the paintings promised. Elegant, possessive, devastating. He’s not a ghost. Not quite human. He’s something else. Something that feeds not on blood, but on devotion. Surrender.

As Y/N falls deeper under his spell, the house becomes a trap. The paintings breathe. Time unravels and love begins to taste like ruin.

Word count - 13k (both parts)

Warnings - MDNI 18+, Horror themes, Mentions of death, Nightmares, Dreams, Smut, Mean Dom Hyunjin/Sub Reader, Power dynamics, Orgasm denial, Petnames - darling, little thing, Hyunjin is mean, possessive but also loving, Reader is an absolute simp, Hyunjin likes reader to say ‘she belongs to him’ repetitively.

A/N - This is my apology for how long it’s taking me to write my squid game au fic, I appreciate all of your patience. This idea popped into my head a few days ago and I just had to write it. Don’t worry the next chapter of ‘Red Light, Green Light’ is almost ready! I know this isn’t on my teaser list but the idea came so I ran with it. The other fics in the teasers are also in the works, plus I have some surprise fics on their way too. ;) I hope you enjoy this little one shot about our lovely Hyunjin. For this fic I wanted Y/n to be extremely receptive to him, not anything like she is in my other fic. So apologies if you’re not a fan of a simp y/n.

^ The song above is the song that plays in the house and the one the reader sings to herself. Just imagine it a little slower, played on a vintage phonograph.

━━━━━━━━━━☽༓☾━━━━━━━━━━━━

September 1995

The key sticks in the lock as you turn it, your fingers trembling from the cold. The door finally groans open, revealing the dim interior of the old house your great-aunt left you. Dust coats every surface, thick as frost. The air is musty, tinged with something sweet and decaying, like old roses rotting beneath floorboards.

The house is a Victorian mansion just north of Maine, it towers over a small town in the hills and the forests.

You don’t remember her. No one really does. Your great aunt, Elena. They said she’d been strange, a recluse who spoke to paintings and locked her doors, mail left in the mailbox for weeks on end. But now her house is yours, she’d given it to you in her will, randomly so you thought. Every creaking wall and faded floorboard. You tell yourself it’s just a place. That you’ll stay long enough to sort through her things, sell what you can, and leave.

You spend your first day trying to sort out some form of internet, maybe get the electrics going and unpacking the groceries you’d bought to tide you over for the month. You liked to be prepared, even if it seemed over the top.

After calling an electrician, you soon found that the house would ultimately need to be rewired. Something you hadn’t really factored in but you accepted it nonetheless. They couldn’t book it in for you until January, and it was currently September. Great. You enquired at a few places but all said the same thing. ‘It’s a small town, we can’t do everything at the same time.’

You admit defeat, you can always check into a local hotel if it gets too much. You continue to explore the house, the peeling damask wallpaper, the loose floorboards and you find your aunts' old diaries scattered in random cabinets and drawers. You make a mental note to give them a read later, you’d need some entertainment, with no TV or any of your true crime books.

But then you find the attic.

It’s behind a narrow door at the end of the hallway, hidden behind an old armoire you push aside on instinct. Dust explodes into the air. The moment you touch the attic handle, your skin prickles, as if someone were watching. As if something were waiting.

You open it anyway. Using your full side profile with a push to get into it, the hinges are stiff and rusted. The door finally swings and you step inside. The attic is vast, the roof slanted and beams exposed. Covered furniture sits like forgotten monuments under yellowed sheets. But it’s the far wall that draws your attention. Portraits. Dozens of them.

All of the same man.

Different poses, different styles some oil, watercolour, charcoal but always him. His face is elegant, hauntingly beautiful. Long dark hair. A sculpted mouth. Eyes that seem to look through the canvas, through time. Even when painted in abstract, his features are unmistakable. There’s something intimate about them, something… wrong.

You don’t know why your chest tightens.

One painting in particular pulls you closer. It’s larger than the rest, nearly life-sized. He’s lying back on a velvet chaise, white shirt half-unbuttoned, gaze directed outward but it’s the expression that gets to you, amusement laced with sorrow. Like he knows something you don’t. Like he’s waiting.

You reach out. Your fingertips hover just above the surface.

And that’s when you hear it.

A whisper.

So faint, it might be the house settling. Or wind against the roof. But it sounds like your name.

“…Y/N…”

You snatch your hand back, pulse thudding.

You’re alone.

A beat of silence.

Then a soft creak, wood shifting under weight.m but the attic is still. You turn, eyes searching the corners, breath caught halfway between fear and something else. Curiosity. Something more dangerous.

You look back at the painting.

The man’s eyes are different now.

Wider.

Focused.

On you.

━━━━━━━━━━☽༓☾━━━━━━━━━━━━

You don’t sleep in the bedroom upstairs. Not yet, the bed is dusty and old. You haven’t bothered to put your new bedding on there yet. Staring at all the paintings earlier you had lost track of time and suddenly night fell.

You settle instead on the worn velvet sofa in the sitting room. It smells like mothballs and fire ash, but at least it feels less haunted than the rest of the house. You light a single candle, since there’s no electricity yet and the flame flickers violently, like it resents being brought here.

Outside, the wind claws at the single-glazed windows, and the trees cast shifting shadows across the faded wallpaper.

You should feel tired, but your body refuses to rest. The house is too quiet. Not peaceful. Watchful.

You reach onto the coffee table where the stack of your aunts' journals sits and pull the old leather-bound book and place it on your lap, You still can’t stop thinking about the paintings. The journal, with your great-aunt’s name scrawled on the first page in ornate, spidery ink. You flip past yellowing pages until one entry catches your eye.

October 17th, 1989

He was in my dream again. The same eyes. The same mouth, painted in oil and silk and hunger. I awoke with the weight of him still on my chest, as though he had been there watching. Waiting.

I locked the attic but I still hear the frame creak when I sleep. I still feel the warmth in the paint.

He is beautiful. Terribly so.

You pause. A chill runs down your spine, not from the cold.

There’s another entry, dated two weeks later:

October 30th, 1989

I found the new canvas had moved. It was not where I left it. The brushstrokes on his lips have changed. More smirk than smile. The man is constant, but he is not still.

I should burn it but I cannot bear to.

You close the book and something groans above you.

The attic again.

You grip the blanket tighter around your shoulders. You tell yourself it’s just the wind… until you hear it again. A creak, deliberate. One slow footstep.

Your throat dries.

You glance toward the hallway. It’s swallowed by shadows.

Nothing moves and yet you see a flutter in your peripheral vision. Like something just stepped out of frame. You spin toward it. Just the bookshelf but when you cast your eyes down, a book has fallen to the floor.

You didn’t hear it fall and when you kneel to pick it up, your candle flickers violently once more and then, goes out.

You sit in the darkness for what feels like hours. Listening. The whisper never comes again but you feel it now.

That you’re not alone in the house.

You never were.

━━━━━━━━━━☽༓☾━━━━━━━━━━━━

You slept very little that night. If you slept at all.

By morning, the candle you relit is nothing but a puddle of wax, the journal is still open beside you. The entries haunt you more than the creaking floorboards or the way your breath fogs in certain corners of the house but not others. You blame your imagination. The cold. Your exhaustion.

You tell yourself you’ll spend the day cleaning.

Get a routine. A rhythm. Make the house feel more like yours.

So you begin in the hallway. The wallpaper there is stained and peeling at the corners, curling like old petals. You set to work stripping it away, humming softly to fill the silence. A song you’ve never heard but fills your head anyway. Beneath the paper, the walls are marked by time, water damage and faint cracks.

But then, you pause. Narrow your eyes.

There’s something carved into the plaster underneath. It’s deep, rough etchings in jagged lines. You pull more of the paper down, heart slowly sinking.

There it is, a name. Hyunjin.

You freeze.

It’s not written once. Not twice. It’s scratched into the wall over and over again, some deeper than others, some nearly illegible, as if whoever carved it kept repeating it until their fingers bled.

Hyunjin. Hyunjin. Hyunjin.

The name dances across the wall like a ritual, a plea, a curse.

You don’t know why, but your hands tremble as you touch one of the carvings. The edges are sharp. Still fresh, somehow.

You whisper the name out loud before you can stop yourself.

“Hyunjin.”

A gust of wind slams against the window down the hall. The floor creaks.

You spin around, but nothing’s there. It’s like the air shifts. Like someone just walked through the room. It’s breath on your neck. You back away from the wall slowly, the hairs rising on your arms. Your eyes catch something just before you turn fully.

Another mark.

A date, 1994 scratched in smaller letters below one of the names. Your stomach turns. Your aunt died in 1993.

You go back upstairs. You don’t want to, but you do. Like it’s calling to you.

The attic door is closed, but not locked. You open it again, candle in hand this time. The paintings are where you left them, except one.

The large portrait. The one you couldn’t stop looking at. It’s still there but something is different. There’s a new painting propped beside it, one you don’t remember seeing before.

It’s unfinished. The brushstrokes are broad, urgent, and messy.

It’s… a woman.

You.

Your face.

Painted in the corner of the canvas, as if just beginning to emerge from shadow. Your eyes are wide mirroring your own. Frightened and beside you, only half visible, him.

Long hair. A bare throat. That same gaze.

He’s reaching for you.

You don’t remember deciding to touch it.

One moment, you’re staring at the new, unfinished portrait. Your own half-formed face staring back at you in pale, ghostly brushstrokes and the next, your hands are gripping the heavy wooden frame of the larger painting. Your favourite.

The original one. Him.

The weight surprises you, solid and cold like stone. You manage to lift it, arms trembling slightly as you descend the attic stairs. The old wood groans beneath your steps, like it disapproves.

You bring him into the sitting room.

Place him gently above the fireplace, where a cracked mirror used to hang. The dustless patch on the wall is still there, like a ghost of what used to be. You prop the frame up, stepping back to examine your own absurdity.

He stares at you from the canvas.

The same expression. That faint smirk. That devastating gaze. You tell yourself it’s just a painting. Oil on canvas. You need it to be just that but the room feels warmer now. Not cosy, it’s something subtler. Like breath. Like body heat. The kind of warmth that fogs glass when you exhale against it.

You sit back on the couch, eyes never leaving his. The silence settles differently now, less empty. More attentive. You feel watched. You feel… kept.

“Hyunjin,” you whisper. Like you already know that’s his name. The ones carved into the wall.

The candle beside you flickers. You don’t sleep that night, either. You lie curled on the couch under a heavy blanket, staring at the fireless hearth beneath his portrait. Every time your eyelids grow heavy, a noise snaps them open, whispers behind the walls, footsteps upstairs, the soft drag of something across the floor. You think you hear your name. Once. Maybe twice.

By 3 a.m., you’re shivering, but your skin is damp. When you finally do fall asleep, it’s shallow, strange. You feel groggy. You dream of velvet and a white silk shirt. Of long fingers. Of a voice you almost recognise whispering in your ear.

“You brought me closer.”

━━━━━━━━━━☽༓☾━━━━━━━━━━━━

When you wake, the fire’s still dead, but the room feels too warm again. Sweat clings to your back, your skin flushed as though touched in sleep. Your dream evaporates too quickly to recall but his name lingers on your tongue.

Hyunjin.

You sit up slowly. The blanket you fell asleep under has been pulled up neatly around your shoulders. Tucked in. You don’t remember ending up sleeping with a blanket last night. You had been too hot.

Your eyes flick to the painting above the fireplace. His face hasn’t changed. Not obviously. But there’s something new in it. The smirk a little more knowing. The gaze a little lower.

No longer looking out. Now looking at you. Your thighs press together and your pussy clenches around nothing. You don’t know what it is about the man in the painting that makes you so aroused.

You try to shake it off. You go about your morning in silence, making tea on the old stove, watching the steam curl up like breath from unseen lips. You talk out loud to yourself, just to fill the air but the silence answers you anyway.

A creak above your head.

A soft whisper. Like the beginning of a song, just out of reach.

You freeze.

The cup trembles slightly in your hand. You glance toward the staircase, but there’s nothing there. Just shadows coiled at the top of the landing like smoke. You set the cup down. Decide to clean again. The hallway feels tighter today, the corners darker. As you pass the spot where the name Hyunjin is carved into the wall, your eyes catch something new.

A handprint. It’s faint but it’s there.

Just below the letters, as if someone had pressed their palm there while scratching out the name. You reach to touch it. The plaster is ice cold. You shiver and turn away quickly but you can feel it now.

That thing they never taught you how to name, the feeling of being watched, not with malice… but with intent. Like you’re no longer a guest in the house.

You’re the prize.

━━━━━━━━━━☽༓☾━━━━━━━━━━━━

By late afternoon, you return to the attic again.

You don’t know why, but you’re longing to be near them. The paintings.

The unfinished portrait is still there. Still of you but it’s different now. The brushstrokes are sharper, the shadows deeper. Your eyes in the painting are more complete. Wide, startled like you’ve just realised something and next to you, in the shadows, the faintest outline of a hand now emerges from the dark space near your shoulder. Long lithe fingers. Just reaching.

You didn’t paint this and you haven’t let anyone else inside.

You back away slowly, heart pounding, and as you turn to leave, the old phonograph in the corner creaks to life without warning. The record spins. No one touched it. The needle drags.

Then the music begins soft, slow, haunting. Like a waltz half-remembered from childhood dreams. It’s the song. That song. The one you were humming to yourself.

You freeze on the spot and a gasp falls from your lips. In that moment. There’s no electricity, how is it playing? In the dusty reflection of a mirror propped in the corner, you swear you see him. Only a glimpse. Standing just behind you. Not quite smiling. Before the mirror goes still again.

━━━━━━━━━━☽༓☾━━━━━━━━━━━━

After the mirror incident, you don’t return to the attic for the rest of the day. You crave it but you resist.

You spend the evening with every candle you can light, even though only half of them stay lit. The static from upstairs still plays. The windows stay shut. You don’t eat. Your appetite drowned in the echo of that phantom music.

Instead, you return to the leather-bound journal. The same one you found in the cabinet.

You flip to the middle, where pages curl like dried leaves. Some have stains on them, water? Ink? You can’t tell. But the handwriting is shakier now. More urgent.

You land on an entry marked,

November 6th, 1989

I heard him again last night.

No…

I felt him.

The bed dipped as though someone sat beside me and then… the air moved against my throat like a sigh. Not cold. Not warm either. Just there.

I said his name out loud. Only once. I didn’t mean to but it made the silence pulse. Like the house held its breath.

I asked him to show me. Just once. I begged. I don’t know why I did it. Or maybe I do.

I want him to look at me like he does in the paintings. I want to know if I still exist when he sees me. If I am anything more than dust to him.

He answered me but not with words.

The candle by my bed burned out the moment I closed my eyes and I saw him. In the dark behind my eyelids. That long face. That mouth was made for both cruelty and worship. Plump and pink.

He said my name but it was my voice that spoke it.

You read the entry three times.

Your fingers tighten around the page until it crinkles. You can’t help but look up, slowly, toward the sitting room fireplace where his portrait still hangs.

He hasn’t moved.

Of course, he hasn’t.

You feel something in the room has changed. The air has that same tension you feel before lightning splits the sky. A pressure, subtle but deep, like you’re being pulled forward by a string threaded through your chest.

Your gaze lingers on the painted man’s eyes. You whisper it, just like she did.

“Hyunjin…”

The candles flicker and you swear, just barely, that you hear it again.

A voice. Yours.

“Come to me.”

━━━━━━━━━━☽༓☾━━━━━━━━━━━━

You fall asleep with the journal open across your chest, a single candle still burning on the mantel.

The flame dances for hours.

Then stills.

You’re dreaming.

The room is the same, your same blanket draped over your legs, the same armchair in the corner, the same low hum of silence wrapped around you like a second skin but the painting above the fireplace is missing.

In its place is a velvet curtain. Deep crimson. Heavy.

Then, you hear it.

Music again. That same song from the attic phonograph, slower now, like a heartbeat underwater.

You rise, barefoot, drawn forward by something warm pulsing behind the curtain. The room smells like candle wax and cedarwood. Like skin.

When you pull back the velvet drape, he’s there. Not painted. Alive.

Standing in the centre of the room like he’s always belonged to it. The same face you’ve memorised from canvas after canvas, only now he’s moving, breathing.

