#anyway i was right before so counting on being right again

[grimmsbride]

▗▬̸̎͞/̄͆̅ ̎ ̎̿͞͞͞͞͞͞͞͞ι̚━─ ⠀ NYCTOPHILLIAC ⠀ ⠀ 𑄼ల۫ thanos / reader

getting caught up in thanos’s web was a mistake, especially when it interfered with your sleep.

𓂂 ͜ᩘ ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘𑣿 ⁣⁣⠀ TAGS unconsensual voyuerism (thanos & reader have sexual relations in her bed while everyone is asleep. even though they are asleep, i still put this warning because i know some people can get uncomfortable). ooc thanos (first time writing for him). oral sex (fem. receiving). porn no plot. mentions of past sexual relations. fingering. dirty talk. unrealistic expectations of quiet sex(?). overuse of pet names (senorita, mama, etc.) etc.

𓂂 ͜ᩘ ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘𑣿 ⁣⁣⠀ NOTES please heed the warning above as i would hate to make anyone uncomfortable while reading this fic. with that said please enjoy and i apologize for any grammar mistakes or typos.

Despite different games being assigned each day, it all felt the same — as if you had just stepped inside this odd room, surrounded by strangers that held far too many similarities with you. You couldn’t count the amount of times you flinched or teared up as you watched and heard bullets tear people apart, how their strangled cries escaped in a last ditch effort to somehow convince the ruthless guards to spare them. You nearly screamed yourself when blood hit your cheek, tainting the already sweaty area — which you gingerly cleaned up the moment you got time to.

You somehow survived, in just the nick of time too. You wondered if you had any right to be happy for your victory, or you should be remorseful for all the lives lost today. You pondered it for a complete moment before deciding doing so was useless, and not impertinent to your current situation.

Getting out with enough money was of the upmost importance, nothing more and nothing less.

Which is why you were quick to settle into bed the moment the opportunity arose, slipping out of your socks and jacket, pulling the blanket up over yourself, and shutting your eyes. The world around you seemed to cease — aside from the old man’s snoring beside you — your body melting into the mattress. Sleep was the only comfort you could afford to cling to in this situation, anything else was an unnecessary distraction.

Including the one that stood infront of you, taking form as a purple-haired devil.

You never intended to get entangled with any of the other contestants. You could smile and cheer together, but it wasn’t a secret how quickly that relationship could turn sour. Mixing any type of deeper attachments just seemed like a bad idea.

But you fucked up horribly, one thing leading to another, with you in the arms of a man named Thanos, who said just the right words at the time.

You promised yourself that one time was it, you wouldn’t slip up again. You couldn’t afford to slip up anyway.

“Thanos.. go away.” You murmured, courteous of the other contestants around you. You wondered if the two of you were the only ones awake.

Through the dimmed room you could spot Thanos tilting his head, elbow pressing against your bed as he leaned closer.

“C’mon don’t be like that.. just checking on you.”

You rolled your eyes, growing more frustrated by the minute. You desperately wanted sleep- actually, you needed it. You refused to suffer the next morning, especially since your life was literally on the line. You adjusted your pillow, basically staring daggers into the man.

“I’m fine, now, go to your own bed—“

“And.. I’m also cold.”

You blinked rapidly, nearly slapping that stupid smile right off his face. You decided to turn your back to him, ignoring that soft sound of disapproval he released.

“Wear your jacket or something.. hell— steal your friend’s blanket. Just let me sleep.”

You chose to ignore the second sound he released, which seemed to be an unusually pitiful whine, mixed with an obnoxious groan. You wanted to tell him off for his volume, but decided not to— trying to seem as stern as possible so he could finally leave you alone.

But Thanos wasn’t the type to let up, something you quickly learned the moment you met him. Seeing as his fingers began to graze your blanket, rising closer just so his lips were hovering over your ear.

“But you’re right here.. can’t we share some warmth until morning? You wouldn’t want me to freeze, right?”

Thanos’s words were tempting, as usual. Whether you liked to admit it or not, he knew just what to say. Which is why you called him a devil, a sickening demon with that silver tongue.

You bit the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to fight mind over matter. Not only was this bad for your sleep, you were also at risk for breaking some unknown rule. And if you got shot over cuddling, you would definitely haunt this place like a vengeful spirit.

But in the end you gave in, the reason fleeting at the moment. You could only focus on the fact he would hopefully shut up when he got what he wanted. So, wordlessly, you brought up the blanket behind you; hearing his small giddy voice as he climbed in with you.

At least the man was nice enough to allow most of the blanket to cover you, the rest of your exposed self covered by his larger frame. Thanos made quick work of wrapping his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him as his face found your neck.

“You have to leave before morning.”

Whether acknowledging you or not, the man just let out a hum, lips treading across your warm skin in the process. With a shiver you attempted to focus on sleep, admitting to yourself that the extra warmth was comforting. It also allowed you to truly relax, knowing your back was covered— literally.

Your hand found the back of his, fingers spreading along it as your eyes settled shut. You felt your self slipping in slowly, body growing heavier as that relaxation began to reach its peak.

Only to tumble down the moment you felt a thumb play at the waistband of your pants.

“Thanos..”

“Hm?”

You slowly turned your head, tight-lipped and squinting at him through the darkness. “Don’t fucking hm, me— what are you doing?”

The shit-eating grin that developed was telling, his thumb now slithering under your shirt and rubbing small circles into your skin.

“Not a thing.. yet.”

“We’re supposed to be sleeping!”

The man was quick to raise his free hand, placing a taunting finger to his lips. “Don’t wake the others Señorita, that’ll be just plain rude.” The circles on your skin continued, Thanos closer as his lips brushed against your own yet didn’t fully touch.

“This will help you sleep better. Erasing alll your worries in the blink of an eye.” He breathed, eyes flicking low as if attempting to see beneath the blanket. Instead his hand did the seeing for him, fingers breaching your pants and underwear; tips stroking your soft cunt. He couldn’t help the little twitch of a smile the moment he felt you release a strangled breath, using two long fingers to spread you open to his hand.

And when your lips parted to speak, his own covered them; a gentle kiss that caused your mind to grow dizzy. You couldn’t help your legs spreading, hand wrapping around Thanos’s wrist the moment you felt him at your clit. He rolled his thumb so perfectly, applying delicious pressure to the little bud that caused you to see stars.

The moment you needed to breathe you regretted leaving his lips, seeing as you struggled to keep your voice down. He wasn’t even touching you much yet here you were, panting and releasing the softest moan. With a quick raise of your hand, you covered your mouth— teeth biting into the flesh the moment you felt a finger slowly sink into your wetness.

“Wish I could see..” The soft comment made you groan softly, hips rising the moment he began to piston his finger. Within moments a second was joining, scissoring you open and plunging deeper then your own fingers could. Your eyebrows knitted close, the pain of your bite washing away with each thrust of his digits.

“Thanos.. please..”

“Oh no.. keep your voice to yourself— I wouldn’t want anyone else to hear how pretty you sound.”

As usual his words held such a teasing tone, face moving back to your neck to kiss and bite gently. Even with his small request the man wasn’t making the situation any easier, especially when his thumb moved right back to your sensitive clit; rubbing those same dizzy inducing circles.

You felt way too good right now, your body practically shaking with how much you struggled to keep in. The thought of anyone waking up right now with you in this state — under the mercy of a certain purple-haired, tattooed rapper — was a thought you couldn’t even imagine without your heart pounding with anxiety.

The best thing to do would be to push him off before things progressed. You hadn’t a clue how far he wanted to take this, nor did you think it would end in time for the lights to cut on. And Thanos wasn’t a creep, he would listen to you the moment you expressed actual discomfort from the situation. But you weren’t, that pain you felt all day, that anguish; did truly wash away in seconds just from the flick of his fingers.