His dark hair falls in loose waves over his cheekbones in a half-up up half-down ponytail. His pillowy lips are parted, just barely. His cat-like eyes. God, his eyes are molten shadow, thick with knowing. With hunger. He wears a soft white shirt, half-unbuttoned, exposing the smooth line of his collarbones, the delicate notch of his throat.

You know it’s a dream.

You know it.

When he steps toward you, slow and sure, you forget your name.

He says yours.

Not out loud. Not exactly. You feel it inside you, like a thought someone else whispered into your skull. “Y/N.” You shudder. He walks closer. Doesn’t touch you, he just studies you. Like you’re the art now.

“I’ve waited so long,” he says. His voice is velvet soaked in wine, deep and patient, with something trembling beneath it. It’s the most gorgeous sound you’ve ever heard. “I watched them all. But you… You came to me willingly.”

You part your lips, but no sound comes out. You’re not afraid. Or maybe you are. But it’s beautiful and that makes it worse.

“Do you know what it means,” he murmurs, “to bring the portrait down from the attic?” His eyes hold yours, unwavering. “It means you want to be seen.” He raises a hand slowly. You don’t move away.

His Fingertips trail just above your cheek, not touching, but close enough to make your skin burn.

“You dream of me because I dream of you too, darling.”

The candlelight flickers violently behind him and then the room begins to peel away. The dream collapsing in on itself like silk slipping from skin.

He leans in, his breath ghosting over your mouth, and in the final moment before waking, he whispers.

“Soon.”

You wake with a gasp.

The candle is out. Your neck is damp with sweat.

In your lap, the journal has been turned to a new page. One that wasn’t there before. The ink is still drying and it reads:

You brought me closer once. Will you let me in now?

━━━━━━━━━━☽༓☾━━━━━━━━━━━━

You avoid mirrors that morning.

You catch yourself doing it.

Not deliberately, at first, just a feeling. A tug behind your ribs. An awareness. As if your reflection might not behave. As if you’d look up and he’d be there, standing just over your shoulder, still and watching.

You shower with the curtain half-drawn, wipe the steamed mirror without meeting your own gaze. You get dressed slowly, distractedly. Your hands tremble when you button your blouse. The fabric brushes your skin and feels… too much. Too heavy.

Every sensation has been louder since the dream. You keep touching the spot on your neck where you felt him breathe. It lingers like perfume, like ghostfire.

You make tea to keep your hands busy but you don’t drink it. You wander through the house instead, pretending to organise, dusting shelves that don’t need dusting. Moving books. Not looking at the reflection in the hallway frame. Not looking at the portrait over the fireplace.

It’s there, that feeling. He is there.

Always watching, always waiting and you feel it. More than ever before.

Not just in the painting. Not just in the attic. He’s… everywhere now. Like he’s under your skin, in your blood. In the groan of the floorboards. In the hush of the house when you walk by. In the faint brush of wind against the back of your thigh when no window is open.

You see movement in your periphery at least three times before noon.

Once in the reflection of the cracked hallway glass. Just a silhouette, long and dark, gliding behind you like a shadow with intention.

The second time in the kitchen window. He’s standing in the garden for less than a heartbeat before he’s gone but you definitely saw him. Didn’t you? Pale skin. Bare, delicate throat. Hair pushed back like in the painting’s earliest strokes.

The third time, you see him more clearly and you don’t look away. His smile curves into a maniacal grin like he knows he’s winning.

Later you’re in the drawing room, picking through old boxes, pretending the pounding in your chest is just exertion. The window beside you is fogged by the rain outside. You don’t remember it starting.

Lightning flashes once, briefly illuminating the garden.

This time he doesn’t vanish. He’s standing just beyond the window.

Hyunjin.

You freeze.

He’s not moving. He isn’t trying to come closer. His head is slightly tilted, like he’s studying you, the same way he did in the dream. Like you’re the portrait now. His masterpiece.

You raise your hand, fingers lifting as if drawn on strings but before you can touch the glass, He smiles again.

Just slightly. Just enough to make your stomach twist. You hear him through the glass like his lips are pressed against your ear. “If you knew what I dream of doing to you, you’d run. Or maybe… you’d crawl.”

Then, the thunder rolls in, and when the light flickers again, he’s gone.

You don’t run. You don’t scream. You don’t even cry but your heart is pounding under your blouse, your blood pumping incessantly. Instead, you walk to the sitting room. To the fireplace.

To him.

The portrait.

You sink down onto your knees in front of it. The fire beneath has long since turned to embers, the room cold enough to make your breath mist but you’re sweating, trembling.

You reach up, pressing your palm gently to the frame. The wood is warm. Not from heat.

From presence.

Your eyes trace his features again, and again, and again. The way the line of his collarbones disappears into the shadow of the canvas. The tilt of his mouth. That expression, curious, smug, indulgent.

You exhale shakily. “You’re real, aren’t you?” You whisper to him.

You expect silence. Instead, a soft gust of air moves across your face, as though the painting has exhaled too. Your breath catches.

“I see you,” you say, quietly. “Even when I tell myself I shouldn’t.” Your fingers trail lower, brushing the bottom of the frame. You bite your lip. “I should be afraid of you. I think I was, at first.” The candle beside the portrait flickers. “But now…” You swallow. “Now I think I want you to look at me the way you did in that dream.”

Silence. Then something shifts in the room. The scent changes.

Gone is the must of the old house and in its place, a soft sweetness, rich and heady, like amber and something warmer. Skin warmed by candlelight. Silk clinging to damp flesh. The smell of night, and want. You close your eyes.“Did you make them fall in love with you?” you ask, your voice just above a whisper. “All of them? Did they all go mad for you?” Your voice is shaking now, but it doesn’t matter. No one’s listening. Except for him. “Is that what’s happening to me?” You open your eyes.

The portrait is the same and yet… his lips. They’re parted now. Only slightly. Like he’s going to respond.

You lean in, breath brushing the paint.

“What would you do to me,” you whisper, “if I said I didn’t want to run anymore?”

The silence holds you like arms and in the stillness, you hear it. Not out loud.

But inside you.

A voice like a promise, velvet and ruin.

“Then come to me, little thing. I’ll show you what it means to belong.”

━━━━━━━━━━☽༓☾━━━━━━━━━━━━

That night, you lit every candle in the house.

You open the windows to let in the wind and then close them again because it smells like him. Because it makes your breath catch, like fingers grazing your spine. Like silk draped over bare skin. You tell yourself it’s foolish.

You leave the painting uncovered.

You stare at him until your eyes burn. Until you feel that soft tug behind your breastbone again, that thread connecting you to something deeper, older, unknowable.

You curl up on the sofa with the blanket and this time, you ask for him.

You close your eyes and say his name aloud like a prayer. “Hyunjin. Come to me.” And the world tilts.

The dream begins in darkness.

Then candlelight flickers, thousands of tiny flames floating midair. No walls. No floor. Just velvet shadows beneath your feet and golden heat pressed against your skin.

You’re dressed differently here.

Something soft and sheer, a slip of fabric barely covering you. Your bare legs, your collarbone, the delicate curve of your shoulder, all visible. You know it’s a dream, but you feel exposed.

Wanted.

Then, you feel it.

Him.

A presence before the voice.

“Darling,” he murmurs behind you. “You keep calling for me. Do you even know what you’re asking for?”

You turn and there he is. Hyunjin. Closer than before. Closer than you’ve ever seen him. Not a painting. Not a phantom. Real and breathtaking.

His skin glows in the candlelight, the pale gold sheen of it like something carved from marble and silk. His hair falls loose around his face, strands grazing his lips. His eyes, black fire, endless, wanting.

He steps toward you.

You don’t move.

He lifts a hand, delicate, ringed fingers and brushes them down your arm. You shiver. It’s not cold. It’s too warm. Like his touch seeps under your skin.

“You brought me down from the attic,” he says softly. “That was your invitation.”

You swallow, lips parting. “I didn’t mean-”

He cuts you off with a smile. A beautiful, devastating smile.

“You did.” He says.

His fingers trail to your wrist, holding it gently against your pulse point.

“I’ve watched you since the moment you stepped into my house. Do you know how long I’ve waited to be looked at the way you look at me?” He says against your neck.

You try to speak but you can’t.

“You dream of me,” he whispers, leaning closer, voice velvet and threat and reverence all at once. “But I was dreaming of you first. I asked for you, waited for you.”

You feel him, everywhere.

His other hand slides to your waist, pulling you against him. The slip of fabric you wear clings to your skin. His chest is warm against yours. You feel the curve of his mouth near your ear.

“Do you want to know what I’ll do to you?” His words come out through gritted teeth, like it’s taking every effort for him to hold back.

You nod before you can stop yourself. You ache. You burn.

“I’ll ruin you slowly,” he breathes. “I’ll make you forget your name, beautiful. You’ll sleep with my voice in your throat and my hands burned into your skin. You’ll beg me to stay even as you break for me.”

He brushes his lips over your jaw. Doesn’t kiss you. Just brands you with the promise of it.

“But you’ll be mine, darling. You already are.”

You gasp as his hand tightens around your wrist, his grip firm now, commanding.

“Say it,” he hisses. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m-” Your voice catches when you attempt to speak.

He squeezes harder. Your breath shakes.

“Say it, little thing.” His voice comes out harshly. So much that it shakes you.

“I’m yours, Hyunjin.” You whimper.

The moment you say it, the candles flare so brightly they blind you.

He grips your hip and then…

You wake.

You sit up on the couch, heart hammering, throat dry as your hands claw at it, like something is inside you. The fire is out again. The house is quiet.

Too quiet, then you feel it.

A throb in your skin, on your wrist.

You pull back the sleeve of your blouse, trembling fingers fumbling at the cuff. Your breath hitches. On your pale skin, a perfect outline of a hand. Long fingers. Splayed.

Pressed too hard. Bruised.

Exactly where he held you in the dream. You stare at it, chest rising and falling too fast. Tears start to fall down your cheeks and a small sob escapes your mouth.

It’s real. It’s impossible. He’s real.

You bring the wrist to your chest, hold it like a wound, like a gift. Like something sacred.

Slowly, shamefully, your thighs press together. You can feel your arousal soaking through the delicate fabric of your panties. You’re aching for someone who doesn’t exist.

Except… he does and he left his mark on you.

━━━━━━━━━━☽༓☾━━━━━━━━━━━━

You stop answering the door to the postman or neighbours. The outside world dulls in your mind. It feels irrelevant. You leave unopened mail that’s now overloading the post box at the front of the house. The electrician knocks but you don’t answer. You ignore the calendar, ignore the window, ignore the time of day.

Your life narrows down to candlelight, silence, and him. Hyunjin.

You say his name out loud now, without shame. You whisper it when you pass his portrait. When you lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. When your hands are shaking and your skin burns with the memory of his dream-touch.

The bruise on your wrist has darkened into deep indigo and yellowed at the edges.

You run your thumb over it every few hours, pressing until it hurts, until your eyes flutter shut with the ghost of pleasure.

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Three days pass like this.

Maybe more.

On the fourth, if it even is the fourth, you go into the attic again. Something compels you. Something soft and undeniable. You climb the steps barefoot, your nightgown whispering around your ankles, hair unbrushed and loose.

You pass the unfinished painting of yourself without looking at it.

You know he’s in it now, you can feel his eyes on you. You carry a new canvas under your arm.

You set it down in the centre of the attic floor. Light spills through the stained-glass window at the far end, painting the space in muted red and gold, like the inside of a wound.

You kneel and begin. You don’t know why you paint. You’ve never been trained. Never done more than sketch absentmindedly in notebooks during meetings but your hand moves like it remembers something your body forgot. Like it belongs to someone else.

The first stroke is his jawline.

Then his mouth, plump and smirking, as always.

You dip your fingers into the paint instead of using a brush. The way the oil clings to your skin feels like sin. Like blood.

You paint until your shoulders ache and your knees are sore against the wooden floor. You paint until the candle beside you burns low, until the red light from the window fades into black.

By the time you stop, his face is there.

Not perfect but it’s close.

Too close.

Later, you wake up on the attic floor.

You don’t remember falling asleep. Your fingers are stained with paint, red, black, a strange bruised plum. It’s dried under your nails, in the crease of your knuckles, like something living.

The painting stares back at you and he’s beautiful.

He looks younger in this one. Softer, perhaps. His lips slightly parted. His throat is bare again under the collar of his white shirt. One side of his mouth lifted in a secret smile, the kind lovers share when no one else is watching.

You realise what you’ve done.

His chest is exposed. Smooth, pale, ethereal. You painted him how he looked in your dream.

Worshipful. You painted desire. Then, you carry it downstairs. This time, you hang it in your bedroom. Opposite the bed. You’ve started sleeping in there now.

You stare at it for a long time, standing in your nightgown, arms wrapped around yourself. You feel flushed. Like you’ve been caught naked by someone who sees everything.

Your breath shallows. “Is this what you wanted?” you ask quietly. “Me like this?” The painting doesn’t move but it’s like the room shifts. The temperature climbs. The air thickens. Your nipples harden under the cotton fabric. You squeeze your thighs together without thinking.

The candle on your bedside table flickers violently, then steadies. Your heart pounds. You know what’s happening. You know this is madness but, it’s a madness that feels like coming home.

You lie down on your bed, the sheets cool against your overheated skin. You turn your head toward the painting.

Hyunjin looks down at you.

Not the way a man looks at a stranger but the way a man looks at someone he’s already claimed.

You reach down slowly, one hand drifting beneath the blanket, under the hem of your nightgown.

Your eyes stay on his as your fingers slide lower.

You shouldn’t but your body hums with need, and there’s no one to stop you now.

No one to save you from him and worst of all, you don’t want to be saved.

Your fingers trace your folds lightly, as you imagine his would. Your slick coating them, you circle your clit lazily, moaning under your breath. Your under hand joins and you pull apart your pussy, like you’re displaying it. For him.

You pull the sheets away, now fully exposed towards the painting where you meet his lustful gaze through the canvas.

Your lips part and you sigh, pushing two of your fingers into your tight opening. Your cunt clenches around them at the thought of your indecency. You curl your fingers upwards finding your g-spot, your hips rock to meet them and you whimper his name like a curse. Like you’re begging. You know he sees you and you want him to.

You come quickly then, imagining his palm against your throat and his fingers buried inside you. His voice whispering, “Darling.” Your pussy pulsating as you climax.

By the time you drift into sleep, you feel warm, spent, glowing. Your hand rests loosely on your chest, rising and falling with each soft breath but before your eyes flutter closed, just for a moment, you think you see the painting blink.

The candle burns out while you sleep.

The room is quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that waits.

You dream again.

This time, there is no gentle darkness, no soft invitation. The space is harsh and shadowed, the air sharp as bitten lips. The candles that usually float like stars now flicker erratically, angry. The air hums with static, with fury.

He’s there before you can turn. Hyunjin, but he’s not like before.

His beauty is the same, still impossible, still so lovely it hurts, but his expression is different. Not amused. Not worshipful.

He looks betrayed. His jaw clenched and his eyes are black with fire.

You blink, your breath already catching in your throat. You try to speak, but he’s already closing the space between you. His steps are slow, deliberate.

He’s furious and yet, you ache for him.

“Do you think this is a game?” he asks, voice low and sharp like a blade, you wince at his harsh tone. “Do you think I don’t see you?”

He circles you, the air thick with him. The scent of spice and storm.

“Touching yourself,” he hisses, just behind your ear. “Under my gaze.”

You flush. “I-”

“Without asking.” He’s in front of you again, gaze burning. His lip curls. There’s hurt beneath the anger. Real, wounded.

“You think you can use me like a mirror,” he murmurs. “Look at me and take what you want, and leave me wanting?”

Your chest rises and falls too quickly. Shame curls hot in your belly and underneath it, something worse. Desire.

“It wasn’t like that,” you whisper. A tear falls and his thumb presses against it, holding it on your skin like he wants to keep it there. Make you feel it. The wet. The shame.

He tilts his head. “No?” He steps closer.

You try to move back, but the room shifts with you, keeping you trapped in his orbit. Your shoulder brushes a floating candle, and the flame licks your skin without burning.

“You think this is about lust?” he breathes. “You think I wanted to watch you fall apart while I stood here with nothing?”

Your throat dries.