The thrusts against your velvety, soaked walls were perfect— your eyes rolling to find your skull the moment the ferocity increased. A metallic taste invaded your mouth from how bad you were biting yourself, but you didn’t care; it was a concern for morning [Name], not horny [Name] who was currently being cared for by the hottest contestant in this god forsaken place.

“Oh, all this clenching— you’re close aren’t you? Can barely get my fingers out.”

The smile in his speech was obvious, breath fanning against your skin as he urged you more and more; curling his fingers just right to hear your muffled sounds peak into a small squeal.

Your nails dragged across his tattooed hand, feeling it flex with each movement of his fingers. Your mind was growing cloudy, barely being able to register the words that were being pressed right against your ear.

“How about I get a taste, huh? Wanna come all in my mouth, mama.. it’ll be such an easy clean up.”

Before you could even think to speak Thanos was pulling his hand out from within you. You had little time to protest when you felt him grabbing your blanket, pulling it over his body as he crawled down your own. Your eyes slowly widened, realizing his words and actions; a new sheen of sweat finding your skin. Your nerves were on fine at this point, inner mind screaming to tell him to do anything else but that.

However, the moment you felt him pulling down your pants and his lips finding your pretty cunt, all hope was lost. The back of your head quickly found your pillow, hand going right back to your mouth to bite down even harsher than before. His tongue exited his mouth in a long stride, gliding across your wet center, and parting you easily.

Thanos created similar ministrations with the tip of his tongue like his thumb, circling your bud and slowly pulling it between his lips. There, he began to suck, the sound noisy but muffled by your blankets and other’s snoring.

Muffled gasps pushed against your skin, hips rising and legs closing around his head; bringing him even closer to you. The peak that was steadily approached seemed to pick up speed far too quickly, your mind turning to mush.

No more were you number so-so, victim to madmen and their sick games. No, you were simply [Name], moaning wantonly with little care for the environment around you.

Your other hand slithered under the blanket, finding his hair and tugging the soft tresses; feeling them stick between the gaps of your fingers. Shamelessly you rubbed against his face, desperate for that sweet release. Your pussy convulsed with each struggled breath you took, stars impeding your vision as you got closer and closer.

You felt it before you heard it, Thanos’s sweet urges right into your pussy. His wet words of make me a mess, pretty girl— don’t hold back on me now, causing you to tip over the line.

His mouth latched to you, drinking up your release as if you tasted better than any drug within his cross. It didn’t help he was practically praising your taste, a sloppy groan being delivered right into your pussy. Gingerly, Thanos licked you clean, assuring not a single drop was left.

Only when the man was fully satisfied did he let up, climbing up from the blanket and popping his head out to look down at you.

“See, it helped— you can barely keep your eyes open right now.”

You released a soft breath, a mix of a chuckle and a sigh as you stared up at the man. “You gonna let me sleep now?” You spoke softly, watching his wet lips curl into a gentle smile.

“Of course. Good night, [Name].”

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part 8

Summary: Jungkook's feelings for you have grown immensely and he can't hold himself back from being honest anymore. Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 2.6K~ (I know it's short but it was at a good stopping point and I couldn't figure out how to continue it without a big time skip/harsh break so yeah enjoy this mini chapter 😅) Warnings: No warnings just fluff a/n: Another almost four months and I only have a little bit for you 😔 I'm still trying to figure out how I want to go about finishing this story (yes it's close to the end) so please bear with me 😪 but either way I hope you enjoy!

Ever since I told him last month that I didn't want to be friends anymore and by default telling him that I wanted to be with him things have been different.

We've settled into a new routine with the tension between us no longer burning to the point I shy away but something that feel natural, domestic even. 

I guess you could say that's pretty obvious from the fact that we're living together but his subtle touches are welcomed and expected.

Things as simple as his hand on my lower back as he passes by or his arms wrapped around me from behind with his chin propped up on my shoulder or even a kiss on the forehead are all things that we've settled into and it makes me feel loved. 

Love is still a scary word for me to think about or even say aloud but it's something I feel towards him, deeply, hopelessly, painfully.

At times I remember that things could suddenly change without warning. That he could toss me out as soon as he gets fed up with waiting like Jared did. That he cou-. 

"Ow!" I cry out when he pinches my side, "What was that for?" I whine, the spot he abused  already sore. "I've been calling your name for five minutes and you didn't respond so..." he chuckles and I hum, not having the energy to scold him further. 

He wraps his arms around my waist and props his chin on my shoulder just like I had been thinking about while spacing out, leaving me relaxing into him, the feeling of being in his arms taking away some of the anxiety that had started to build. 

"You okay?" he asks, placing a kiss on my cheek to which I hum again, nodding along with it. "You sure, because you've been stirring your coffee for the past seven minutes" he says, my hand stilling once he points it out. 

I take a drink of the completely cold beverage and sigh in defeat, realizing that his words are true. 

"I wanted it cold anyways" I mumble and turn to walk over to the freezer to add some ice, Jungkook letting go but still staying close. 

"Something's wrong" he says after observing me for another second or two, very used to reading my body language. "Nothing's wrong I'm just...tired" I reply and the truth is I am. 

"My internship has been kicking my ass and I don't know, I guess it's all starting to catch up to me" I relent and he takes a turn humming, knowing I'm not telling him the whole truth. 

"You know you can tell me anything right?" he says, coming closer and cradling my face in his hands, granting him a sad smile in return. 

"I know, but I promise I'm fine. It's just been a long week that's all" he studies my features for a while and decides to take my word for it, seeing that I'm not ready to talk about it. He nods his head a tiny bit before leaning in and giving me a soft kiss on my lips, one that lasts but a moment before pulling away.

"You wanna watch something tonight?" he asks and I smile as my answer, making him chuckle. "I'll make the snacks if you wanna go choose" he offers and I nod, my face still cradled in his hands so he gives me one last kiss before letting go and leaving our source of entertainment up to me.

~~~~

As the movie we've already watched and fallen in love with plays Jungkook notices my absence even though I'm cuddled up next to him, my reactions being minimal to nonexistent.

The parts we always laugh at are met with the sounds of his enjoyment and not mine so he pauses it and waits for me to notice which I don't for a while leaving him even more worried. 

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours Bunny? Did I do something wrong?" he asks and I sit up, needing him to know that he hasn't. "No, no you've been wonderful, better than I deserve honestly" I say, mumbling the last part but of course he hears it loud and clear.

"I'm good to you because I love you and you do deserve it, that's all" he admits so freely that I almost don't catch it. "You...what?" I ask, almost too scared to breathe. "I love you" he says with a crooked smile, clearly enjoying my practically speechless state.

I sit there for a minute, stunned into silence, not having expected that at all but he just laughs. "What? You didn't think I loved you?" he asks, brushing a stray strand of hair off of my face, letting his fingers trail down my neck before withdrawing his hand.

"No...I mean maybe? Isn't it a little too early for I love you's?" I ask, tentative to say it after I had been burned by...

"I don't think so. I mean it might be forward but I've loved you for a long time and I've cared about you even longer. You're someone that has been a constant in my life for many many years and the fact that you've given me permission to hold you, kiss you...well it's something that I don't think I can hold back anymore" he confesses, making me feel as though my heart might explode. 

"I-" "You don't have to say anything. Take your time and only say it if you truly mean it Darling. I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for" he says, chancing caressing my face again and rubbing his thumb along my bottom lip. 

"Come here" he says and pulls me in, having me straddle him not for anything sexual but just for the need to hold me close. 

I burry my face in his neck and he rubs my back, knowing that I feel vulnerable since although he's not rushing me, I know he'll be waiting for an answer. 

"I'm scared" I mumble against his skin and he hums, understanding the situation honestly more than I wish he did. He witnessed the ups and downs of the relationship between Jared and I and sat on the sidelines, knowing he could treat me better but caring about me too much to take away my right to make my own decisions and choose who I love even if it wasn't him. 

"Take your time Bun. You know I'll always be here for you, no matter how long it takes" he reassures me of what I knew, making me nod and wrap around him even tighter, taking his words as genuine but still terrified that this could all slip away at any moment. 

~~~~

A week goes by and I still haven't said it and it's killing me.

When he says goodbye he says it, whenever we've been intimate he says it, he even says it randomly just to try to make me smile but my mind won't truly let it sink in until I say it back.

"Baby?" he asks, knocking on my partially ajar door, seeing that I've been taking a little while longer to get out of bed this morning. 

I hum and let him come in, trying to assess the state I'm in before saying anything else as he comes and sits down on my side of the bed, looking down at me and placing his hand on my waist. I'm still laying down, not having made an effort to get up just yet which I know worries him as well but he doesn't push me too hard. 

"You not feeling well?" he asks, now going to check my temperature with the back of his hand but not noticing a fever of any sort making his theory very short lived. "No, just tired" I say quietly, not having spoken a word since I woke up, my voice still raspy which I can tell he enjoys but doesn't comment on this time.

"You want me to make you something? It's already lunch time and you haven't eaten all day huh?" he asks, knowing the answer but still allowing me the chance to reply. "Yeah maybe something simple like a sandwich?" I request and he nods.

"Want me to get it from that sandwich place we love?" he suggests, rubbing small circles on my waist but I shake my head. "No I'm craving one of your sandwiches" I say making him smile, knowing one of his favorite forms of praise is compliments on his cooking. 

"Okay Bun, the usual?" he asks, knowing exactly what I want but asking just in case I'm feeling like something a little different today but I nod my head in approval making him lean down and place a kiss on my forehead before asking if I want him to bring it up here to which I decline. 

"I need to get out of bed at some point" I say and he shrugs, "You're allowed to have a lazy day every once in a while if you'd like. I could even come join you later on?" he proposes making me smile, in favor of his suggestion. 

"Can we take a nap after lunch?" I ask and he smirks a bit, testing the waters to see what I'm actually asking for. "Just a regular nap this time" I roll my eyes leaving him sighing dramatically before leaving, telling me he'll call me down when it's ready.

Once he's gone the doubt that has been plaguing my mind comes circling back.

'What if he's just saying that to take pity on me? What if he's saying it to rush me into something I'm not ready for? What if-' I groan, cutting off the spiral that I send myself down every time I'm alone and throw the blankets off before going into my bathroom and throwing cold water on my face, glaring at myself in the mirror, daring me to keep acting like this.

He loves me. He loves...me. Why am I so torn up about this? People say it all the time so it's not like it's the end of the world. It's just that...well next time I say it I want to mean it. The next time I say it I want it to be real. 

I want to say it to the man that I'll promise to say it to forevermore. 