“You begged for me,” he says. “You called me to you. You painted me. You spoke to me. You offered yourself and now you act like I’m not the one who decides how this goes?”

You can’t answer. Your hands are shaking and he notices. His voice softens, just slightly, and that’s what makes it worse. “I would’ve touched you,” he says, low and raw. “If you’d waited. If you’d asked me.”

You close your eyes.

“I would’ve undone you slowly,” he murmurs, stepping closer again. “Kissed your thighs. Worshipped you, made that ache you can still feel between your legs go away.” He pauses, his mouth so close to yours. “But only if you were mine.”

You open your eyes. “I am,” you breathe.

“Say it again.” He demands, his hand on your cheek now bruising.

“I’m yours.” You sob.

His expression flickers, something cracks. Something breaks open. He moves and grabs your chin, tilting your head up. Not rough, but not gentle either.

His thumb brushes your lower lip.

“No more touching yourself without permission,” he says, voice thick. “You want release? You ask. You wait. You earn it.”

You nod slowly, lips parting. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

His jaw tenses.

“I think you did.” He spits. He leans in, so close you can feel the heat of his breath.

“But I forgive you,” he whispers, so softly, so gently, like his anger flipped like a light switch. “Because you’re my little thing. Because I’ll teach you better.”

Your knees nearly give.

He leans forward like he’s going to kiss you. But he stops, just an inch away. His voice lowers to a growl. “And next time you touch yourself without my permission…” he pauses. “I won’t be so merciful.”

The dream begins to unravel around you like smoke but his hand stays on your jaw, holding you in place. His lips against the corner of your mouth teasing with a faux kiss.

“Now wake up.”

You jolt awake in the dark. You’re sweating and the sheets are tangled between your legs. Your lips feel kissed, but they weren’t. Your core throbs with unspent ache. Your hands are empty. Your wrists are bare but your skin still tingles where he held you and you know now, for sure. He’s not just a ghost in the walls.

He’s real.

He’s watching and next time, you ask.

You’ll beg.

━━━━━━━━━━☽༓☾━━━━━━━━━━━━

You’re interrupted by a knock, sharp and repeated three times. It echoes down the hallway like a sound not meant to be here. You flinch, nearly dropping the brush in your hand. You’d been painting again, your fifth attempt this week, all them of him. Each more beautiful, each more wrong. None of them is enough.

You haven’t had a visitor in days. Weeks, maybe.

No one should be knocking.

You hesitate, brush still dripping crimson onto the floorboards. Another knock. Firmer. More human than anything you’ve felt in days.

You finally peel yourself away from the bedroom and pad toward the front door, vision slightly blurred from hours of staring at the canvas. When you open it, blinking into the afternoon light as you gaze upon a man.

Not Hyunjin.

Someone else.

He’s handsome in a way that feels solid, real. Like a person who eats hot meals and lifts heavy things and doesn’t whisper through walls. Tan skin, strong arms crossed over a thick jacket, concern in his eyes before you even say hello.

“Y/N?” His voice is deep, grounding.

“Sorry to just show up. I’m Changbin, uh, your neighbour, sort of. Down by the hill.” He pauses. “Your aunt used to talk about you. I helped her around the place, fixed the shutters after that storm years back. I didn’t know she’d passed until recently as I hadn’t heard from her for a while.”

You open your mouth. No sound comes. Then, he looks at you, really looks and his expression changes. “You look like you haven’t been sleeping.” He steps forward instinctively, hand brushing your arm. His touch is warm. Earthly. Unwelcome.

The second he touches you, the house responds.

A deep, guttural groan rolls through the floorboards like an animal rousing from its den. The overhead light flickers. A sudden draft snakes up from beneath the door to the basement. The air grows heavy.

Changbin steps back. “Shit,” he mutters. “It’s still here.”

You blink. “What?”

He looks at you then, serious. No flirtation. No pretence. “You shouldn’t be here alone.”

“I’m fine.” You say, a bit too bluntly.

“No, you’re not. I know this house. I know what it does.” He whispers as if he knows it hears him.

You laugh. Not because it’s funny. Because it’s too late. “You have no idea-”

“He lives in the paint,” Changbin interrupts you.

Your blood runs cold at his words. “What did you say?” You ask, in disbelief.

He stares at you.

“Don’t say his name. Don’t let him in and for God’s sake, don’t paint him.” He says, breathless. His eyes glazed over in what seemed like fear.

The air thickens like molasses.

“I already did,” you whisper.

Changbin’s face pales.

“You need to leave. Now. Pack what you can. Go to a hotel. Call someone.” He says, he’s shaking now but you don’t move.

Because the hallway behind you is darker now than it was a minute ago. Because the door to the sitting room has slowly creaked shut on its own and because you can feel eyes on the back of your neck.

“He won’t let me,” you say.

Changbin grips your shoulders. “Listen to me. You’re not possessed. Not yet but you’re under his influence. This house, it makes you love him. Makes you want to stay.”

“I do want to stay.” You answer, too quickly.

He shakes his head. “No. That’s not you talking.”

Something crashes behind you.

A framed photo drops from the wall and shatters on the floor, glass exploding outward, like something pushed it. Changbin flinches and looks up at the ceiling.

“You’re scaring him,” you say, voice strange and hollow.

“Good.” He says, but it doesn’t come out confidently.

Changbin looks at you again, gentler this time and for a moment, just a second, you feel like someone’s reaching a hand through the fog. “I can help you, Y/N. You don’t have to do this alone.” He says, gently.

Then, all the candles blow out at once. The air howls. The hallway stretches unnaturally long behind you and a voice you recognise, too close, too deep, curls into your ear from nowhere.

“Mine.”

You gasp and stumble, nearly falling into Changbin.

He catches you.

The house roars again, louder this time. A low, guttural thrum that vibrates the floorboards, makes the windows tremble in their frames. A wind slams against the door from inside the house.

Changbin’s jaw tightens. He pulls you toward him.

“He’s stronger now. Feeding off you. Off what you’ve done. Every stroke of paint, every time you said his name, it gave him form.” He speaks through small gasps of breath.

“I didn’t know-” you start.

“You do now.” He says.

Changbin observes you, his gaze pleading “Don’t let him take the rest.”

You’re shaking. “He already has.”

He leaves you with his home number. He writes it on your palm, presses your fingers closed over it. “If he manifests, really manifests, don’t speak to him. Don’t touch him. Don’t look him in the eyes. Do you understand?” He pleads.

You nod but you’re lying because later that night, you go to your bedroom.

You shut the door and you stand before the painting again. You trace his collarbones with your fingertip. “I missed you.” You whisper, with eyes glazed over with longing.

The house sighs around you. Pleased. Purring.

You look at Hyunjin’s features in the canvas and they’re darker than before.

Alive.

You feel him before you see him. A soft shift in the air. The flicker of candlelight is slowing.

He steps from the shadows. Not from a doorway. Not from behind you. From nowhere. From the space between breath and silence. From the place you painted him into.

Hyunjin.

He’s real, solid. Undeniable.

The same face you’ve seen in dreams of oil paints and smoke, now with skin that gleams in the candlelight. His chest was rising and falling. Bare feet soundless against the floor. Hair falling in dark sheets around his face and his eyes. They’re the first thing you try not to look at but they pull. They always pull.

You look anyway. You can’t not. They’re furious.

“He touched you.” His voice is colder than you’ve ever heard it. “That… man.”

You part your lips, try to speak, make an excuse but no sound comes.

“You let him put his hands on you.” He says. You shake your head. “I didn’t want him to-”

He’s across the room before you can finish, towering over you at the foot of the bed. His presence makes the candlelight shiver.

“You should’ve stopped him.” He curses, jaw clenched. The muscles in his neck shift. He looks almost… wounded and then something flickers in his expression.

A softness. A restraint pulled tight. “But you didn’t go with him.” He says, gently. Like he’s speaking to an innocent child.

You nod, slowly.

“You stayed,” he says, quieter now. “You stayed with me.” He kneels in front of you.

Your breath catches.

He lifts your hands in his, pale, cool fingers ghosting over your knuckles, your wrists. His touch is reverent. Gentle. Possessive. His thumb brushes the inside of your palm.

The place where Changbin’s number is still written. He looks down at it, then up at you. “Open it, give me your hand.” He says. You hesitate, then you do.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to your palm. Then he wipes the number away with his thumb. The ink smears and disappears.

“There,” he whispers. “That’s better.” He looks up at you again and this time you try to look away. You turn your head, breathing shallow, remembering what Changbin said. ‘Don’t look him in the eyes’ but Hyunjin’s fingers claim your jaw and they tighten. “No,” he says gently. “Don’t deny me now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

His voice dips, low and velvet-smooth. “You already gave me everything. I watched you in the dark, desperate, wet and shaking just from my name.”

You shiver. Goosebumps trail your skin.

“You paint me with trembling hands. You sleep beneath me. You whisper to me like I’m your god.” His grip tilts your face back toward him.

“Open your eyes, darling.” He says.

You can’t, so he leans in, mouth brushing your cheek. “Look at me.” His voice, startling. It echoes off the walls.

You obey and you fall.

It’s not just his gaze, it’s gravity. It’s a void wrapped in beauty. His eyes are endless, sharp and soft all at once. They strip you bare. They know you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs.

A whimper catches in your throat.

“You disobeyed me,” he says. “You touched yourself without asking but today, you stayed and for that…” He trails his hands up your thighs, barely grazing fabric, like a promise you haven’t earned yet. “You deserve to be rewarded.” He says, his pupils are blown. Smirk on his lips like he knows you’re already aching for him.

You tremble under his touch, under his eyes. There’s fear there but deeper still, there’s hunger. For him. For the darkness in him. For the way he sees you.

“You belong to me now, darling,” he says.

“I know.” You reply, almost on instinct.

“Say it.” He growls.

“I belong to you.” You whimper and at that, he smiles and this time it’s not cruel. It’s possessive. Triumphant.

“Then come here, little thing,” he whispers. “Let me show you what devotion earns.”

Hyunjin doesn’t rush. He never does.

You sit on the edge of the bed, barely breathing, trembling under the weight of his gaze. His hands cool, beautiful, steady, slide up your thighs, parting them with the patience of someone who already knows he’ll be obeyed.

You’ve never felt so bare. Not just physically, utterly stripped but also seen in a way that should shame you. Instead, it sets your nerves alight.

“Lie back for me, darling,” he says softly.

You obey without hesitation, sinking into the sheets, breath hitching. Your nightgown rides up your hips, and he doesn’t fix it. He just watches you.

“You’ve been so good,” Hyunjin murmurs, running a single finger up the inside of your thigh. “Even after your little disobedience.”

You whimper as he presses your legs wider.

“You stayed for me,” he continues, as if in reverence. “You looked at me when I asked. You let me in.” His lips brush your knee and your hips lift instinctively, needing him closer.

He chuckles against your skin. “Hungry little thing…” He kisses higher. Each press of his mouth was deliberate, claiming. His hands pin your thighs open. You can feel your slickness against the air now, humiliating in how ready you are.

“Look at you,” he purrs. “Already ruined, and I haven’t even touched you where you need me.”

Your voice is gone. You can’t form words.

Only shallow gasps.

Then his mouth finds you. The moment his tongue touches your clit, your hips buck violently.

Hyunjin groans against you, satisfied. “That’s it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, breath warm against your folds. “Let me taste how much you need me.” he says and then he devours you. There’s no other word for it. It isn’t slow or romantic, it’s worshipful in hunger, the way a starving god would claim an offering. His mouth is firm and sure and relentless, tongue flicking and curling with obscene skill, dragging whimpers and moans from you so raw they embarrass you.

He loves it.

You can feel the satisfaction radiating off him, feel his pride in the way your body responds, trembling, gasping for more.

You try to reach down, try to grab his hair, something, but he growls against your cunt. “No.” He pins your hands to the mattress with one strong palm. Bringing his face up to yours, his teeth are bared in an animalistic manner. “You don’t get to touch. You just take what I give you.” Your walls clench around nothing, the ache growing unbearable.

He releases your wrists but you keep them there, fearing he’ll stop if you move. His mouth presses to your wet cunt and he laps at you, lazily now, dragging it out. Teasing. Controlling.

“You’re so wet, darling.” he groans. “I could drink from you.” You cry out, legs quaking. You’re so close. So close but just before the wave crashes, just before you break… he stops.

You sob, lifting your hips, but he holds you down firmly. “No,” he says again, gaze dark and serious now. “Not yet.”

“Hyunjin… please-” Your voice is wrecked. You’re crying.

He rises from between your legs, lips and chin glistening with your arousal, the candlelight casting him in a gold and soft glow. His hair falls around his face like ink.

He doesn’t kiss your mouth and doesn’t hold you. Just watches you, flushed and gasping, undone. “This was your reward,” he says quietly. “For being mine. For staying but I never said anything about your punishment, for your disobedience.” He growls the last word.

Your body shakes from need. You don’t understand why he’s leaving but you know better than to beg again.

“Next time,” he murmurs, brushing a knuckle down your throat, licking at his lips. Tasting your arousal. “If you’re very good… maybe I’ll let you come.”

You choke on a soft moan, pressing your thighs together as your hips grind into the empty air.

He steps back into the shadows. His form begins to blur. The candlelight dims but before he vanishes entirely, you hear his voice one last time. Right against your ear.

“I’ll be watching.”

You’re left trembling. Empty and marked with his mouth. You know it’s too late to leave now. You don’t want to. You want him to finish what he started but Hyunjin never gives you what you want. Only what he thinks you deserve.

The house is quiet after he disappears. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that rings in your ears.

You lie in bed for a long time, legs sticky with your own arousal, heart still thudding like it hasn’t caught up to the fact that he’s gone. You stare at the ceiling and imagine his weight still on top of you. His lips are still between your thighs. His breath still claims the air you breathe but he’s not there. He left you aching. Again.

Part 2

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Tumblr wouldn’t let me post it all as a one shot so the link to part 2 is above.

Disclaimer - Stray Kids are not owned by me and are just used as inspiration for fiction. This story does not represent them or Hyunjin in real life. Images in the header are not owned by me.

Feel free to like, comment and reblog.

Do not repost, translate or copy my work.

Taglist - @fairylix @hoes4minho @lilileen25 @akindaflora @tirena1 @stayjinnie @jehhskz

@alittlebitofeverything04 @chloe-elise-2000

[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes - 35. concert (half-written)

a/n: alt title: y/n having her y/n moment

you watch as everyone is admitted one by one from behind the door, peeking out so you don't cause too much ruckus. some find seats while others trade their ticket in for a beverage, and others chat amongst one another.

the beat against your chest gets more drastic as soon as the last pair are inside. you watch the two head to the upstairs seating before going back behind the door and taking a deep breath.

after a few minutes the chatter starts to settle down. everyone is comfy with their beverages and situated, which means it's time for the performance to start.

a staff member gets on stage and checks the microphone, then the guitar before she speaks toward the crowd, capturing their attention.

"hello everyone! good evening. the show will start soon, thank you for your compliance! enjoy!"

a wave of cheers and applaud roars throughout the cafe, overwhelming you just a bit. you still can't believe it, there's a whole crowd for you out there.

the staff member, jia, comes backstage and gives you a comforting smile. you've gotten to know her briefly and she's the sweetest person you know. she's supportive of your work and had been understanding as she helped you adjust and get to know the label, as well as their building.

"everything is ready." jia says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "are you?"

"y-yeah." you mumble. she pulls you in suddenly for a hug, rubbing your back softly.

"they'll love you, promise. fighting!" she cheers, putting a fist up.

you chuckle. "fighting!"

she pats you on the back once more before pushing you out there. you take a deep breath before stepping out, the murmuring simmering down and erupting into cheers. you smile as the lights around dim everywhere except the ones above you, emphasizing your moment.

you grab your electric guitar, putting the strap over so it can sit on your neck before you step closer to the microphone. you tap once, then twice, and finally a third time before speaking into it.

"hello?" you say quizically, unsure if you're unlucky enough to start your first show off with a mic that decides to cut off when it's your time to shine. "ah, it's working. hi everyone!"

there's another set of cheers, much louder than before, you might add.