Call me a hopeless romantic all you want but if I'm going to trust someone with my heart again I don't want to regret it...

~~~~

"Here you go Bunny" he says and places my sandwich in front of me. "I love you" I mumble, softer than I've ever said anything before but it makes his movements stutter. 

"What was that Darling?" he asks, sitting down in the seat next to me at the table. "I um...I said 'Thank you'" I chicken out and although he wants to call me out on it he doesn't.

"You're welcome baby" he says, his smile a little brighter when he realizes that I'm trying, that I want to say it too but I just don't have the confidence yet. 

"Anything for you" he finishes and caresses my cheek before getting up and grabbing his plate along with our drinks. 

"You sure you're feeling alright?" he asks, my silence through lunch palpable since whenever he tries to start up a conversation I give him small short answers that make his efforts die in his throat. 

"I've just been feeling a little funky that's all" I say and he hums, contemplating his next words which surprise me. "I'm sorry" he says, defeated and honestly quite vulnerable. "Why are you apologizing?" I ask, not thinking that he would have done anything that would require something like that. 

"I knew you weren't ready and I rushed things but I wanted to be able to say what I felt for you because it was eating me alive. Having to cut off my sentences and not being able to speak my mind fully, holding you as close to my heart as possible but not being able to tell you that you had it in the palm of your hand already I just...I couldn't do it anymore" he says, his whole demeanor shifted into an almost sorrowful state that I can't hold it back anymore.

I can't keep hurting him like this when all I want to do is scream it for all to hear, even if the thought terrifies me.

"I love you" I say making his head pop up from it's dropped state, then feeling guilty and looking at his lap again as a result. "You don't have to say it just because I did. I just wanted to apologize because I know that that's was why you've been feeling so off lately" he says but I shake my head. 

"The thought of giving my heart to someone again scares the shit out of me. After...well after going through all of that the thought of opening myself up again was not something I wanted to do. I will admit I sought you out out of lust at first but as our friendship and eventual relationship began to grow I realized that I cared about you a whole lot more that I should" I say, me now with my head turned down, not being able to keep the intense eye contact he's giving me, hanging on every word. 

"I didn't know if you were doing these things for me because you felt sorry or because you truly cared. I know now that doubting your motives was honestly my own self doubt getting the best of me. You've done nothing but love and care for me since the beginning and I haven't let myself fully process the fact that I'm..." I cut myself off and take a deep breath.

"The fact that I'm falling in love with you" and although he said those words first the admission alone has me feeling as though he hadn't, as if he would change his mind now that I reciprocated his confession but he does anything but that, further confirming his true intentions for me as he pulls me closer. 

He doesn't pull me in with a carnal passion in mind, he doesn't even pull me in for a kiss, he pulls me in and holds me close, telling me wordlessly that he's proud of me. That he's proud of me for taking that step, for trusting him with my heart, my mind, soul, fully consumed by him without abandon.

"Thank you" he whispers, his face being buried in my hair making me laugh at the ticklish feeling. "Don't make it weird" I say and poke his side making him flinch and hold me tighter. "How can I not? The woman I love loves me back" he chuckles and when I try to pull back he squeezes me tighter. 

"Just let me have my moment" he huffs making me sigh and return his crushing embrace. "I love you" he says making me burry my face into his neck, mumbling it against his skin in return. 

"Nah nah nah, say it like you mean it" he says, pushing me back just enough so he can look at me. "But I do mean it!" I roll my eyes, playing into his pouty act. "Come on, say it!" he says, pushing me back and forth, making me sway. 

"I already said it, why do you need to hear it again?" I chuckle when his pout gets deeper. "Okay fine" I give in making his brows raise at my quick defeat. "I love you" I whisper in his ear and then run away, his hold on me having loosened from pure shock of my honesty, knowing now that I truly truly mean it. 

"Get back here!" he scolds once he's come back down to earth, the surprise replaced with determination, his intentions being to not let me go til sunrise.  

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[gravedwe11er]

The @keferon mecha AU texaid continues living rent-free in my head, and I just had to write more for them! It was very much unexpected, but I can't say I'm complaining. Timeline wise, it comes after the first half of part one

Cw: mostly just typical Vortex things

One day after his terrifying trip with Vortex, Felix has another encounter with the dangerous mech and a tentative accord is struck.

Felix walks out of the meeting room after three harrowing, shouting-filled hours, feeling hopeless, anxious, and more exhausted than he’s ever been before in his entire life. And what a feat that is, considering he went through medical school during an actual alien apocalypse, not to mention going on an involuntary joyride in a murderous mech just yesterday.

God dammit.

Leaning against the nearest wall, Felix puts his head in his hands and counts to ten.

He’s being reassigned – Felix Adler, newest member of the mecha pilot corps, effective immediately. Tomorrow, he’s to report to the base’s quartermaster at five am sharp, so he can get fitted for a pilot’s uniform and be shoved back into Vortex whenever the next attack comes. The thing’s longest surviving pilot he knows of lasted a whopping six weeks before bleeding out in her seat, courtesy of her severed hands – and that’s disregarding all the other injuries to mind and body he and his colleagues had to treat before her eventual death.

God fucking dammit.

Technically, he could just resign. Could always pack his bags and leave, but – the military paid for his med school. There’s a mandatory eight-year period of service or they’ll make him pay it all back, with an interest rate high enough to make even a loan shark stumble. Short of winning the lottery, there’s no way he’d be able to get his hands on that sort of money in his entire lifetime.

That aside, he wouldn’t be doing his life expectancy any favors by leaving anyway. Most hospitals these days are at least semi-mobile, which means hard cots, cold MRE’s and frequent shuffling around to various affected zones. Not to mention, as beastly as the quintessons look, they’re much smarter than any animal - meaning they’ve learned to recognize hospitals for the prime targets they are and attack accordingly.

Given his luck, he’d end up being flattened by a quint within the year, spending his last moments miserable, tired, and in more debt than gambling addict on a year-long losing streak. It’s the whole reason he fought so hard for this posting in the first place – if you’re going to be working in a medbay, might as well do so where there’s a whole hangar full of mecha to defend you when you need it.

Which leads him right back to where he started. No place to run. A likely death on the front lines, one way or another.

Well. At least the food here is warm.

With an odd numbness creeping into his fingertips, he slowly starts making his way to his quarters, only to remember- right, he doesn’t even get to keep that part of his previous life. He’s being moved in to where the other pilots live, much closer to the hangar than his previous little shoebox of a living space was. Wouldn’t want him to be late for his next date with the malicious death machine, apparently.

Turning on his heels, Felix only makes it a few more steps before something in his head just- snaps. Suddenly, the foggy emptiness of before is chased away by an angry sort of determination, and he changes course yet again, heading instead for the nearest sanitation closet. Grabbing his usual Vortex-duty cleaning supplies, he stomps his way to the hangar.

They want send him back into that thing? Fine. Fine, he’ll be command’s latest sacrificial lamb, but if he’s going to die in that cockpit, he refuses to do so while sitting in other people’s bodily fluids.

The thought buoys him for all of five minutes until he’s standing on the catwalk facing Vortex, at which all his previous bravado evaporates back into a familiar dread. A shiver passes over his skin, the cold lance of anxiety nearly freezing him in his tracks. Still, he breathes through it, forcing himself to take the final few steps needed to stand at the cockpit entrance.

His hand reaches for the opening button- which proves unnecessary, as the crimson glass immediately slides up of its own volition. Blinking, he slowly lowers his hand again.

Hm, he supposes that’s as much of an invitation as he’s going to get. Doesn’t mean he won’t be getting mauled if he goes in, but- it’s a good sign.

Last chance to back out.

“Just here to clean a bit,” he calls out into the cockpit, feeling incredibly stupid talking to empty air, before stepping cautiously inside. Nobody’s bothered to clean up since yesterday, which means the last dead pilot’s blood still stains the small space, turning the floor brown and crusty. The stale air reeks of iron and decay, mixed with the stench of bleach. The sharp, heavy gaze of Vortex’s internal cameras digs into his back, making his hair stand on ends.

All in all, not a very comforting atmosphere.

Felix flinches when the lights suddenly flicker on, bathing the cockpit in red as the screen closes behind him with a resounding click. “I’ll try to be quick about it,” he says, eyes flickering around the small space, “so please don’t-“

A flare of light from behind gives him pause, and Felix turns to find words now written across the mech’s main screen.

AW, WHY NOT STICK AROUND?

GOT SOMEWHERE MORE IMPORTANT TO BE?

Felix huffs, a bit of sharpness creeping into his words despite his racing heart. “I do, actually. Mostly because of you, if you have to know.” Getting to his knees, he puts down his cleaning bucket and starts pulling on a fresh pair of latex gloves, keeping an eye on the screen all the while.

DON’T SULK BABY, YOU KNOW YOU HAD FUN~

“Wh- fun?” he almost yells, indignant. “I don’t know what gave you that idea, but-“

YOU LIKED SEEING THEM TAKEN APART

GETTING TO DIG AROUND IN ALL THEIR SQUISHY INSIDES

Felix freezes at that, one hand halfway to the bucket, followed by a full-body flinch once he sees the next set of works that scroll across the crimson screen.

SO MUCH BETTER THAN THOSE SAD LITTLE SCRAPS IN THE LAB, YEAH?

What the- “How the hell do you know about that?” he wheezes out incredulously. While the medical team eventually found out about the incident that led to his vortex-duty punishment, he could have sworn that it hasn’t carried as far as the pilots. Then, how could he have-

WATCHED YOU ON THE CAMERAS : )

YOU FUCKING SUCK AT BEING SNEAKY, BY THE WAY

LIKE, WOW

Sitting down on the filthy floor with a grimace, Felix closes his eyes, suddenly feeling very, very tired. “Thanks. I’ve noticed,” he sighs out, giving himself a few moments to process.

Vortex is right, in a way. While the experience was mostly awful, what with him being pretty sure he would die that day, Felix has to admit that seeing the quints properly, getting even a glimpse of their physiology up close was horrifyingly fascinating. They’ve long been a mystery he wants desperately to solve, a puzzle to figure out - He wants to see them with his own eyes, to take them apart piece by piece until he knows everything there is to know.

And Vortex seems well aware of it, too, because of course he can mess with the cameras, why not. He’s known all along, apparently, and it had, what- caught his interest? Is that why he strongarmed Felix into ‘piloting’ him in the first place?

He raises his head, intending to ask about it, but his eye is caught by a new string of text across the glass before he can get the words out.

WE CAN BOTH GET WHAT WE WANT OUT OF THIS

Shelving the thought for a later date, he gives Vortex’s screen a considering look, heart racing in his chest. “I’m listening,” he says, cautious.

YOU WANNA DIG AROUND INSIDE THE SQUIDDIES

AND I WANT YOU

WIN-WIN

With a raised brow, Felix scoffs. “Right. And how do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know you’re not just going to kill me the next time I put that helmet on?”

YOU DON’T

; )

God dammit. Well, he should have expected that, really.

Still, it’s something to work with. Vortex clearly wants him around, whether it be for his medical knowledge or just his entertainment value, which means that, at least for now, he wants Felix alive. There’s no guarantee he won’t change his mind in the future, and Felix is very much aware that alive is not the same as unharmed, but-

It’s a start.

He could still leave. Pack his bags, accept his dishonorable discharge and his mountain of debt, apply at the nearest hospital and never look back. He’d never have to step foot into Vortex again.

But he’d never get to see another quint up close, not unless it was seconds away from smashing him into paste. Never find out what the primary brain looks like, how the mechanical parts merge so seamlessly with alien flesh. Never get to splay one open and tear its secrets from its body, like muscle from bone.

“Alright then,” he finally answers, and fervently hopes it’s the right choice.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! More coming soon! And huge thanks to @jayden-writes and @showstopper35 for their help and support!

[be-my-sunrise]

Court-side Fever || z.cl

pairings: bf!chenle x fem!reader

genre: smut, minors pls dni

word count: 1,826

warnings: car sex, unprotected sex, pussy and thigh slapping, hair pulling, creampie, fingering, tit play. let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: happy new year's everyone! i hope you all enjoy your holiday :D i haven't posted in a while and i apologize for not being active here😞 anyways, enjoy this chenle fic! watching him play basketball does things to me, so i decided to write about it lmao

special thanks to @onriyuview @notyourjaem @lovetaroandtaemin @jenoslutie for helping me out🩵 ily teehee :3

“Good game, dude. See you next week!”

Chenle daps Mark up and leaves the basketball court. After bidding his goodbyes to Haechan and Jeno as well, he jogs towards where you’re sitting and grabs his water bottle. 

“Babe, do you want to order food at home, or should we go to a drive-thru?” He asks before downing his water.

However, you barely heard what he said. You don’t usually come with him when he’s playing basketball with his friends, mainly because Chenle feels bad about having you wait hours for him. But you insisted on tagging along this time, and boy, you were glad you did. 

Seeing him play and watching his moves on the court after so long has you in a trance. You find yourself rubbing your thighs together subconsciously almost the entire time. It's clear that he does things to your body, and it's evident in the way your panties stick to your core.

Now that he’s standing before you, lust clouds your mind, and every inch of your body is fighting the urge to take him on this bench. He looks so ravishing, all sweaty like this, the sun behind him like a paid actor. 

The cast of warm golden light around him only emphasizes the droplets of sweat on his dewy skin, and it’s not doing much to help with your situation.

Chenle glances at you when he doesn't hear any response. He waves one hand in front of your face. “Baby?”

You blink your eyes a couple of times, waking yourself up from your daze. “Huh? Oh yeah, sure.” 

“Did you even hear what I just said?”

“Uhh… no?” You look away nervously, which makes him chuckle. “Should we just order in? You seem a bit tired.”

More like aroused, but he’s right, you are somewhat tired. Tired of squeezing your thighs together. You need him so badly that you can’t even think straight. Realizing that Chenle is waiting for your answer, you give him a nod as a response.

“Alright then, let’s go home!”

Chenle leans down to pick up his bag from the ground beside your feet, and you suck in a sharp breath when you catch a whiff of his scent. He smells so fucking good, and it's driving you insane.

You stand up abruptly, almost bumping into his head in the process. He grabs your arm before you could walk away and pulls you close. “Baby, why are you being weird today? Are you okay?”

One proper look at him is all it takes for you to crash your lips against his. You practically throw your body onto Chenle, making him yelp when his back hits the fence. The kiss catches him off guard, but he quickly snaps out of it.

“You're so fucking hot, baby. I need you so bad,” you say in between kisses and feel him smirk.

You bunch his shirt up in a fit of desperation, exposing his toned abs. Chenle quickly snatches your wrist away when he feels you tugging on the waistband of his shorts. 

“Slow down, baby,” he says after pulling away. “Let's continue this in the car, yeah?”

He chuckles when he sees your face light up. You're buzzing with excitement as you drag him to his car, quite literally shoving him inside and straddling him in a blink of an eye.

You connect your lips with his again while grinding your core against his bulge. Chenle pulls your hips down to make you feel his hardening member even more. You run your fingers through his damp hair, giving it a slight pull. 

The kiss gets messier as the two of you get more desperate. He pulls away to catch his breath and tilts his head to give you more access as you start to leave hickeys across his neck. A small moan escapes his lips when you lick a stripe across his salty skin and blow cool air on the fresh red marks.

“If I had known you’d be like this, I would’ve taken you with me a long time ago,” he says breathlessly.

“I feel the same way, baby. I forgot how hot you look when you’re playing basketball,” you giggle. “At least we know better now.”

Chenle lays you down on the seat before pulling your pants down along with your panties in one swift motion. He smirks at the sight of your leaking core. 

“Fuck, baby. You must really like watching me play, hm? You soaked through your panties,” he says as he dangles your panties next to his face. 

You bite down on your lower lip when drags his finger along your slit, hips twitching as he lands a light slap on your clit. He pushes his pants down with one hand while rubbing your sensitive bud with the other. 

You feel a shiver down your spine when Chenle taps his cock on your clit, letting out a moan as he spreads your arousal across your pussy. You wait for him to push it in, but he continues to rub his cock against your slit and you start getting impatient. 

“You're so fucking wet I could just slip in easily,” he moans, admiring the mess he's making.

“Stop teasing and put it in then!” 

You snap and roll your eyes at Chenle, which makes him raise an eyebrow at your sudden change of attitude. 

“It’s cute that you think you can talk to me like that,” he scoffs. Chenle grips your thigh before landing a slap on it, making you flinch.

“You should be grateful that I’m hard as fuck right now, otherwise I would leave you untouched,” he says as he pulls you up by your arm. “On your knees.”

You quickly adjust your position, standing on your knees and placing your hands on the backrest. You let out a yelp when he pulls your head back by your hair, feeling his hot breath on your ear. 

“I've been spoiling you too much, and now you’re giving me attitude.”

You moan as he slowly rubs your clit. “Chenle, please.”

“Please what baby?” He teases while nibbling on your ear.

You try to form words but you can’t think straight. Your pussy is throbbing and the feeling of his hands on you makes you dizzy.

“Please… I need you,” you whine. Chenle lets out a condescending laugh seeing you push your ass back, grinding against his cock. 