"wow, oh my gosh, haha, you guys are so full of energy this is so cool." your nerves ease slightly and a giggle escapes when you hear someone calling you cute. "right. wow, this is so crazy—me being up here and all. thank you so much for being here. I'm beyond grateful for your support, and... honestly, I almost cried backstage before coming out here." that earns a ripple of laughter and a few heartfelt "awww's" from the audience.

someone shouts, "we love you!" and you can't help but laugh, the warmth of their support beginning to melt your anxiety.

"right. i'm starting off with my first song: i don’t wanna be okay without you. it originally was a small project that i uploaded on youtube after a very... eventful night." you start, strumming the first chords of the song. "i was so emotional so i sat down, sang, uploaded it, and fell asleep to push away what i felt. i woke up to a ton of notifications and my life changed significantly after that. this song will always be one of my favorites. okay, I'll stop talking now." you joke.

you strum again, the chords echoing through the room. you close your eyes for a moment, letting the familiarity of the song center you before you start singing. your voice is soft but steady, and as the melody builds, so does your confidence. people are swaying in their chairs, some mouthing the words. a group near the table holds up their phones to record, their faces flowing with excitement.

when the final note fades, the applause is immediate and enthusiastic. you're met with a wave of relief and pride that almost knocks you over. "thank you," you say into the mic, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much. "wow, okay. this all just got really real. wow, thank you so much."

the crowd "awww's" at your words and really just you in general, making you giggle. and then you take a moment to sip some water, glancing around the room, soaking in the faces turned toward you.

"this next song is called letter—" you're interrupted briefly by cheers and claps. you smile widely before continuing, "I also wrote this after going through, well, a lot. but this was a little later down the line." you admit nervously, fiddling with the mic stand. "it's kind of surreal to be here now. I've already said this, but things have flipped so much then. everything in my life has just been great and I'm just beyond grateful." you pause, feeling a teasing grin spread across your face. "these first two songs—and not the last—are kind of inspired by someone who, uh, did me dirty. that's all I can say. as much as I hate them, I'm not that petty.”

the crowd bursts into laughter and a few cheers. "spill!" someone shouts, making you laugh even harder.

"i don't know," you reply cheekily, "i think the songs say a good amount of it all."

letter has a slower, more brooding start, and as you sing, the room quiets down to let your voice take over. the raw emotion of the song seems to resonate with the crowd, and for a moment, it feels like it's just you, your guitar, and the song.

as the song ends, you're met with another round of applause, louder this time, and a few whistles that make your face flush. "thank you so much," you say, your voice more confident now. "okay, now that I've gotten through those two, let's have some fun."

the next part of your set transitions into covers, and the energy in the room shifts. "alright," you say with a grin, "I had some songs I wanted to cover, so I hope you all will enjoy. I've covered some of these before and a lot of people seemed to like it."

the room comes alive with the first notes, immediately catching on to the melody. best part by daniel caesar is recognizable two notes in, so the cheers and expressions of surprise that follow make you giggle.

people start singing along softly and it suddenly feels less like a concert in the best way possible. you, your fans, and the thing you love most: music. the harmony fills the cafe and so do flashlights on phones that sway from side to side. it really feels like you're sharing the moment with everyone and not just performing.

you keep the energy mellow with i fall in love too easily by chet baker, letting the soft jazz tones melt into the warm air. then, you pick up the pace slightly with easy by mac ayres and isn’t she lovely by stevie wonder. the audience sways to the rhythm, some people tapping their feet against the floor. every now and then, you catch someone's eye in the crowd and share a quick smile, feeling the connection deepen.

the cafe feels like a living room with how relaxed and carefree everyone is. it's like all the worries from outside have been left at the door and you're all just basking in the music. you laugh as the crowd sings along to the chorus’s, their voices blending with yours in a way that feels effortless and beautiful.

between songs, you chat casually with the audience. "you all sound amazing, by the way." you say, and the room bursts into cheers again. "seriously, I mean, maybe I should get off stage and let one of you sub in, that alright?" you ask, earning a wave of laughs.

it's comforting and refreshing to see how much fun everyone is having, and it fuels your energy as you get ready to finish the last cover you planned out. you take another sip of water and glance at the clock on the back wall, not ready for the night to end just yet.

"right, okay. i had two songs planned, which are both originals. I've posted one on youtube, but the other has been hiding in my notes app and voice memos for maybe a month now." you say, strumming a chord. "we'll start off with evergreen." and as soon as you say it there's a few cheers. you grin, strumming the next chord. "this is also heavily inspired by the same person I mentioned earlier. don't let someone make you feel worthless, not when you're worth so much." you add, earning a few chuckles and sympathetic looks from the crowd.

you pause, letting the melody settle over the room before you start singing. the reaction is instant—murmurs of recognition ripple through the audience, and a few people shout out excitedly.

your voice is steady, but there's a rawness in it that makes the words hit differently in this live setting as if the crowd knows the reason for making this song.

the song flows without effort, but as you reach the chorus, a wave of emotion washes over you. this isn't just a song anymore; it's a shared moment, one that feels like you're peeling back layers of yourself for everyone to see. the crowd sways, a few people even holding up their phones to capture the performance. by the time you finish, the applause is deafening, and you can't help but grin bashfully under all the attention.

"thank you," you say, voice wavering just a bit. "that song means a lot to me, so hearing you all react like that... it's everything." you take a deep breath, fingers brushing nervously over the strings of your guitar. "now, this next one... I've never played it live before. it's called clementine, and, uh, I guess you could say it's still learning how to walk, haha. it's also a piece of my heart, and I want you all to hear it first before it gets released... well, who knows when. "

the room falls into a heavy silence as you start to strum—it almost feels sacred. you start softly, the notes delicate and deliberate, and your voice follows, carrying the weight of the lyrics. as the song is sung, you can feel the emotion in the room shifting—some people are wiping at their eyes while others are just watching you with complete captivating spread on their features.

by the time you reach the final verse, your own voice falters slightly, thick with emotion. you close your eyes, letting the last few notes linger in the air before they fade into the quiet. for a moment, the room stays still, as if everyone is holding their breath, and then the applause erupts. it's not just loud—it's heartfelt, full of appreciation and love that makes your chest tighten.

you set your guitar down carefully, bringing the mic closer. "wow," you breathe out, breath shaky as tears prick at your eyes. "I don't want this to end. this night has been... it's been everything I hoped for and more." you pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "but I promise this is just the beginning, thanks to my label wavy. there will be a next time, and it's going to be even better and bigger."

the crowd cheers, and you can't stop yourself from laughing softly. "oh, and one last thing before I go," you add, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I'm working on something special! a debut album! a few songs including the two I have just performed."

the reaction is instant—a wave of excited chatter and applause that makes you smile wider, your heart full and light.

" i wasn't gonna say anything but... well, you've seen my twitter. i can't keep secrets, can I?" even through the overwhelming emotion, everyone laughs including you. "thank you so, so much," you say, waving eagerly as the lights dim. "you've made tonight unforgettable. I'll see you all soon!"

as you exit, the applause follows you, the sound echoing in your ears like a promise. you can't stop smiling even as you step backstage, letting the emotions of the night finally catch up to you. this moment, you know, is one you'll carry on for the rest of your life.

—

as you pack your guitar and change into something comfier—a hoodie and sweatpants—jia knocks on the door. you fix your hair before yelling, "come in!"

the door opens and she steps inside, watching you set your guitar case on the table.

"did you need something? i'm almost ready, I just needed to fix myself up." you say to her.

she shakes her head, smiling almost mischievously. "it's alright, I'll help you with your things. there's a surprise out in the cafe, along with a beverage that the owner made. you might want to check it out."

"aw, the owner didn't have to. oh, and what surprise?"

"you'll see." jia says, tugging at your arm and pushing you out. "you've got your personal items and everything, we'll take care of the rest. have a good night y/n."

"thanks?" you chuckle, stepping out.

you head out and see a few employees wiping the tables down. thankfully, your fans weren't messy at all. they cleaned up after themselves and threw their cups away without asking. you really are lucky.

there's a hot chocolate waiting by the barista area with a beautiful heart design. you take a picture before reading the note beside it:

"congratulations! we are honored to have you here as our musical guest. we hope to have you here again soon :)

—gomdori cafe <3"

you smile at the little note, folding it neatly and placing it in your pocket before you feel a tap on your shoulder. when you turn around, your eyes widen immediately.

yunjin and hanni are standing there with big smiles gracing their faces, amusement flooding their features as your reaction deepens.

"nice performance!" yunjin beams before you tackle her into a hug, nearly cutting off her air supply.

"what the fuck are you doing here? i thought you were busy?" you say into her neck.

"even if i were, i'd drop anything to watch my best friends first concert. that was wonderful." yunjin mumbles, tightening her embrace.

"you're insane." you scoff, pulling away and pushing her shoulder teasingly. “is this what you were fucking posting about? oh my god, i should’ve known.”

then, you turn to hanni. just seeing her makes your heart swell. she's grinning still from the interaction between yunjin, then widening her eyes as you pull her in for a hug as well. it's sudden but just right.

hanni is a little smaller, so you kind of engulf her in your arms. but you're warm, smell good, and really cute, so she hugs you back with the same force. yunjin watches you two with a smirk, noticing the undertones of the moment.

"surprise." she says sweetly.

"i can't believe you came too." you shift your weight on both feet as you hug her. "thank you."

hanni pulls away and smiles, looking into your eyes and making you blush.

"i wouldn't miss this, i'm your biggest fan." she jokes.

yunjin laughs, shaking her head. "this was hanni's idea, actually."

"really?" you ask.

"yup. she texted me when you made the announcement. we both wanted to surprise you."

you sigh, shaking your head. "you guys are terrible. were you here the whole time?"

hanni nods. "mhm. heard all of your awkward reactions too."

"oh shut up." you groan.

"it was cute though." hanni says quieter than before, rolling her eyes at you. “and you did great, so don’t worry.”

yunjin catches the spark between you immediately, raising her brows at the sight but not commenting.

the three of you then head out, yunjin and hanni congratulate and compliment you (though not without teasing), and you are left the happiest you've ever been. this was definitely a night to remember: you, your fans, the music, and two of the people you care about.

a/n (2): a bit iffy about how this was written + the pacing but I hope u guys liked it, let me know...!

masterlist ; previous - next

taglist ! @namojoon @ly-gushka @layonaiguess @artrizzler19 @yerimbrit @sixflame438 @nwjnsloona @saysirhc @nimnia @somedaydream @trovao-penguins @modanisgf @c-yerim @starstruckgoateepuppy @tzuyusdoughnut @kaypanaq @peranoo @haerinkisser @electronicluminarycoffee @yoohtonyy @secretcessy @keiji-jin @awkwardtoafault @syronns @linnnsworld @inybits @ynwrites

[sparkrls]

delayed proposal

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry’s got a few secrets up his sleeve and Y/N just wants to know if he’s going to propose

Author’s Note: this is the blurb i was talking about with bandmates!harry x y/n. remember to like and reblog because i crave validation. love ya <3

Word Count: 1.1k

•••

“Are you going to propose soon?” Was the last question Harry expected to be uttered out of Y/N’s bright pink lips.

It was just another Sunday night, the couple trying to enjoy those last fleeting moments of weekend relaxation before Monday arrived with the usual burden and obligations of being working adults.

In little less than 12 hours, Y/N would be back to her 9-5 job being an assistant to a high-class executive of a finance company. Her boss had too much authority for being so irresponsible and more money than anyone would need in a lifetime. What a luxury it must be to have your dad pass down a company you didn’t know how to run down to you.

Her boss wasn’t a horrible person, he was quite respectful and kind when asking her to do tasks, he was just a very exploitative executive. He had learned from his father to be unbending and demanding.

Y/N’s work paid a good wage, enough for her to pay her bills and still have a bit left. She wasn’t one to buy luxuries, though, preferring to save money up so she could one day quit her 9-5. And then dedicate herself to the things she did every day after work: picked up her red electric guitar, adorned a black skirt that bordered on too short, and perform for (currently small) crowds of people who cheered her band on as they played.

There wasn’t anything Y/N loved quite as much as the rush of being on stage, the bass making the stage shake with each loud thrum, sticks clashing with plates of a drum and the velvet voice of an angel, Harry singing through the microphone and his eyes on her and her fingers moving over the fret of the guitar.

They played small clubs and rundown bars, getting payed a poor wage for the extrenous effort used to get four adults with full time jobs to align their schedules in order to rehearse. Sometimes all they got were free drinks, but they took what they could get and did it for the love of it.

That was how they got here, on Harry’s couch, his arm draped around her shoulders, and her head on his chest. They were watching Bluey, the way they did most nights they spent together. He would always roll his eyes when Y/N suggested it, pretending to hate it, but she knew it was his favorite show, and he always cried at the emotional episodes.

Their instruments lay forgotten on the table, his blue guitar next to her red one, as they’d spent most of the afternoon drinking beer and writing a new song.

It was a question that had been lingering in the back of Y/N’s mind, and she wasn’t quite sure why she chose that moment to blurt it out, but she did. “Are you going to propose soon?”

Harry’s gaze turned to her, eyebrows raised in light surprise, a small breath exhaled between his lips in a faint chuckle. “What?”

It was too late to take it back, so Y/N sat up and told him, “You’ve always talked about wanting to settle down and get married.” His features remained in small confusion. “We’ve been together for a while. Are you going to marry me?”

“Well, of course I’m going to marry you,” Harry said, like it were some scientific fact that everyone knew and was unchangeable. “You’re my forever, baby. I’ve written about a hundred songs about it.” His lips turned up in a smile. That smile he wore every time he told her he loved her, with a cocky and smug edge as if he were teasing her, laced with affection.

“I don’t mean we have to get married this instant, but I just, I guess we’ve never talked about if we were getting engaged or when and I-“

“Baby,” Harry cut off her nervous rambling, chuckling. He kissed her, soft lips with cracked edges from the cold and dry weather. “I already know what ring I’m going to buy. I’m just saving up for it.”

Y/N’s mind blanked for a moment. “You’re already thinking about rings?” Her lips parted in surprise.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, silly girl. You’re not the only one thinking about marriage.” He smiled at her, reassuring her that he was just teasing. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, still in shock. Here she was, getting all nervous and insecure about marriage and he had already been planning to propose. Her question now seemed a bit foolish. She looked up at him and said, “You know I don’t need some needlessly expensive ring, right? You could buy it on Aliexpress and I couldn’t care less.”

Harry looked at her with slight amusement. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said with a small nod. “It’s stupid to spend money on a ring when it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

Harry sighed. “Baby, it’s not about the ring being expensive. It’s about the ring being a symbol for my devotion to you. And I want my devotion to be apparent in the beauty of it.” He tapped the finger on her left hand where the ring would lay. “No, I don’t have to spend money on an expensive ring. That’s why I’m not just getting a huge diamond. I’m getting something you’ll love.”

“But it’s expensive and it’s a waste of money on a simple ring-“

“Is it just a ring? Or is it a symbol of matrimony, of us being together forever?” Harry said gently, correcting her statement. “Not to mention you’re going to be wearing that ring every day ‘till you die.”

Y/N made a sound of contradiction. “Unless we get a divorce.”

Harry stared at her blankly for a few moments. He deadpanned, “Not funny.”

“Kinda funny,” Y/N said with a small smile.

She waited for Harry’s stern gaze to soften with adoration the way it always did. It only took a few moments for his composure to crumble and he leaned in close to her. His nose grazed against hers as he muttered quietly, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

The way he said it sounded like a declaration of love. Everything he said to her did. Because his love could never be called in to doubt. It shone through every word he uttered, every song he wrote, every thing he did.

His lips locked onto hers once again, the tension in his muscles melting away as if all he needed to feel complete was to be pressed against her. To have every inch of skin surrounding her, the taste of beer still on her tongue, and the scent of spring enveloping his senses.

“I’m going to marry you,” Harry uttered, an oath murmured against her lips before placing a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her close once again.

[silkythewriter]

Angel on fire

Warnings!: Angst(?), love triangle!, sorry for any grammar or spelling errors! (part 2)

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel!

Author note!: WOWZA HELLO I DIDNT THINK PEOPLE WOULD LIKE THE 1ST ONE SO MUCH?! TYSM FOR TGE SUPPORT I HOPE YOU ENJOY!

Summary!: “you are as beautiful as the moon my dear.” He said with the sweeting smile you adored. “And your as deadly as the sun I fear, my love” you answered oh so bitter-fully.