“You can do better than that,” he says before slapping your ass.

“Fuck! Please, baby, I need you so bad. Need your cock inside me now, please.”

A gasp escapes your lips as Chenle pushes his cock all the way inside you, letting you adjust to his size for a moment as he leaves kisses on your neck. He pulls his cock out almost entirely, leaving just the tip before pushing himself back in all the way. 

His thrusts are deep and rough, your breath getting caught in your throat each time his hips slam against yours.

“You feel so good, baby,” he whispers before pulling on your hair once more. “Always so tight and wet.”

“O-only for you,” your voice trembles, barely managing to say anything.

He chuckles, “Is that so? Such a good girl.” 

Chenle slips both hands underneath your shirt, giving your tits a nice grip before pulling down your bra. He tugs on your nipples and rolls them between his fingers, making you throw your head back to rest on his shoulder as he continues thrusting relentlessly.

The car shakes with each thrust, and only the sounds of skin slapping and your broken moans can be heard. The grip you have on the seat tightens as Chenle angles his hips to push his cock even deeper, earning a loud moan from you.

Your thighs tremble as he hits your sweet spot repeatedly. He places one hand on the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss, and you moan into the kiss when you feel his fingers sneak their way onto your clit. 

“Baby, I'm-”

“Close? I know, baby. You keep clenching around me,” he chuckles. He picks up the pace and rubs your clit faster. “Cum for me, baby. Cream all over my cock.”

Your jaw goes slack as the pleasure overwhelms you. The way you're squeezing his cock makes him dizzy. Chenle lets out a groan, his thrusts getting sloppier as he reaches his climax. 

He pushes his cock all the way inside you as he cums, and you grind your hips against his to help him ride out his high. He presses a kiss on your temple before pulling out of your warmth.

You gasp as he cups your pussy and flicks his fingers against your slit with a quick motion, making his cum drip onto the leather seat. He tugs on your shirt as a signal for you to take it off. 

“Lay down on your back for me, baby,” he says with a low tone.

You lay back down on the seat and he spreads your legs wide. Chenle pulls your bra down to expose your hardened nipples and leans over to latch his lips around one of them. 

He shoves his fingers inside your pussy as he flicks his tongue on your nipple and you suck in a sharp breath, back arching from the pleasure. 

“Fuck, baby. Feels so good,” you moan. 

You place your hand on his head to feel him even closer as he sucks on your nipple, making you whimper. You're still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so it doesn't take long until you feel the familiar knot again.

“Oh, god. I'm gonna cum again, baby.”

Chenle unlatches his lips from your nipple and straightens his back, pushing his fingers all the way inside before curling them. The intensity of his fingers has you crying out in pleasure as you reach your second climax, legs convulsing as he pulls his fingers out and starts rubbing your clit quickly. 

Your legs clamp around his arm, but he uses his other hand to spread them apart and hold them down. Chenle slaps your clit harshly after you come down from your high, making your hips twitch. 

He grips your tits using the hand that's still wet with your arousal, flicking the bud until your chest starts to tremble and you let out a shaky breath from the tingly sensation. 

He leans down to kiss you once more before tucking his cock back into his pants. You were about to get up and redress yourself, but Chenle stops you. You look at him confused.

“You're staying like this until we get home, baby,” he says with a smirk on his face. 

He grabs one of your hands and places it on your core. Then, Chenle climbs into the driver's seat and adjusts his mirror so he can watch you play with yourself.  

“Just keep that pretty little pussy of yours wet for me.”

a/n: save me basketball player chenle😵‍💫🫠 thank you for reading<3 i hope you like it!

[measuredingold]

my soul is useless without you

author's note: part two to i'd walk through hell for you is finally here ! i'm not sure if i want to do a third part, but we’ll see lol but i'm currently working on something for folio 👀 as always, i hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated ! also, if yall have any requests, send them my way :) i'm in the mood to write but inspiration is running thin lol

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

divider: @saradika-graphics

word count: 3.5k

cross posted on ao3 / part one

cw/tw: angst, hurt/comfort, Noah Sebastian Is Bad At Feelings But A Good Friend, reader is going through it, anxiety, hints/mentions of depression, noah is just a good guy and cares about reader a lot ( more than he realizes ), friends to lovers pining lol, 18+ minors do not interact

It's when Jolly asks Noah in-between takes if he'd heard from you recently that the anxiety finally settles in.

Because he doesn't know the last time he's heard from you. Which isn't normal.

He's a bad texter, notorious for looking at messages and making a note to reply to them later or replying in his mind, but he always makes sure to reply to you whenever the two of you aren't together. It's just always been a thing, to always have some form of communication with you when he wasn't over at yours or if you weren't at his, so it panics him when he can't remember the last time he'd spoken to you.

He goes through your messages and finds that it wasn't him this time who didn't respond, but instead it was you. Relief washes over him briefly, the guilt of forgetting to respond to his best friend vanishing, but then that anxiety comes back full force. 

You didn't respond.

You always responded.

He sends off a quick message to you, apologizing for being in studio mode and not leaving the house and asks if you're alright. He waits. They go through another take, he somehow doesn't fuck it up even though his mind isn't all the way there. You still haven't responded by the fifth take and that's when he starts to feel sick, stomach twisting with the worry of what could be wrong. 

He tries to think back to if you've ever gone this long without speaking and he can't think of a time when that has happened. 

"Earth to Noah." Jolly's voice pulls him away from his thoughts.

"Oh. Uh, sorry." 

"All good, man." His bandmate eyes him for a second before his eyes flicker towards his phone. "She respond?"

"Um. No." His brows furrowed as he stared at his phone, the black screen mocking him. "Kind of worried."

"Yeah... I am, too." Jolly murmurs. He clicks around on the screen a few times before twisting his chair around to fully face Noah, arms crossing over his chest. "You should go over there. Check and make sure she's alright."

Noah raises a brow at him. "We're in the middle of recording?"

"And?" Jolly shrugs, waving him off. "We got a lot done today, we can wrap it up. Something's obviously wrong and she might need you. That's more important than some song."

He blinks at his friend, letting his words settle in. Jolly's right, he thinks. You are more important than whatever song they're working on. That confirmation makes him feel funny, something tightening beneath his chest but he ignores it, nodding slowly. 

"Okay. You wanna come?"

Jolly shakes his head. "Nah. The both of us might be overwhelming. If you do need me then call, if not..." He shrugs again before lifting himself up out of his chair, groaning softly to himself, "...might be best for just you to go. She'd probably feel better if it's just you, anyways. You know how she is."

Noah isn't quite sure what he means, but nods along anyways. He checks his phone again and still no text, but he notices that you read the message. He should feel relieved at the sign of life but it only makes his anxiety worse, stomach twisting violently. 

"Okay. I'll text you when I get there." 

He's practically running out of the studio after that, the only thing on his mind was you. He needed to make sure you were okay. Deep down he knew that if this was him, you would've already been here, and he feels guilty all over again. He should've paid more attention, shouldn't have let this slip his mind so easily. He thinks back to your last messages together and how you were talking about your work day, overwhelmed and quite frankly, upset about it all. He should've paid closer attention.

He makes it to yours in record time, legs moving him to the door before he can even think about it. He sends up a quiet prayer to the universe that you had given him an extra key months ago and uses it to unlock the door, slowly pushing it open.

He calls out your name, but no answer.

His eyes sweep over your apartment as he enters, scanning the open space. Your kitchen looked untouched, minus the few dirty dishes that were in your sink. A few boxes of Chinese take-out and some bottles of water. He feels almost relieved. You'd been eating and as far as he can tell you'd been keeping yourself somewhat hydrated, so that was a plus. He knows how bad you can be when you get into this headspace - brain fog, forgetting to do basic things like eating and drinking water. But this... this is a step in the right direction.

His eyes move towards the living room and it's just about the same. A pile of blankets lay together at one end of the couch, pillows scattered along the length of the cushions. You'd been there quite a bit, he can tell, but other than that nothing was too bad.

Noah feels like he can breathe for just a second, eyes going straight to the cracked open door to your bedroom. He hears the faint hum of your television and hears the muffled voice of your favorite characters in your favorite comfort show. His chest tightens. You only ever watch it when things get bad inside your head, when things start to become too overwhelming and you need to cling onto something that you know. Something that won't throw any surprises at you and make things worse. 

He makes his way towards your room, ready to call out your name again as he pushes open your door but stops halfway. You're curled up in your bed, covered in a pile of blankets. He steps closer to get a better look at you and he doesn't think he's ever seen you look so peaceful. Lashes against the tops of your cheeks, lips parted. The crease between your brows is relaxed, which never happens. 

Noah takes a deep breath.

You're alright. He can see that you're safe and sound, at least for now, and that's enough for him. He shuts your door behind him and makes his way back into the main room, taking his shoes off by the door. He takes another deep breath to center himself as he looks around your space, hand finding its way to his hair. 

He decides he'll clean up your kitchen and living room. It isn't too bad, and it won't take him too long. He also just... doesn't want to leave yet. He'll wait until you wake up. Make you talk to him, ask what’s up. Probably make you eat something. Then he'll head home. 

Sounds like a good plan to him.

Even though your door is shut he still tries to be quiet, making sure to carefully wash and put away your dishes without making too much of a fuss. After the dishes, he throws away all the take-out boxes and water bottles. He even makes a note to take the trash out for you when he's all done, because he knows you would've done it for him. 

The constant reminder of you and knowing that you'd do something like this for him, and have, is the motivation he needs to continue. It makes him feel warm all over and he thinks how lucky he is to have someone like you as his best friend.

And he definitely ignores the bitter taste in his mouth at the word best friend. 

It's maybe an hour after he's finished, curled up on your couch that now has its pillows in place, and the pile of blankets are neatly folded and put away, that you finally emerge from your room. You rub the sleep out of your eyes, not noticing him on the couch at first, but when you do you make a noise of surprise that has Noah laughing.

"Hey."

He notices the slight flush of your cheeks but ignores it. "Hi?"

"I uh," He scratches the back of his neck, sending you a sheepish smile. "Hadn't talked to you in a few days. Got worried. So did Jolly. Told me to come over. Check on you. You were sleeping so I just," He throws his arms around, gesturing to the space around him, "cleaned up a little? Figured you would appreciate a clean house when you woke up so..." 

He's talking too much, he knows it, but he can't seem to stop the word vomit from coming out. Noah knows you wouldn't mind, but he was nervous, especially because all you do is stare at him without saying a word. Stare and stare and stare until you sniff, brows furrowing.

"...Thanks."

You're unusually quiet and it makes his stomach turn again. You sniff again and Noah swears you look like you're on the verge of tears, and he sits up on the couch. He watches you closely as you wring your hands together in front of you, mouth opening and closing as if you want to say something. You don't, and Noah catches the exact moment when your bottom lip trembles, and he's moving before he can even think about it.

"Hey. It's okay. You’re okay."

He tries to keep his voice soft and free of any panic, but his heart is beating so rapidly against his chest he swears you can hear it. You sniff again, head shaking as your lip continues to tremble and he does the only thing he can think of. He pulls you into his arms and presses you into his chest. You don't move for a second, but eventually your arms circle around his waist. You squeeze, tight, but he doesn't mind. He just squeezes you back. 

Your body begins to shake as the cries start to rack through you, the sound muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Noah swallows down the lump that was beginning to form, cheek resting on the top of your head. He's always hated when you cry. He himself wasn’t one for much display of emotions, but when it came to the people he cared about, he hated seeing them anything but happy. 

Especially you.

He's seen you cry a few times. Well, more than a few times. Sometimes it was over nothing, and then sometimes it was over an incredibly cute dog you'd seen scrolling on Twitter. He didn't mind those, but when it was over something serious, he fucking hated that. He never wanted you to be anything but happy, and whenever you weren’t, it’s like a piece of him breaks. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispers into your hair, trying to pull you even closer to him.

“Everything.” You eventually mumble against his chest, sucking in a deep breath as you try to control your tears. “Fucking everything is wrong.” 

He fucking hates the way that answer makes him feel. His chest feels like it's on fire, and he swears his heart just fucking broke at how sad you sounded, voice muffled by his shirt. He squeezes you to his chest again.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He wants you to talk about it, to tell him what's wrong so he can make it better. Noah knows it'll probably be damn near impossible to even do that, but god, he'd try absolutely anything to make your tears stop. You take a long moment to respond, trying to control your breathing, before you eventually shake your head against his chest.

"Not right now." 

"Okay.” He mumbles, raising a hand to smooth down your hair. “That's okay, we don't have to."

"Thank you."

You stay like that for a moment, in the middle of your living room. Noah doesn't plan on letting go any time soon, thinking for a split second that he wished he could keep you in his arms forever. If you were there, he'd always know if you were okay. The thought fades before he could think too hard about it when you finally pull away from him, and Noah catches sight of your slight red and blotchy face. He frowns.

He doesn't remember the last time he's ever seen you so sad. So defeated. Whatever was going on really pained you, and he wishes you'd just tell him so he can fix it. Another passing, fleeting thought, but he thinks he'd do just about anything right now to see you smile again. 

"Have you eaten?" He breaks the silence between the two of you, not waiting to hear whatever you were planning on saying.

You blink up at him. "Um... no. Not since this morning. Had some fruit and coffee." 

"I figured." He guides you towards the couch, practically pushing you onto it. You snort when he grabs a throw blanket and dumps it onto you. "Pick something to watch." 

It's not a question, but more of a command, and Noah ignores the way his chest flutters at the small smile you give him. He turned away from you, pushing whatever feeling was brewing inside of him so far down and got his brain to focus. Food. You need food. To be honest, so does he. He’d been so worried about you for the last few hours that he didn’t even think of getting something to eat. 

It takes him a few minutes of rummaging around your kitchen to settle on making something easy - instant ramen. He’s surprised you hadn't eaten it all in the week you’ve been off-grid, but thankful nonetheless. Noah's way too impatient to wait any longer to actually cook something, especially knowing you hadn't eaten anything since this morning. Every so often he looked over his shoulder to watch you, wishing you'd say something, but would find you either staring blankly at the television or your phone.

A bitter taste settles in the back of his throat every time he turns back around to the stove. He hated this, and he fucking hated that he couldn't do a goddamn thing about it.

He brings your bowl to you once he's finished, already making a mental note to clean up the mess he had made while cooking. You blink up at him and reach for it, giving him a quiet, "Thank you."

Noah doesn't verbally say anything, just hums out a response as he ventures back into the kitchen to grab you something to drink. When he comes back he notices you had slowly begun to eat, and he feels his shoulders finally relax. Just knowing you ate something eases him, the tension in his body leaving him completely. You're already reaching out for the glass of water in his hand that he happily hands off to you, giving you a gentle smile.

"Need anything else?"

You shake your head, peering up at him. "No. Just want you to come sit with me." 

That same fluttery feeling beneath his chest returns and he wishes he could ignore it again, but it doesn't go away. No, it stays perched underneath his chest, as if it's decided that it's making a home there and never leaving. He doesn't say anything, just nods at your request before grabbing his own bowl and a Pepsi you had in the fridge before making his way back to you.

You wait until he's settled on the couch to scoot closer to him, legs pressed flushed together. You're already halfway through your ramen and for a split second he forgets that weird feeling in his chest, instead focusing on the intense pride filling him. He was able to get you to eat, he was able to help out in some way. Knowing you were alright for the most part and it was from his doing made him feel good.

The both of you eat in silence as whatever show you decided to put on plays in the background. He’s just now realized it was The Office, and he huffs out a small laugh at something Michael Scott said. Another one of your comfort shows, something easy. 

It isn't until you both are finished with your food and Noah's back in the kitchen cleaning up that you finally speak. He doesn't hear you come up behind him, focused on washing the dishes and making sure everything's clean and good to go, so he can't help but jump when he feels your arms slip around his waist and squeeze.

"Shit." He swears, followed by a breathy chuckle. "You scared me."

You don't say anything to that, just squeeze him harder and he feels you press your face against his back. Then ever so softly, he picks up the faintest, "Thank you," muffled against his back. His face flushes, eyes casting down to the soapy water his hands were currently submerged in. He's glad you can't see the blush on his cheeks, and he fucking hopes you can't hear the way his heart is pounding beneath his chest. Can probably feel it, though, and that makes his face burn even more. 