★三★三★ミ★ミ★三★三★三★ミ★三★ミ★ミ

“Cause those are my words, not yours

As far as I'm concerned, it could've been a lot worse

I wasn't trying to avoid the confrontation

She isn't crying, she's just making conversation”

★三★三★ミ★ミ★三★三★三★ミ★三★ミ★ミ

“Look.. Adam-“ you said desperately before being cut off “no fucking way!” He chuckled “your actually side-ing with those shit bags?!” He said looking at you. You only glared at him, before huffing softly “watch your language…” You said with a with a small frown. Making his eyebrows crunch together as he closed his eyes with a huff. “For fuck sake do you know what those.. scums even did to end up there!” He said angrily. You steady your breath, with him you had too, you knew how he was but you just had too keep poking at him. Or get something other then a no, If you did you were sure to lose your mind.

“Adam, Just listen!, I think this could benefit heaven as well! More extra time means more time to do what you want. Wouldn’t you like that?” You tried reasoning as you cupped his hands in yours only for him to push it away. “Don’t test me Y/n, this is my job.” He spat out, making you wince. “Why are you pushing on this so hard anyways!, you have all you could want here. You barely have to lift a finger why are you so concerned for them?” He said crossing his arms. “They were humans once Adam, just like you, just like me. We’re no different, they just messed up once and we’re sent to an eternal furnace with no escape!” You said holding your hands to your chest. “Please! I’m nothing like them, I was the first fucking human soul in heaven, no one compares to me.” He laughed out. “So what does that mean about me?” You said with furrowed brows. He sighed heavily before speaking “Angel, listen to your self, your the only other person I really give a shit about. Well other then lute I guess” he shrugged as he rested his arm on the arm rest and laid his head in his palm boredly. “Look don’t worry your little gorgeous self about a thing. This ain’t your field!” He laughed.

You had patience, and you had tolerance. But his disrespect set you off. But you knew in your head that fighting someone like himself wouldn’t end well. You already had more leeway then most due to your, well close relationship with Adam. But you had to keep trying, after all angels don’t break promises.

With a heavy sigh you bowed before excusing your self. Which he quickly called out to you in confusion. But you only kept walking to your room, you were a patient one, but dealing with him proves to be a handful. You needed to think of a way to at least push it back one more month.

Just one more month

★三★三★ミ★ミ★三★三★三★ミ★三★ミ★ミ

“What’s good cherry pimp” Angel dust asked as he threw himself on the couch sluggishly. “All day you’ve been hummin’ and tappin’ what’s on your mind?” He asked as he quirked an eyebrow up as he put his gaze on Alastor. Alastor smile only grew, his mind filled with your intoxicating self. To him you very much everything, from the first day he was damned, till now all his mind was filled was you. But now more then ever, seeing you after all these decades was a shot of electricity to his very dead heart. You hadn’t change a bit since the last time he laid eyes on you. You were still angelic as ever.

Again he was swept up in his mind but quickly flicked back to reality, swaying softly as he hummed. “Oh nothing, my dear friend, old acquaintances I have recently seen after some time!” He said in his usual radio voice. “Yea I’m surprised anyone would be friends with you. Not to be rude or nothin’ but your fuckin’ creepy pal” angel said as he laughed  as he waved his hands. Alastor only smirked in amusement as he took his leave. 

He should have known someone of the likes of you would end up where most wouldn’t. He wasn’t an ounce surprised. But he wanted you back, and he was going to take what he wanted. He didn’t frankly care if you’d belong to the sky,

You were his angel first. And he’d rid those little wings of yours if it meant you were to never fly Away from him.

Not this time, not again

★三★三★ミ★ミ★三★三★三★ミ★三★ミ★ミ

You tiredly tapped your finger over the dinner table. Mind still racing with ideas, it was a cycle, coming up with something, but ultimately crossing it off the thinking board. Adam paid no mind for awhile as he chatted Away with Lute. Which was eyeing you suspiciously. And once Adam went back to his meal she quickly cleared her throat as she straighten her stance next to Adam “Miss Y/n, you haven’t touched your food.” She stated bluntly. Which made you snap out of thought as you turned you attention to her “I’m afraid I don’t have an appetite today” you said softly pushing the plate stacked with food away form you.

“Are you really still hung up on that stupid shit little miss princess of hell proposed?” He scoffed. Causing you to huff, “I’ll be taking my leave.” You said plainly but as nicely as you could as you backed you seat from the table and stood up causing him to grunt. “Look angel, if I think about pushing the damn extermination back would you drop this?” He said making you quickly turn to him with a smile and nod. “There’s that smile, now sit down and eat I’m tired of thinking of all of this” he said as you agreed taking a seat.

Lute was appalled at how… how quick it was was all agreed. How could he just push it back so easily? Even if it was just him “thinking” about it. And for no reason other then you?, all though Adam was to In-grossed in his own things to question such things. She did not and quickly grew suspicious, you out of all people should be less worried. You have everything in a silver platter yet you still seem to have such a worry in matters that weren’t concerning you in the first place.

You could feel her eyes staring you down. But her suspicions were very much valid even if unfortunate to your case. You’d have to be more careful, if she caught on, she’d be quick to make Adam question aswell.

You cursed yourself slightly but still happy non the less. Even if you got Adam to consider the possibility of pushing the date back was still a progress!.

You were sure to tell Charlie soon, although you’d have to wait till lutes suspicions and stares would die down so you could slip away.

Your patience were never ending, but oh how much you longed for the man you’ve last seen years ago.

★三★三★ミ★ミ★三★三★三★ミ★三★ミ★ミ

TYSM FOR READING AH I LOVED WRITING THIS AGAIN TYSM FOR THE LOVE ON NY LAST POST, ILL BE SURE TO WORK ON SOEM REQUEST BUT PLEASE BE ASSURED PART 3 WILL BE POSTED AFTER I DO SOME REQUEST. ٩(ᐛ)و

[oizysian]

Part I: Looking Out For You

I Set the World on Fire masterlist

Warnings: blood, death, murder, sex

Word count: 4.3k

About Five Years Ago

She completely surrounded me. She was on top of me, around me, inside me, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. She was the love of my life and we were going to start a family together soon - or at least that’s what I imagined. My imagination ran wild especially when she was fucking me so lovingly, so deep and so hard that I could almost feel her inside of my mind, completely consuming me.

Her strap filled me up completely, stretching me out so impossibly far that I struggled to take her fully.

“You can take it, detka, I know you can.” She whispered in my ear, pressing her lips to my neck and letting her teeth graze against the sensitive skin there.

“Unh, W-Wanda,” I moaned softly, wrapping my arms around her tightly and pulling her close, my legs already linked around her hips and holding her as close as humanly possible. “S’too much.”

Her lips went from my neck, upwards towards my own lips, where she wasted no time in swallowing my whimpering moans as she kissed me. She pounded into me, the small, rickety bed creaking with her powerful thrusts. She knew what I needed, and when and how I needed it. She knew how to make my body sing when she touched me, and I trusted her with every fiber of my being.

“Sis!” Pietro’s voice boomed from behind the closed door, his fist pounding upon the old wood. “We’ve got a job! Finish up or I’ll finish it for you!”

“Shut up, idiot!” She called back to him, her fists balled up beside either side of my head, gripping the sheets as she fucked me, hard and fast.

“Wanda,” I whined, slightly put off by the fact that Pietro had heard and interrupted us. “Kiss me.”

She looked down into my eyes and smiled, bringing her head down and capturing my lips with her own in a passionate kiss. This was everything I needed in life. If we had our own place, it would’ve been ideal, but having her, like this, was everything I ever wanted.

“I’m going to cum, detka. Are you close?”

I nodded and she pressed her forehead against my own as she balanced herself on her elbow, bringing her other arm down so she could play with my clit. She rubbed tight circles along my throbbing bundle of nerves, sending jolts of electricity throughout my body. I felt my orgasm approaching as she continued to touch me with her magical fingers, my brows knitting together as the coil within me tightened and then suddenly released. I dug my nails into her shoulders as I came on her cock, her own high rushing through her as she finished pounding me into the bed, panting softly against my neck as she laid down on top of me, still inside me.

“You did so good for me, malyshka.” She said as she peppered kisses all along my jaw, grabbing my face with her clean hand and pulling me towards her, where she captured my lips once more in a searing kiss.

“Let’s go, Wanda! We don’t have all day!” Pietro called out again and I saw her roll her eyes at his words and at his impatience.

“Alright, alright.” She grumbled softly, kissing me again before sliding herself out of me. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Don’t go fucking again! We don’t have the time.”

“Shut the fuck up, Piet!” She finally yelled at him as she got up off the bed, undoing the harness around her hips and sliding it off.

I laid where she left me, my own cum dripping down my thighs and ruining the sheets beneath me. She leaned over the bed to kiss me again, smiling at my blissed out state.

“I wish I could stay and clean you up.” She ran her fingers down my cheek to my clavicle, then towards my breasts where she played with my nipple until it was a hardened bud under her touch.

“I wish you could too.” I whispered back to her, saddened by the fact that she had to leave so soon.

“I’ll be back before you know it, okay? This job should be pretty quick.” She leaned down again to press a kiss to my forehead and then walked over to the closet to get her clothes out.

I propped myself up on my elbows and watched her, her bare ass and back on display for me as she picked out her outfit.

“What do you have to do?”

“Same old, same old.” She said as she pulled out her usual black attire, looking over it before draping the dark shirt and jeans over a nearby chair. “We go in, I talk, Pietro takes, and we leave.”

My brow furrowed at her words. I didn’t really like the fact that she went on these ‘jobs’ with her brother. I worried for both of them, but she was my girlfriend, and I didn’t want her out there doing these things for a living. It was dangerous and they were playing games with people that wouldn’t think twice to have them hurt or worse.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” I whispered softly, my eyes leaving her body to look at the floor, which had suddenly become very interesting.

She sighed, facing me and coming to sit on the edge of the bed, her hand resting upon my bare thigh.

“I know, detka. One day it won’t be like this, I promise.”

She gave me a small smile and a squeeze before getting up again, grabbing her clothes and heading into the bathroom to get dressed.

I sighed softly, grabbing the blankets from the foot of the bed and wrapping them around me as I laid down again. I’d clean the sheets before Wanda got home so she’d have fresh sheets to sleep on tonight. Right now, I just couldn’t bring myself to move.

She came out a few moments later, dressed in her black clothing with her dark makeup on and her signature rings. She smiled at me and walked back over to the bed once more, pressing another kiss to my forehead before walking out of the room. I could hear Pietro bitching at her as they made their way to the entrance of our small apartment, and I kept my eyes on the closed bedroom door until I heard the front door shut and lock behind them. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding when I registered the fact that I was alone. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I laid in our shared bed, wondering if this would be the last time I saw her.

It was hours later when I heard the door creak open and I realized I had fallen asleep. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and saw Wanda at the foot of the bed with a large bag.

“Wanda?” I questioned softly, sitting up against the headboard and watching as she moved around to my side of the bed in the darkness.

She flicked on the lights and the room was flooded with brightness. I squinted and looked up at her smiling face.

“Detka,” she lifted the sack up and went to flip it over, spilling its contents all over the bed. “We did it.”

I watched in disbelief as money poured out of the burlap sack, hundreds upon hundreds fell on top of my lap.

“Oh my god, Wanda.” I said, grabbing handfuls of the cash, unable to believe it was real. “Where’d you get all of this?”

“The job we just pulled.” She sat next to me, still smiling. “We just nabbed a whole bunch of drugs from some guys trying to pull one over on the family we’ve been working for.” Her smile widened. “We can finally get out of here, detka, just me and you.”

“What about Piet?” I asked, still stunned by the amount of money currently sitting on our bed.

“What about him? He got his cut. Now he can go whoring around in his own place.”

I stared at her a moment before leaping into her arms, happy tears streaking down my cheeks as I held her. This was the big break that we had been looking forward to. She let out a chuckle as she grabbed hold of me, lifting me up and kissing me fiercely.

“We’re gonna have everything we ever wanted now, malyshka. Everything you ever dreamed of having - you’ll have it.”

I smiled against her lips, looking into her deep green eyes and falling in love all over again.

With their brand new funding and newfound respect, Wanda and Pietro started their own little family, building their empire from the ground up. They recruited their old friends from the orphanage, Dimitri and Leo, and of course they had made other acquaintances while doing various jobs for various people, so they were able to make quick connections and establish themselves in record time. Everything seemed to be going well for them; they were finally in a position of power, working for and making a name for themselves. But, Pietro was a bit of a hothead and easily made enemies.

She got the call at around two in the morning. We had been sleeping, her body cocooned around my own, her fingers entwined with mine as her work phone went off.

“Ignore it,” I whispered into the darkness, and she pressed a kiss to my shoulder as she rolled over, searching for the annoying device. “Baby, c’mon,” I whined. “It’s cold without you.”

“I know, but this could be important.” She said as she grabbed the phone from under our clothes that had been thrown on the floor and sat down next to me, patting my ass gently. “Hello?”

I rarely listened in on her conversations, but after a few minutes, she was eerily quiet. I tried to hear the person on the other line, but heard nothing. Curiosity got the best of me and I rolled over to see Wanda staring off into space, her phone discarded on her lap, still open, and tears cascading down her cheeks.

“Baby,” I was instantly alert, sitting up and taking hold of her hand. “Baby, what happened?”

She inhaled shakily before finally letting her eyes fall to mine, her tears showing no signs of stopping.

“Piet. H-he’s …” She swallowed roughly. “They found him .. dead.” She let out a gut wrenching sob and fell into my arms.

I held her as she cried, unable to even fathom what she had said. Pietro was dead? I knew I couldn’t ask questions because she probably had no answers and was in no condition to answer them anyway, so I just held her. Tears fell from my own eyes as we sat in the darkness of our apartment, her cries tearing me apart. He was all she had and now she had nothing left from Sokovia.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them!” She screamed, gripping my arms as I held her. “I’m gonna kill them all!”

“Wanda, shh.” I pressed a kiss to her head and pulled her against me, trying my hardest to comfort her even though I knew there would be no comfort in anything I said or did from now on.

“Pietro … I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She sobbed, practically falling limp in my arms.

She had all but collapsed, and eventually her cries subsided. She lay motionless in my embrace, her soft sniffles the only sound in our room. I pet her hair with a shaky hand, glad that she was finally calm, but not knowing what to do from here on out. Life would be different without Pietro - for both of us.

It was weeks of random breakdowns and outbursts before she came home late one night, covered in blood.

“Wanda!” I cried at the sight of her, frightened that the blood had been hers. “My god, what happened?”

“Pietro.” She said softly as I approached her, taking her face in my hands. “I finally found the one that … did it.”

“Wanda …” I didn’t know what I could possibly say to her.

Her eyes finally met mine and she looked haunted, changed like a war veteran and it sent a chill down my spine. I held her face in my hands for a moment longer before throwing myself into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. What a foolish thing she had done, going after the one that killed Pietro; what a dangerous, foolish thing. It took her a moment to respond, but she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me tightly, and I felt her take a deep breath against me.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” I said softly, realizing we were now both covered in some dead man’s blood.

I pulled away from her and took hold of her hand, walking her slowly towards the bathroom. I was afraid that any sudden movements would set her off, and god only knew what she would do in the condition she was in.

Inside the bathroom, I undressed her and started the bath, regulating the water so she could get in and get cleaned up. Once she was situated inside the warmth of the water, I took her clothes and put them in a garbage bag. I would dispose of them tomorrow. I returned to the bathroom to find the water a reddish hue, and her face stained with streaks of tears.

“My love,” I knelt down next to the tub, grabbing the washcloth off the edge of the tub and getting it wet. “I’m gonna take care of you. It’s all going to be okay.”

She sniffled softly and nodded as I put a dollop of soap on the cloth and began washing her bloody, dirty, body. She had no visible wounds that I could see, which I was thankful for, but she was suffering in a way that I had no way of healing. I didn’t know what to do for her other than just be there and take care of her the best I could. I feared it wouldn’t be enough.

Present Day

“Dimitri told me he noticed someone following you around the shops the other day.” Wanda said as we ate breakfast together.

I shrugged slightly.

“I didn’t really notice. I always have someone following me.”

She hummed softly as she sipped her coffee, her eyes falling to the newspaper on the table.

“You should probably pay attention.”

“It’s not my job.” I snapped and she narrowed her eyes at me, clearly annoyed.

“No, but it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“That’s what you have Dimitri and Leo following me around for.” I grumbled. “I can’t even go to the bathroom in peace when I’m out.”

“Would you rather they not be there and something happening to you?”

My eyes fell to my untouched plate of food and I shook my head.

“No.” I said under my breath.

“What was that?”

“No.” I repeated, finally lifting my head to look at her.

She was sitting across from me, smug as all hell, knowing that I was wrong in complaining about being followed by her guards. After Pietro was killed, things changed, and if I ever went out without her, which was often, I had to be followed by one of them. She didn’t take risks like she used to. She controlled everyone and everything. If it couldn’t be controlled, she would break it until it could be or she would get rid of it.

“Don’t go out for a while.” She put her cup down and stood from her seat. “I trust Dimitri. If he says someone was following you, someone was following you.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, leaning my head on my hand and sighing at her words. I was just another thing for her to control nowadays. How I wished for the days when we were young, when we were carefree and wild. Before … well, before Pietro died.

No, he didn’t die. He was murdered. Which then led Wanda to becoming a murderer herself. God knows how many people she had killed or killed herself over the years to get where she was now. At first it bothered me; I worried for her safety and for her sanity, but now I realized that it was just a part of her. She kept her hands clean nowadays, but she still was responsible for the disappearances of quite a few people.

“What am I supposed to do if I can’t go out?” I asked, sadness in my voice.

“Well,” she started, fixing her outfit. “You can come into my office and suck my cock while I make some calls.”

“That’s all you want me for - for your pleasure.”

“Do you think I can feel it when you suck off my plastic dick?” She snapped. “No, after you get it nice and wet I plan on fucking you in all of your holes until I’m satisfied.” She let out a huff. “Or until you’re completely blissed out.”

I didn’t understand her desire to fuck me until I couldn’t think anymore. But I know she liked it when I was being controlled by her, my pleasure, my pain completely in her hands. Rarely did she get herself off when she was in one of those moods, focusing completely on me. Maybe there was a part of her that still loved me and wanted me to feel pleasure and love from her, or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part. Wanda was a cruel woman, and whatever her reasons were to do what she did were purely selfish, whether or not I knew what she was getting out of it.

She turned her back on me and began walking off towards her office when I finally spoke again.

“I’m leaving.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, but kept her back to me.

“I just told you -”

“No, Wanda,” I interrupted her. “I’m leaving you.”

She was silent and I held my breath as the silence between us filled the room. I could almost hear her heavy breaths as she turned to face me, her green eyes dark and filled with rage.

“You’re what?” Her voice was dangerous and low.

“I’m … leaving you.”

Her steely look cracked and she smiled, letting out a cold laugh.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

I gritted my teeth, my jaw clenching as I stared back at her. I didn’t think leaving would be easy, as a matter of fact, I expected her to put up a fight, but I wouldn’t back down.

“Yes I am. I’m going to stay in our old apartment for a while. I know you still rent it, I’m not stupid.”

Hurt flashed across her features and I realized I might have gone too far bringing up our old place. I knew that she kept it because it was the last place she and Pietro lived together, and even though it was vacant, she kept up with utilities and maintenance so it would be in livable condition.

“Fine.” She snarled at me, waving me off. “Go.”

I let out the breath I was holding and watched as she stormed off. Wanda was never one to chase anything, especially in her current position of power, so I knew I wouldn’t be any different. She expected me to come crawling back to her - but I wouldn’t.

I also knew that she would be sending either Dimitri or Leo to stalk me while I spent time away from her. She would never truly let me go, not really.

I got up from the table, pushing my seat out and rushing off towards our shared room. Despite how tense and angry we both became, we stayed near each other, sleeping together, even making love, if you could call it that.

I made it to our room, throwing together my clothes and finding a suitcase in one of the closets, I got ready to leave. I knew that I didn’t really want to leave her. I just wanted her to need me, to miss me, to love me. But she never would. Never again.

Tears flowed down my cheeks as I packed, stuffing everything in the suitcase haphazardly, just wanting to get out of there. This house was no longer a home, it was hell.

I rushed down the stairs, dragging my suitcase behind me and approached the front doors, where Leo was already waiting. With a defeated sigh, I nodded and he took my bag, leading me out to the car that was already ready to go. She was predictable.

I sat in silence as Leo drove us back to the old neighborhood, tears still flowing freely as we made our way there. The drive was quick, maybe forty minutes with no traffic, and I couldn’t wait to get inside the apartment and just sleep. We parked out front and Leo took my suitcase out of the trunk, lugging it up the stairs after me. When we made it to the front door, I realized I didn’t have the key to get in, so I stepped aside and, surprise surprise, Leo had it. We entered wordlessly, and I was damn near speechless at the sight of the place. It was like it had been frozen in time. All of Pietro’s things were still here, untouched, and even some of our old things were here.

“Wanda …” Leo started as he placed the suitcase down on the ground near the couch. “She really does care about you, you know.”

I sighed sadly, knowing that if Leo could see it, it must’ve been obvious. But clearly not obvious enough to Wanda herself.

“Yeah,” I sniffled, walking over to the fridge and seeing that it was completely empty. “Guess we gotta go get some food.”

“I’ll go.” He said, making his way towards the door. “She, uh, gave me a list of things you like.”

My heart fluttered at his words. She had really done that? Of course she had. Control freak Wanda. I sighed and nodded at his words, watching wordlessly as he left. I grabbed the suitcase from beside the couch and dragged it into our old bedroom. I was hit with memories as I entered the room, the familiar smell of us flooding my senses. I brought the suitcase to the closet and started unpacking.

After a few moments of putting my shirts on hangers, I heard the front door creak open.

“What happened, Leo? You forget something?” No response.

Odd. I placed whatever clothing I had in my hand back into the suitcase and went back into the living room, noting the now closed door and the slight chill indicating that the door had indeed been opened recently.

“I finally got you alone.”

I spun around, clutching at my chest as I faced the intruder in my apartment.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“That isn’t very polite of you.” The blonde woman said, a smile on her face as she sat on my couch.

I looked around frantically, looking for a weapon of any kind to defend myself with. She must’ve picked up on this because as I launched myself at a nearby cabinet, she was on top of me, pinning me between her and the wooden cabinets behind me.

“What do you want?” I asked helplessly, wishing that I hadn’t left Wanda after all.

“First of all, I want you to calm down. I’m not going to hurt you, dekta.”

“Don’t call me that.” I snapped at her and she smiled.

“You’re feisty. I like that. I can see what she sees in you.”

I wriggled in her embrace and she let out a laugh, pressing herself against me.

“You’re getting me excited.”

“Get the fuck off of me!”

She grabbed me by my face and held me still, looking me over briefly before speaking again.

“Relax. I’m a friend of Wanda’s.” At her words, I tensed up.

“You’re lying.” I cried, trying to free myself from her grasp. “Wanda doesn’t have any friends.” I whispered, mostly to myself, and she smiled.

“You’re right. But, she has you.” She brought her face close to mine, our noses almost touching. “Or, she had you.”

“Let me go!” I yelled, trying my hardest to free myself from her iron grasp.

Her hand gripped at my face tighter, and she pressed her weight down against me further, and I almost felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“What do you want?” I asked again, her deep, darkened eyes staring back into mine.

“What do you think I want?”

“I don’t know!” I cried, my eyes shifting towards the door, hoping against hope that Leo would show up.

“Are you waiting for someone? Your guard dog, perhaps?”

My heart stopped at her words. Had something happened to Leo because of me?

“He’s been … detained.”

“What have you done to him?”

“Nothing - yet. Nothing if you agree to come with me quietly.”

“W-what? Why?”

She grit her teeth, her jaw clenching in frustration.

“You ask a lot of questions, little one. I promise all your questions will be answered, as long as you come with me.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and thought for a second. She knew about Wanda and Leo, and I wasn’t dead, so who could she be? Was she working for someone Wanda knew? Was she -?

“I see those wheels turning in your head. Let’s do it this way then.” She huffed. “If you don’t come with me, I’ll slice your guard dog’s throat wide open and send his eyeballs to your mistress.” My eyes widened at her words. “Then, I’ll visit her personally and -”

“No!” I cried. I’d do anything to protect Wanda, even though I was sure if she could get close enough to Wanda to kill her, she would’ve done it already.

“Then you’ll come.”

I swallowed roughly and she smiled, seeing my resistance fade.

“It’s for the best. I really like this outfit - wouldn’t want to ruin it with Sokovian blood.”

•

@marvelogic @casquinhaa @mathxa @oh-thats-cute @ornorr @milkeeteaa @souanick

[hd-junglebook]

"Hey Sugar"

-said with rizz

Luke Hughes x F!Reader, Trevor Zegras x Reader (platonic)

Masterlist Link

a:n I had so much fun writing this, I'm literally already starting part 2 because I can't wait to get Lukes's story started. Young dad over here. This part is just a bunch of flirting, can you blame y/n?

Warnings: throuple jumpscare, angry ex girlfriends, flirting, alcohol, maybe cursing, suggestive flirting

Summary: The story begins with you at a party with your close group of friends. Simmering sexual tension crackles between you and Luke, building through flirtatious banter and charged dancing.

Word Count - 5450

Part 1

It was one of those classic house parties - the kind where the music thumped through the walls and the smell of stale beer and desperation hung thick in the air. You sidled through the crowd, dodging wandering hands and spilled drinks, scanning the familiar faces for your crew.

Finally, you spotted them crammed onto a sagging couch in the living room, laughing raucously at something one of them had said. Making your way over, you plonked down next to your best friend Jessica.

"Hey! You made it!" she shouted over the music, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "Y/N, this is Luke. Luke, y/n."

You turned to find the source of the deep, gravelly chuckle beside you. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met Luke's - a pair of piercing brown pools that seemed to stare straight through you. A lopsided grin played at his full lips as he extended a hand.

"Nice to meet you," he said smoothly.

The party raged on around you - bodies gyrated to the rhythmic bass line, red plastic cups sloshed with cheap booze, and a thick hermetic heat radiated from the mass of people. But in that moment, the chaos seemed to fade away as you studied Luke's face, feeling your cheeks flush under his intense yet playful gaze.

You swallowed hard, Lady Gaga singing about love over the speakers suddenly feeling all too appropriate. "Likewise," you managed with a nervous laugh, taking his hand.

An electric jolt shot through you at the contact, his calloused palm rough against your skin. You quickly pulled away, hoping the dim lights concealed your reddening face.

And just like that, the spark was lit. As the night wore on, you and Luke traded increasingly outrageous jokes and stories, your friends looking on with delight at the undeniable chemistry.

The party blurred into a dizzying kaleidoscope - the acrid smoke burning your nostrils, the relentless thrum of music in your bones, and the warm press of bodies all around. Yet through it all, you remained hyper-aware of Luke's proximity, his rich laugh and musky scent enveloping you like a cozy blanket.

Every accidental touch, be it a graze of the arms or bump of the knees, set your skin tingling with electricity. The few times your hands brushed, it felt like an exposed live wire.

You could have sworn you saw his gaze linger a little too long whenever you tossed your head back in laughter, swiping away a rogue strand of sweat-damp hair from your flushed face.

"Oh my god, y/n, we need to grab you a drink - stat!" Your friend Maggy grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the couch area with a conspiratorial look. Jessica trailed behind, her perfectly arched brows raised knowingly.

You let them drag you into the chaos of the kitchen, dodging half-naked bodies and heaps of abandoned solo cups. Maggy was a force of nature - her wild crimson curls bouncing as she maneuvered the crowd with ease.

"Okay, spill!" she demanded once you reached the relative safety of the counter. Jessica busied herself fixing you a vodka cran, her slim fingers deftly working the sticky bottles.

Maggy smoothed her short ruffled dress over her curvy hips. "Don't tell me you've fallen for Hughes' charms already?"

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where this was headed. "It was just some harmless flirting, Mags. I can handle myself."

"That's what they all say..." she warned with a shake of her head, making her diamond studs dance. "I've heard the stories, y/n. That man is a bonafide panty-dropper."

Scoffing, you swiped the proffered drink from Jessica and took a defiant sip. "Well then it's a good thing I'm not wearing any panties tonight."

The three of you dissolved into raucous laughter, drawing annoyed looks from the nearby beer pong champions. Once you recovered, you fixed Maggy with a reassuring smile.

"Look, you know the last thing I need right now is another relationship. Nick and I just ended things. I'm simply enjoying the flirtatious banter, that's all."

Maggy held up her hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm just looking out for you, babe. We all know how charming Luke can be."

"Don't worry," Jessica chimed in with a wink. "Our girl can handle herself."

With that, you allowed them to whisk you back towards the living room, drink in hand. But you pulled up short at the sight of Luke engaged in a heated exchange with a beautiful, irate-looking woman.

"You've got to be kidding me, Luke!" the woman hissed, her face contorted in anger. "First you go radio silent for weeks, and now I find you here making moves on fresh meat?"

Luke? You shot a panicked look at your friends who seemed just as confused. Luke, however, appeared unfazed by the confrontation. A slight smirk played at the corner of his lips as he slowly looked the woman up and down.

"Relax, Amanda. You know how this works between us. We were over a long time ago," he stated coolly, taking a swig from a bottle of beer.

Amanda opened her mouth to retort, but seemed to notice your presence for the first time. Her icy glare landed on you as she sized you up with disdain.

You watched with a mixture of confusion and fascination as the gorgeous but venomous Amanda stormed away from Luke. Before you could even process what was happening, she was suddenly in your face, eyes blazing with contempt.

"Listen here, you little homewrecker," Amanda spat, jabbing a precisely manicured nail into your shoulder. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay far away from my man."

Your friends tensed beside you, but before they could intervene, Luke was there - placing himself squarely between you and the irate woman. Up close, you could see the taut muscles in his back and shoulders straining against the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

"That's enough, Amanda," he said firmly, fixing her with a stern look. "We're not together anymore, in case you missed the memo. Multiple times."

"Oh, I got the memo loud and clear!" she retorted, throwing her hands up dramatically. "Doesn't mean I'm just going to stand by while you sow your oats all over town!"

Luke rolled his eyes so hard, you thought they might stick that way. He opened his mouth to respond, but seemed to think better of continuing this ridiculous showdown in front of an audience.

"You know what?" you interjected, hands up in surrender. "I'm just gonna remove myself from this situation."

Luke's brow furrowed in protest, but Amanda cut him off with a derisive laugh. "Yeah, that would probably be best, sweetie."

With that parting shot, you spun on your heel and made a beeline for the kitchen, needing to put some distance between yourself and the unstable ex-couple.

Your head was still spinning from the strange confrontation as you grabbed a fresh drink and settled into a miraculously empty couch in the corner.

"Wild night, huh?"

You startled at the unexpected voice beside you. A gangly, bespectacled guy around your age offered an awkward grin, clearly having witnessed the whole Amanda meltdown.

"You could say that," you replied with a rueful chuckle, scooting over to make room for him. "I'm Y/N."

"Trevor," he said, sticking out a clammy hand to shake. "Didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just got the best dinner and a show."

You couldn't help but laugh at his self-deprecating humor, feeling yourself instantly relax in his affable presence. Trevor had a dopey, teddy bear quality about him that put you at ease.

"So is that your girlfriend then? The one trying to claw your eyes out?" he asked with an amused snicker.

"God no!" you replied quickly, perhaps a little too emphatically. "I seriously just met that guy tonight. The crazy ex is all his."

Trevor's eyes widened comically behind his thick frames. "No shit? Well damn, Y/N, you really don't waste any time stirring up drama."

"Hey, I'm an innocent bystander here!" you protested with a laugh, giving his arm a playful shove.

He held up his hands in mock surrender, clearly emboldened by your easygoing banter. The two of you slipped into a conversational groove, chatting and laughing like old friends as the party raged on around you. You found yourself regaling Trevor with tales of your romantic exploits, your tongue rapidly loosening thanks to the alcohol.

"So to sum it up," you said, words starting to slur ever so slightly, "I did not come here looking for any more drama or dick after that whole Nick debacle."

Trevor very nearly did a spit-take with his beer at your crude candor. "Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, sweetie, but it sounds like both drama and dick found you tonight!"

You threw your head back with a raucous cackle at that. Leave it to Trevor to cut right through the tension with well-timed crass humor. You were really starting to like this guy.

"You know what?" you said, looping your arm chummily through his. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Trev."

…

"Y/N! Get your cute butt over here!" Maggy's voice sliced through the din as she waved you over to the makeshift dance floor.

You shot Trevor an apologetic shrug before letting your friend drag you into the sweaty mass of bodies. Jessica was there too, her eyes shamelessly roving over Trevor's lanky frame as he trailed behind.

"We've been watching you two lovebirds canoodling in the corner all night," Maggy shouted over the thumping bassline, giving your shoulder a playful nudge.

"Somebody's jealous they're not the center of attention for once," you teased back with an impish grin.

Maggy's cherry-painted lips curved into a Cheshire smile. "Please, I'm an eternal attention hog. And FYI, your dorky friend is kinda doing it for me."

You followed her gaze to where Trevor was awkwardly bobbing his head to the beat, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He offered a small, lopsided smile when he caught you looking.

"Well what are you two harpies waiting for?" you challenged with a salacious wink. "Go get your man!"

With a raucous whoop, Maggy seized Jessica's hand and the two descended on the unsuspecting Trevor - a flurry of hair tosses, wiggling hips, and bright laughter. You watched the spectacle with unbridled amusement, letting the bass pump through your veins as you swayed your hips.

This was exactly what you needed - to let go and get gloriously lost in the music, surrounded by the frankly ridiculous antics of your nearest and dearest. You threw your head back, shutting out everything but the driving rhythm.

That's when you felt it - a solid chest pressing against your back, large hands skimming over your hips to settle at your waistline. You turned with a start to find Luke's heavily lidded eyes staring down at you, a rakish grin playing at his lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he murmured, words barely audible over the pounding speakers.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he simply shook his head and leaned in closer, his mouth a whisper from your ear.

"I didn't mean for Amanda to make such a scene back there," Luke said, his breath hot against your neck. "I didn't even invite her here, but...she always finds a way. It's..."

You turned slightly so your lips were nearly brushing his chiseled jaw as you finished the thought: "Complicated?"

A low chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest as Luke nodded almost imperceptibly. "Exactly. Complicated."

One of his hands trailed up the curve of your waist, leaving a searing trail in its wake until it came to rest at the nape of your neck. You shivered at the contact, equal parts electrified and apprehensive.

"What do you say we get out of here?" he purred, dipping his head so your noses were virtually touching.

You wanted so badly to give in - to lose yourself in those smoldering brown depths and see where this tempestuous night took you. But the memory of Amanda's feral snarl flashed behind your eyes, quickly snapping you back to reality.

"I...I can't," you managed to rasp, hating the way your voice trembled with longing. "I can’t leave my friends. They might rip Trevor to shreds if they’re not supervised."

Luke's eyes searched yours for a beat, likely trying to gauge your sincerity. You could practically see the thoughts churning behind those blazing irises as he processed your hesitation. After a weighted pause, his expression softened into something like resigned understanding.

"You're worried about leaving those knuckleheads unsupervised, huh?" he murmured, one side of those obscene lips quirking faintly.

Though Luke aimed for a teasing lilt, you caught the undercurrent of knowing behind his words. He understood, perhaps better than anyone, the tangled responsibility you felt towards maintaining harmony within your dysfunctional found family.

Swallowing hard, you gave a tight nod - hating how your throat still felt obstructed by the press of yearning. "Something like that, yeah.”

Rather than argue or attempt to sway you, Luke simply held your gaze for another few suspended heartbeats. You waited with bated breath, half-expecting him to withdraw his heated proposition completely in favor of rejoining the main fray.

To your surprise, however, the pad of his thumb began tracing idle circles against the jut of your hipbone - calloused whorls raising delicious frissons across your sensitized skin.

…

The thunderous bass line reverberated through your bones as you swayed absently, still dazed from Luke's heated proposition. You were so lost in the lingering tingle of his phantom touch that you didn't notice your friends closing in until they were right on top of you.

"Earth to Y/N!" Maggy's raucous laughter pierced your stupor as she looped an arm around your shoulders. "Where'd you just go, girl? We've been watching you make heart eyes at McDreamy over there."

You blinked rapidly, struggling to refocus on Maggy's mischievous grin with Trevor and Jessica flanking her. The three of them looked like the cat that ate the canary as they not-so-subtly craned their necks toward Luke.

"I wasn't...we weren't..." you fumbled lamely, feeling heat bloom across your cheeks.

"Oh save it, we all saw that heavy flirtation!" Jessica crowed with a wiggle of her sculpted brows.

Trevor chuckled good-naturedly, giving your arm a consoling pat. "Hey, no judgment here, Y/N. I'd be a stuttering mess too if I had a stud like that whispering sweet nothings in my ear."

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, but couldn't quite suppress the giddy smile tugging at your lips. Leave it to your cadre of derelict besties to drag you out of an emotional spiral.

With a groan of mock exasperation, you shoved at Trevor's shoulder. "You're all ridiculous, you know that?"

"And you loooove us for it!" Maggy sang out as the first few lines of "Sandstorm" began thumping from the speakers.

She immediately launched into an embarrassingly enthusiastic dance routine, throwing shapes with reckless abandon. Trevor and Jessica were quick to join the absurdity, shouting the iconic intro at the top of their lungs while thrashing about uncoordinatedly.

"Oh my god, you idiots..." you huffed through a peal of laughter, shaking your head at their antics.

It was then that you noticed Luke watching the scene with undisguised amusement - a lopsided smirk playing at his lips as he clutched a beer loosely in one hand. His gaze met yours over the bouncing heads, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Suddenly, Maggy seized your wrists and yanked you into the fray with surprising strength. You stumbled clumsily into the center of their ridiculous mosh pit, nearly toppling Jessica in the process.

"Y/N! Get in here and get LOW!" Maggy hollered over the thunderous refrain, demonstrating a particularly lascivious body roll.

You couldn't help but cackle at the sheer silliness of it all - these beautiful disasters grinding outrageously as the bass threatened to shake the walls down around you. Even Luke was chuckling now, biting his full lower lip in an utterly delectable way.

"Like this?" you shouted back with a wink, dropping into as crude a dance as you could muster.

That sent your friends into a fresh gale of howls and wolf whistles, cheering you on like it was a damn Olympic sport. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Luke's intense stare tracking every roll and pop of your hips. The heated look in his eyes sent a delicious curl of desire unfurling low in your belly.

Before you could dwell too much on the implications, Jessica grabbed your arm and spun you around - purposefully flinging you in Luke's direction. You landed square against his solid chest with a tiny "oomph!", totally disoriented from the dizzying maneuver.

Large hands immediately bracketed your waist, steadying you as Luke threw his head back with a rich peal of laughter. You could feel the rumbling vibrato against your back as he tugged you more solidly against him.

"Careful there, sugar," Luke's gravelly timbre purred in your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive shell. "As much as I'm enjoying this dance routine, I'd hate for you to injure yourself on my watch."

You bit back a soft whimper at the feeling of his firm torso pressed against you, the scent of his sandalwood cologne utterly intoxicating. With your drunken bravado bolstered by your friends' raucous cheering, you leaned further back into his embrace.

"I don't know, big guy," you countered with a saucy grin over your shoulder. "I think you could handle me just fine."

Luke's eyes blazed at the obvious flirtation, his arms tightening fractionally around your middle. You could have sworn you felt his hips cant subtly against yours in time with the grinding bassline.

This charged dance continued for what felt like an eternity - your friends whooping and hollering in delight as you and Luke traded searing looks and teasing quips.

At one point, his hands drifted tantalizingly low on your hips, fingers splaying possessively. You retaliated by arching your back in a slow, filthy body roll that had his eyes darkening with naked want.

Just when you thought the tension might combust into something more, the song mercifully ended - leaving you both panting heavily with lingering desire. Trevor was the first to recover, clapping Luke heartily on the shoulder.

"Damn son, get a room why don't you?" he joked with a lopsided grin.

Luke merely chuckled darkly, finally releasing you from his iron grip so you could put some much-needed space between your overheated bodies. "Maybe next time, Trev," he shot back with a wink.

You busied yourself straightening your disheveled clothes, decidedly avoiding his molten gaze. But you couldn't deny the delicious new tension sparking between you.

"Hey, uh, not that this hasn't been a total blast and all..." Trevor piped up once you'd fully disengaged. "But I don't know about you hedonists, but I'm starving. Who wants to grab some late-night munchies?"

A raucous cheer went up from your breathless crew, with Maggy and Jessica readily agreeing. You opened your mouth to voice your assent when Luke cocked an inquisitive brow in your direction.

"You in, sugar?" His voice was midnight sin - rough and dripping with unspoken promises.

Something low in your abdomen clenched at the pet name, now inextricably linked to his heated stare and probing touch. Maybe it was the alcohol buzz, or residual adrenaline from your shameless grinding, but you found yourself nodding almost shyly.

Luke's answering grin was pure, predatory satisfaction. "Perfect. I know just the place."

…

The five of you made your way toward the exit with a chorus of giddy laughter, still riding the high of your dance-fueled flirtation. As you stepped out into the cool spring air, Luke fell into step beside you - though he kept a carefully measured distance between your bodies.

"I'm parked just up here," he said by way of explanation, gesturing vaguely down the darkened residential street. "That is, if you kids don't mind piling into my douchemobile?"

The teasing lilt in his tone made you huff out a laugh, still giddy with lingering adrenaline. "Only if you stop calling it that immediately and forever."

Luke threw you a rakish wink over the sloping muscles of his shoulder. "Whatever you want, love."

Trevor, Jess and Maggy trailed a few paces behind, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. You caught Maggy's pointed look in your direction and offered her a warning glare - though you were sure your flushed cheeks gave you away.

Sure enough, Luke's rumbling chuckle confirmed he'd borne witness to the silent exchange. The streetlamps cast his chiseled features in a warm amber glow as he slanted you an amused look. "I have a feeling I'm about to be interrogated by your overprotective friends, huh?"

You nibbled your lower lip self-consciously, considering your response. There was an undeniable spark between you - one that had been stoked higher with every heated look and lingering caress. The real question was whether you were brave enough to fan those flames further or risk getting burned.

Steeling yourself, you lifted your chin to meet his piercing brown stare head on. "Maybe. But I kind of like to make people sweat a little."

The remark clearly took Luke by surprise if his arched brow was any indication. But it was fleeting - that roguish half-grin quickly stretching across his kiss-stung lips.

"Is that so?" he rumbled in a tone that could only be described as molten sin. "Game on then, gorgeous."

You held his fiery gaze for a beat, letting the exhilarating tension build between you like a livewire. Only when the rest of the crew caught up did you finally tear your eyes away, turning to lead the group toward Luke's parked car.

The quiet streets seemed to amplify every sound - the crunch of loose gravel underfoot, the peal of distant laughter, your thundering pulse in your ears. You drew a steadying breath into your aching lungs, trying to center yourself amidst the storm of giddy adrenaline.

When you finally reached Luke's sleek black Mustang, he turned to the group with an almost apologetic quirk of his brow.

"She's not the roomiest ride, but we can make it work," he said, clicking the keyless remote to unlock the doors.

Jessica immediately scrambled into the front passenger seat with Maggy and Trevor piling into the backseat, leaving you and Luke to bring up the rear. He held the driver's door open in an exaggerated show of chivalry, one side of that delicious smirk quirking higher.

"After you, gorgeous."

You rolled your eyes at the pageantry, but couldn't resist shooting him a playful grin as you slid into the buttery leather interior. Luke followed close behind, the hot brand of his body heat prickling at your hyper-aware senses.

Once he'd maneuvered his large frame behind the wheel, he flashed you a Look from beneath those obscenely thick lashes. "You good?"

The simple question seemed layered with unspoken subtext, like he was silently gauging if you were ready to continue down this path of escalating tension and blatant flirtation. Were you?

You could have backed down, downshifted the energy into something more innocent and casual. But the memory of his firm hands on your hips, the hot scorch of his stare...your mind was made up.

"I'm good," you murmured back, holding his gaze unblinkingly as his eyes ignited with fresh interest. "Just tell me where to put my hands."

A muscle ticked in Luke's tensed jaw at the brazen double entendre, his nostrils flaring almost imperceptibly. You could practically see the war raging behind his blazing eyes - restraint battling with base desire.

Finally, he seemed to reign himself in with a huff of startled laughter, raking a broad hand through his tumbled curls. "Jesus, Y/N...I'm gonna have my work cut out for me with you."

The delicious promise in his gravelly timbre had your pulse kicking up another few notches. You wet your lips unconsciously, unable to tear your eyes from the searing heat of his stare.

"I'd apologize," you said, aiming for nonchalance but landing somewhere around breathless, "but I don't think either of us would mean it."

Perhaps it was the alcohol in your system, or the lingering high of the party thrumming through your veins. Whatever the reason, you were powerless to halt the breakneck freight train of flirtation between you two. And judging by Luke's molten countenance, the feeling was entirely mutual.

"Don't you worry, gorgeous," he rumbled, one side of those obscene lips quirking dangerously. "This is going to be fun."

With that tantalizing promise lingering like a heady cloud around you both, Luke finally started the ignition. The rumbling growl of the Mustang's engine was like a physical force pulsing through the car as you tore off into the night - laughing and shouting along with your friends.

The revelry continued as you wound through the darkened streets - one outrageous story segueing into another, punctuated only by riotous bouts of laughter. Maggy, as ever, was in rare form - dramatically reenacting an ill-advised tale involving a Thanksgiving turkey and far too much tequila.

Even Luke was in stitches by the end, so enraptured by the ridiculous saga that he swerved slightly on a tight curve. You cried out in surprise, bracing yourself instinctively against the solidness of his bicep. At your squawk, his gaze swung toward you - heavy-lidded and sparking with remnants of mirth.

"You alright, gorgeous?" he rumbled, that infuriatingly charming lopsided smirk back in place.

You aimed a petulant glare his way, but couldn't quite bite back an answering grin of your own. "Eyes on the road, hotshot. I'd like to make it to this mystery food destination in one piece."

Luke threw you a lazy wink, as if reading the lack of any genuine heat behind your words. "Don't worry, I've got great hands."

Your breath caught at the pointed innuendo as Jessica let out a scandalized gasp from the front seat - apparently eavesdropping on your hushed flirtation.

"Oh my GOD!" she crowed with delight, whipping around to face you with shining eyes. "You two are too much! When's the wedding?"

"I'm asking for a plus one," Maggy piped up from behind you with an audible smirk.

Leveling the both of them with a long-suffering look, you simply shook your head and settled deeper into the plush leather interior. Out of your peripheral vision, you caught Luke's answering eye roll - one corner of that lascivious mouth tugging higher.

...

For a while after, the inside of the growling Mustang lapsed into a companionable quiet. Your heart still hammered a staccato rhythm against your ribs, fueled by the lingering adrenaline and the heated promise in Luke's flinty stare.

Now that you were alone with him - temporarily freed from the raucous peanut gallery - the tension hummed between you like a livewire.

You felt him shift almost imperceptibly closer to you, the delicious warmth of his solid body ghosting along your side as he navigated the winding back roads.

He held the wheel in one large hand, his other arm draped casually along the center console - close enough for you to count the fine golden hairs dusting those corded forearms.

It would have been so easy then - to traverse that scant distance separating your bodies and slide your palm over his, to lace your fingers through his and seal this casual flirtation into something more. But you refrained, cognizant of your friends' continued presence just a breath away.

Still, you couldn't deny the delicious tension sparking between you and Luke. Nor could you ignore the way your body hummed in attuned response to his proximity, every molecule attuned to drinking him in.

A heavy silence had fallen over the car's occupants - the only sound the occasional burst of laughter from those in the backseat, quickly smothered under mutual hushing. Luke appeared singularly focused on the dark ribbon of road whipping by, his chiseled jaw tight and flickering in the intermittent glow of passing streetlamps.

Just when you thought the hot tension might calcify into something unbearable, he cleared his throat subtly. You startled at the quiet rasp, inclining your head slightly in acknowledgment as he slanted you a weighted look.

"So...Maggy seems delightful," Luke murmured dryly after a beat, their low timber thrumming through you. "Among other things."

You couldn't quite stifle the snort of laughter that bubbled up at his tactful observation. "That's one way to put it. Though I'd add 'loyal to a fault' in there too."

"Ah, so the protective smokescreen is merely for my benefit then?" he surmised with a sidelong glance, the barest quirk playing at those obscene lips. "Should I be insulted?"

Huffing out a rueful laugh, you shifted minutely closer to him - near enough to catch the cedar and smoke notes wafting from the open vee of his shirt.

"Definitely not," you assured him in a lowered tone, keeping your words confined to the intimate pocket between you. "If anything, you should feel fortunate. They don't extend that...dedicated brand of harassment to just anyone."

Luke seemed to digest this as he guided the Mustang around another tight bend, his jaw tensing almost imperceptibly before easing into an indulgent grin.

"Lucky me then," he rumbled after a beat, shooting you a Look from beneath those ridiculous lashes. "Should I be bracing myself for an interrogation?"

The sultry backnote in Luke's words hung heavy between you as the Mustang's growl filled the weighted silence. You were hyper-aware of each whisper of movement from him - every subtle flex of those chiseled forearms as he gripped the wheel, the shifting of corded muscle in his thighs as he worked the pedals.

It was enough to make your mouth go dry with longing.

You worried your lower lip, struggling to keep your thundering pulse in check as you murmured your response. "Well, if their interrogation tactics are anything like their dance moves, you'd better buckle up, Hughes."

The rich ramble of Luke's laughter seemed to reverberate through your very bones at the rejoinder. You stole a glance at the hard line of his smiling profile, bathed in the warm amber glow of the passing streetlamps.

"Is that a promise, gorgeous?" he countered without missing a beat, slanting you a Look from beneath those ridiculous lashes.

You held his molten stare for a heated heartbeat, caught like a moth in that blazing glare. Did he have any idea what he did to you with that stupid pet name and the sinful rasp of his voice? Probably, if the blatant flirtiness was any indication.

Before you could formulate a suitable retort, the sudden assault of bright neon lights up ahead shattered the electric tension. You blinked rapidly, struggling to read the flickering signs as Luke slowed the Mustang.

"This is the place," he explained as he smoothly guided the car into the near-empty parking lot. "Open 24 hours and right on the beach."

As he killed the engine, the overhead dome light bathed the car's interior in a warm halo of illumination. From this angle, you could make out the sharp planes of Luke's striking profile - that aristocratic nose, the razor cut of his stubbled jaw, and the artful sprawl of those ridiculous curls.

Good lord, the man was distractingly beautiful.

Any further appreciation was curtailed as the trio banged against the seat in a noisy clatter. You and Luke relented, pulling up the seats to free them. Maggy and Trevor came tumbling out in a gangly, graceless heap - seemingly having partaken in too much backseat horseplay if their breathless giggling was any indication.

"About time!" Maggy crowed dramatically once she'd righted herself. "I thought we'd be cruising the streets all night before Sir Lancelot here found a suitable dining establishment."

One dark brow arched elegantly over Luke's hooded eyes as he slanted her an imperious look. "I beg your pardon? This place is a fucking culinary treasure."

Jessica snickered indelicately, clearly gearing up to instigate whatever fresh hell was brewing. However, you opted to defuse the situation before it could fully detonate.

"Shall we, troops? I don't know about you animals, but I'm starving after all that..."dancing.""

The loaded pause and meaningful look you threw Luke didn't go unnoticed if his answering smirk was any indication. Egalitarian as ever, he merely chuckled and nodded towards the brightly-lit takeout counter in the distance.

"Lead the way, gorgeous."

…

Tag List <3

empty lol

[landoscarinthefastlane]

Never ending torture - Landoscar

Summary: After a full week of Lando incessantly singing “Our House” by Madness, Oscar is at the end of his rope. When a hotel mix-up forces them to share a room in Miami and Lando starts humming the song again, Oscar snaps.

Note⚠️: Contains swearing, aggressive kissing, and two idiots with too much unresolved tension.

“Our house, in the middle of our—”

It had been seven days. Seven.

Oscar had counted.

Seven mornings of Lando humming, whistling, tapping, or full-out singing the same goddamn song like he was being paid royalties for it. “Our House” by Madness. It started innocently enough—just a hum under his breath at breakfast in Shanghai, a nostalgic little chuckle as he bobbed his head along. Fine. Whatever. Oscar could tolerate a little retro British pop.

But it didn’t stop.

By the third day, Lando was performing it like a one-man jukebox musical—singing it in the shower, in the car to the track, in the fucking paddock.

Oscar had tried everything. Noise-canceling headphones. Blasting his own music in retaliation. Glares sharp enough to pierce carbon fiber. Nothing worked.

So when they got to Miami and were told—due to a last-minute hotel mix-up—they’d have to share a room for two nights, something in Oscar simply... cracked.

And now it was 11:48 p.m. The AC was humming. The lights were off. Oscar lay rigid in one of the two queen beds, blanket up to his chest, scrolling on his phone in the blue glow.

And across the room, Lando, who had just emerged from the bathroom with damp curls and a low-slung towel, began to hum it again.

“Our house, in the middle of our street—”

“Shut up.” Oscar’s voice was sharp. Immediate. A warning shot.

Lando laughed, not at all perturbed. “C’mon, it’s catchy.”

Oscar sat up, eyes wild. “You’ve been singing it for a week. Do you understand how close I am to ending you?”

Lando just grinned, towel now tossed aside for a T-shirt and boxers. “Bet it’s stuck in your head too, though.”

Oscar groaned, throwing himself back onto the bed. “You’re so—god—you’re so annoying.”

There was a long beat of silence, and Oscar hoped—prayed—that Lando had taken the hint. That maybe, miraculously, the madness (literally) was over.

Then softly, as if trying to be merciful but failing: “Our house, in the—”

That was it. That was the fucking final straw.

Oscar launched up from his bed, crossing the short space between them in seconds. Lando blinked in confusion as Oscar grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Oscar, wha—”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence.

Oscar kissed him.

No warning. No hesitation. Just fury and pent-up heat and weeks of coiled, buzzing tension snapping loose all at once.

It was a kiss that said shut up. That said you drive me insane. That said you’ve been under my skin since day one and I hate that I love it.

Lando made a startled noise against his mouth, hands bracing on Oscar’s chest like he wasn’t sure whether to pull him closer or shove him away. He chose the latter—pushing Oscar back with a soft, stunned, “What the fuck?”

Oscar froze, chest heaving, lips parted.

For two seconds, time didn’t move. Just silence and electric air.

And then—Lando stepped forward and grabbed the front of Oscar’s hoodie, yanking him back in like gravity had chosen a side. Their mouths crashed together again, harder this time, teeth clashing, breath catching. Lando’s fingers curled in the fabric like he needed something to anchor himself, while Oscar kissed him with the kind of desperate, furious resolve that made Lando’s knees go a little weak.

The bed frame creaked as they stumbled backward, barely coordinated, falling into tangled sheets and hot hands and the overwhelming sense that this had been inevitable from the moment Lando first grinned at him like he was already plotting.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, Oscar pulled back just long enough to look at him—lips red, hair a mess, pupils blown—and muttered, voice dark and hoarse:

“Still feel like singing?”

Lando huffed a breathless laugh, dragging him back down.

“Don’t even remember the song.”

[floralhuqzz]

Mine, Not Yours (Joe Goldberg x reader(fem)

(Chapter 17- Terry)

MASTERLIST

The streets of London blur past the taxi window.

You’re tucked under my arm, warm and safe, scrolling through something on your phone — maybe picking a movie to watch tonight.

Maybe texting someone.

Maybe him.

No.

I tighten my arm around you just slightly.

You don’t notice.

Or maybe you do, and you just smile softly and lean closer.

God, you’re perfect.

And yet… he still thinks he has a chance.

Terry.

With his fake smiles and the way his hand brushed your hip just a little too long when he said goodbye.

It makes my skin crawl.

Makes my jaw clench.

I feel the old thrill, that dark electric buzz, starting low in my gut.

It’s not fear.

Not guilt.

It’s… clarity.

I haven’t felt it in years.

But it’s back now, singing in my blood like an old lover.

I know what I have to do.

I sit there, looking out the window, mind already playing the steps:

How easy it would be to follow him home.

How I could wait. Watch.

How I could make sure no one ever finds him.

Missing.

Just another faceless man who had too many drinks and wandered off into the dark.

Maybe they’ll say he fell into the Thames.

Maybe no one will even care.

Except me.

I’ll care.

Because he made the mistake of wanting what was mine.

And now… he has to pay for it.

“Joe?” you whisper.

I blink. Look down at you.

Your face is tilted up toward me, innocent, trusting.

You have no idea what’s growing inside me.

Or maybe… maybe some part of you does.

And you don’t mind.

“I love you,” you say, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

I swallow hard.

“I love you too,” I murmur back, and for a second, for a breath, I believe that can be enough.

That this craving will pass.

But then the taxi pulls up in front of our flat.

And from across the street, I see him.

Terry.

Walking out of a pub with friends, laughing.

Alive.

For now.

You tug my hand gently, leading me up the steps.

You don’t look back.

But I do.

My fingers twitch at my side, itching for something heavier, something colder.

Tonight?

No.

Soon.

Very soon.

As I close the door behind us, I catch my reflection in the glass.

For a second, I don’t recognize the man staring back.

But then I smile.

Because I realize something.

The monster never really left.

He just fell asleep.

And now?

He’s wide awake.

-

The bedroom is warm, dimly lit by the lamp on my nightstand.

You hum quietly under your breath as you slip your jacket off, tossing it onto the chair.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you say softly, already walking toward the bathroom.

Your phone—your little gateway to the world I can’t control—you leave it behind, tossing it carelessly on top of your nightstand.

You trust me.

You have no idea how much I don’t deserve that.

The door clicks shut behind you.

I exhale slowly. Pick up a book from the nightstand. Something mindless. I pretend to read, eyes dragging across the words without really seeing them.

Bing!

The sound slices through the silence.

I look up.

Your phone screen glows.

I don’t move.

I don’t have to look.

You trust me.

I trust you.

Bing! another buzz.

Bing.

Something inside me twists.

Fucking Terry.

I close the book carefully, like I’m just stretching out.

I stand. Walk over to the nightstand.

The screen is still lit up.

I tell myself I’m just… checking.

Making sure you’re safe.

The first message flashes:

-hey (Y/N), it was nice catching up this morning.

mind grabbing coffee tomorrow? just the two of us?

I stare.

Blood pounds in my ears.

The second one right after:

-don’t tell joe😂🫣

My hands curl into fists at my sides.

Don’t tell Joe.

Don’t tell Joe.

I can barely breathe. My head drops, forehead against the nightstand , and I laugh—quiet, broken.

He thinks he can touch what’s mine.

He thinks he can sneak around, flirt, get close to you behind my back.

He thinks I won’t notice.

He’s wrong.

He’s so, so wrong.

The water is still running in the bathroom.

I hear you, humming softly, like you always do when you think you’re alone.

You don’t know.

You have no idea.

You think you’re safe now.

You think the past is behind us.

I close my eyes.

I thought it was too.

But it’s not.

It’s never really over.

And tomorrow?

Tomorrow I’m going to show Terry exactly what happens when you fuck with what’s mine.

Certainly, here’s the continuation from where Joe replies to Terry and hides the truth:

I can feel my pulse, quick and heavy, as I stare at the screen. The words sit there, taunting me.

Don’t tell Joe.

I laugh again, this time under my breath. How fucking pathetic.

I swipe the screen, fingers shaking, and type a response. It’s short, simple, almost too smooth.

-sounds good with me, see you at 11.

I don’t even hesitate. I delete the conversation before the anger inside me can fully erupt. She can never find out. Not about Terry. Not about my thoughts. She doesn’t need to know, she won’t understand. I know her. And I won’t lose her. Not over this.

I set the phone on your nightstand. I take a deep breath, wiping the sweat off my palms. I let the anger simmer, steadying my pulse as I hear the water in the bathroom cut off.

I grab the book from the nightstand, flipping it open to a random page. My heart is still hammering in my chest, but I focus on the words, pretend to get lost in them.

The bathroom door clicks open.

You walk out, wrapped in a towel, damp hair dripping slightly, a little steam still clinging to your skin. The air smells faintly of soap and lavender, and for a moment, I forget everything.

You catch my eye and smile softly. “All yours,” you say, making a teasing gesture toward the bathroom.

I smile back, like everything’s fine. Like everything is how it should be.

But it’s not. It’s never been.

I close the book, trying to keep my breathing steady. “Thanks,” I reply. I don’t even recognize my own voice.

You sit on the edge of the bed, towel clinging to your skin, your legs crossed underneath. “So, what’s on the agenda tomorrow? Got any plans?”

I hesitate. Thoughts flash—Terry. Coffee. What he’s planning. What I’m planning. I shift, feeling the weight of the situation pressing against my chest.

“I might head out,” I say casually, trying to keep my tone light. “Maybe grab a coffee. I don’t know. Just need to get some air, you know?”

You tilt your head, studying me, but you don’t push. You never do. You know when to give me space, and when to let me breathe. And right now, I need to breathe.

“You okay?” you ask, soft and a little concerned. You’ve been asking me that more lately.

“Yeah,” I lie.

But my mind is elsewhere—back to the phone. To Terry. To how much I want to strangle him for thinking he can just slip into our life, pretend like he means nothing.

You smile faintly, a playful spark in your eyes. “I swear, Joe, sometimes you get so serious. You need to relax. Enjoy life a little more.”

I nod, offering a tight smile. “Yeah, I’ll work on that.”

You laugh, but it’s not full of the same warmth as it used to be. I can see it now—the way you’re holding back. The way you’re afraid of something, but you don’t know what.

I stand up, stretching casually. “I’ll let you have your space, though. I’ll be back soon.”

You watch me leave the room. As I walk out, I glance back—just a quick one—only to find your gaze still on me.

You still haven’t figured it out, have you?

I’m not the same anymore.

And you don’t see it. But you will. You always do.

⸻

The morning feels heavy, like the world knows what I’m about to do and is holding its breath. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, the usual numbness creeping up, the routine of getting ready—the sharp, cold focus I need. My hands are steady, but my mind isn’t. Thoughts of Terry swirl in my head, each one darker than the last.

I finish getting dressed, putting on my coat with calculated precision. I don’t look at the time. It doesn’t matter. I’ve already planned this—every second, every movement.

I check my phone quickly, and the urge to respond to you hits. Just a simple “I’ll be back soon” so you don’t wonder. But I resist. I can’t be distracted. Not right now.

I grab my keys.

The car ride to the apartment feels different today, suffocating. The air in my lungs, the beat of the engine, it all seems too loud. But I push it down. I always do.

When I arrive, it’s quiet. Empty. No one is around.

I park at the back of the building, the alleyway near Terry’s place a perfect hiding spot. The plan had been set for days now. I knew his habits. His routines. How he likes to leave early for work, always stopping by the corner store. The way his eyes lingered on you. I couldn’t let that go.

I waited until I saw him. Just a glimpse through the alley, the familiar gait, the subtle cock of his head when he thought no one was watching. He doesn’t see me until it’s too late.

I’m fast.

I’m behind him, and before he even has the chance to turn around, I’m injecting him. The needle sinks into his neck—quick, precise—and his eyes widen in panic. But it’s over before he can do anything about it.

The darkness takes him.

⸻

The next thing I know, I’m pulling into the rental. The place was just big enough. Just private enough. It’ll do.

I drag him out of the car, barely needing to adjust his weight. He’s limp, out cold. But it won’t last long.

The door slams behind us, and I force him into the cage. I lock it.

Now, I stand outside of it, staring at him.

⸻

His eyes flicker open. The groggy confusion quickly turns to fear as he realizes where he is. He tries to move, but the metal bars of the cage restrict him. He pulls at them, testing the strength, only to stop when he sees me.

I watch him struggle. It’s almost… amusing. How helpless he looks.

And then, he locks eyes with me. His breathing starts to pick up, his heart racing. He knows what this is. What I’ve done.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I say, my voice low. “Not anymore.”

Terry’s face pales, his lips trembling. He looks at me like he’s seeing a monster for the first time.

I just stand there, staring at him. Watching him.

“Hello, Terry”

And there’s no going back now.