"For what?" He manages to mumble out, resuming his efforts. Your arms squeeze his waist again.

"For being here." You sound so small. "You don't have to be, but you are, and I can't thank you enough for that."

"You'd do it for me." His response comes easily, voice nonchalant because it's true. He knows you'd do the same for him, and the thought has his stomach flipping every which way. "And have done it for me. It's the least I can do."

You're silent after that but don't part from him, and Noah can't help the smile that spreads across his lips at the feeling of you rubbing your face against him. It makes him feel warm all over, and that damned fluttery feeling in his chest is back yet again. You stay like that until he's finished with the dishes, moving with him as he shuffles to the side to dry them off. You don't pick your head up even when he manages to turn in your arms, finally facing you. 

Noah's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him and now you can rub your face against his chest. He laughs softly, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

"Still don't wanna talk about it?" He knows he's pressing but he can't help it, a part of him still needs to know what's wrong and how he can fix this for you.

You shake your head. "Not yet. Tomorrow, okay? I just... don't wanna think about it tonight."

"Okay." He thinks he can handle that. 

"Thank you." You say again and finally lift your head up from his chest, blinking up at him. There's still a sadness there, roaming around behind your eyes, but not as prevalent as it was earlier. He’s at least done something right. "I'm really fucking lucky to have you, you know that, right?"

The way you're looking up at him is overwhelming, Noah's throat tightening at the softness surrounding your tired eyes. You smile at him and this time it reaches your gaze, not faked but real, and his heart slams against his chest. A thought passes his mind again, something he hasn't thought of in years, and he pushes it back with a hard swallow.

"You're just saying that because you didn't have to do the dishes."

You roll your eyes but that smile never drops from your lips, and Noah thinks he'd like to keep you smiling like that for the rest of his life. 

"Shut up. I'm being serious." You're giggling now, eyes crinkling and he catches a glimpse of the real you for the first time in hours - probably days, weeks even. 

"So am I." Noah yelps when you pinch his side, your laughter growing louder. "Hey!"

"I'm trying to be nice here, asshole. You can at least try, too."

He softens at that, eyes meeting yours. He's well aware his face is on fire right now, cheeks pink.

"You already know I'm lucky to have you. Didn't realize I had to say it."

Even if he doesn't say it often, he is very lucky. So incredibly lucky to have you in his life, for sticking by him and for understanding him. For always being patient with him. Jolly reminds him occasionally how lucky he is to have you, how all of them are lucky to have someone like you in their lives. He doesn't know what the fuck he or anyone did to be so deserving of you, but dammit, he's fucking thankful for it everyday. 

You don't say anything, just continue to beam up at him and Noah can't seem to stop himself, tilting his head down to brush his lips against your forehead. He feels you press further into his chest, if it was even possible, and practically melt in his arms. 

He wishes he could keep you here forever, tucked away in his arms. He thinks there isn't much he wouldn't do to keep you safe, to make sure you were okay, and that thought alone scares him. He'd never admit it, at least not out loud, and he tucks that thought away for another time. Or to possibly be never thought of again, he doesn't know. He doesn't really care.

No, all he cares about right now is that you're okay, at least for now, and that you're nestled against his chest like it's the only place you want to be. 

And that's enough for him. 

[admirationandromantics]

Fast Paced Introduction

Here you go, another one!! Jesus Christ, the last two days in my inbox have been crazy, so please DON'T expect your stuff too soon, alright? Anyways, enjoy some more Chris, I think that's mainly what's in there, lol. Love him <3

Word count: 1,2k (Unedited)

im gonna be annoying af in ur inbox too since u wanna BLAST MINE HAHA Chris with a reader who's like insanely into him at first sight and is like almost Mike levels of flirting after talking for 5 mins i feel like his brain would fry so fast ( its me i have autism and tell people things within an hour of meeting and have no issue being flat with people HA ) -@nerd-space

“And this is Chris, who I’ve told you about” Emily introduces, and I look curiously up at the big blonde. His hair is messy, definitely not styled after he came out of the shower. A pretty smile spreads on his lips, as he lifts his arm, waiting for me to grab it. 

“Nice to meet you” he says, a little dimple on his right chin. Oh god, this man is gorgeous, and Emily didn’t lie about him being my type. His arms are big, probably really muscular under that sweater he’s wearing. I take his hand, making sure not to shake it too hard. His grip is firm, holding just a second too long for my conscience to pick up on it. His watch reflects a little light as he shifts, my eyes going straight to it. A decent one, silver. 

“Nice to meet you too, Emily didn’t mention you wore glasses” I say, immediately beating myself up. Glasses? What’s the point of that? 

“Oh, um, yeah I do” he gets kinda nervous, and I rush to save myself. 

“No, I mean, they look good, like really sexy and all of that. I mean to say that they look good on you, and she mentioned you, just not that and yeah” I babble, and Emily drags me away before I can continue. 

“Girl, I’ve never seen you like that” she smiles, an arm around my shoulders.  

“That’s because we party together, you only see the sexy and flirtatious me”

“Then get some alcohol into your blood, because if you talk like that again, I might have to leave you”

I gasp dramatically, hand going to my heart. 

“You wouldn’t” 

“Oh, but I would” 

The rest of the night goes better, Mike flirting with absolutely anyone, Matt and Ashley talking, and Sam hanging out with someone I’ve never seen before. My confidence is on top again, finally able to put that awkward episode behind me. It was just a small mistake, nothing wrong at all. Considering how hot he is, anyone could’ve made that mistake. It probably happens to him daily. 

He’s standing in a corner with Josh, who I’ve luckily met before, so starting a conversation wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. I walk over, keeping myself steady and lifting my boobs. Just a little. 

“Hey, Joshy!” I greet, and his arms immediately go around me. 

“Eyy, you came! Got a ride with Em, huh?” 

“That’s right” 

He turns to Chris, who has a small smile plastered on his lips. Oh, and he’s cute too. How many things were going to make me like him even more? Josh looks back and forth from us, and I turn my gaze to him. 

“Have you met?” 

“Yeah, Emily took the introduction” I explain, taking another sip of my drink. 

“She did pretty fine by herself as well” Chris laughs, meeting my eyes. Oh, and he is playful too? He’s got no idea what he’s gotten himself into. 

“Well, can’t help myself when he’s exactly my type” I comment, his cheeks reddening. Josh takes a small step back, looking over the blonde. 

“You know what, I hadn’t realised it before, but he is your type” 

“I know, right?” 

“So why aren’t you two in this corner alone, making something happen?” 

“Um, guys, I’m standing right here” Chris interrupts, hand behind his neck as he tries to form the words. 

“Oh, we’re aware” Josh laughs, nudging my arm and taking a few steps away. 

“Can I get you two anything to drink? A glass for the lady, a beer for my bro?” 

“Yes, please!” 

“I’ll be back in a bit!” 

I turn to Chris again, seeing that he’s put down the previous beer. It’s probably empty. I can’t help my stare, eyes going over his arms and fingers. 

“So” I begin, ripping myself from my trance. “How’s the night going?” 

“Well, pretty good so far, it’s a bit hot here though” he says, finger going to the hem of the neck, letting some air in. 

“You know, you could just take it off” I propose, making sure to add a slight suggestive tone. 

“Oh, I wish, but I don’t have anything underneath” 

“Even better” 

His eyes widen, and I realise the gravity of my words again. Wow, how this man makes me fail, I’m usually quite good with words. I give him my glass, which he holds, and start working on his arms. I drag his sweater up, noticing the muscles and veins popping as I do. He’s right, he’s very warm. His skin is burning up, making me want to take off my clothes and snuggle up to him. I do the same with his other arm, all whilst he holds my drink. 

“There you go, a bit better?” 

“Very much, yeah” he smiles, cheeks still bright pink. I think about the way I’ve been behaving, getting to touch and talk to him the way I have. I need to ask the essential question. 

“So, I should probably ask, do you have a girlfriend?” 

“I would have to say no” 

My eyes widen. He doesn’t? How hasn't this gorgeous man been caught yet? 

“What, how come?” 

“I guess it’s just not in the cards” 

“You’ve got to be kidding, right? You’re a hot piece of meat, I’m struggling keeping my clothes on where I stand right now” 

He laughs a little, hand coming up to cover his flushed face. I reach up, taking it away. 

“No, stop, don’t cover yourself. I love you looking like this” 

He stops laughing, our faces closing in as his eyes flutter. Oh gosh, he actually is the cutest man I’ve ever seen in my life. His mouth slightly opens as he’s closing in. 

“In the middle of all of this, I forgot to tell you how beautiful you are” he whispers, thumb caressing my cheek as we draw nearer. 

“Well, judging by how I see you, it bodies me well that you find me attractive” 

He takes hold of my waist, quickly turning us around and making my back slam into the wall. Before I can catch my breath, his lips are on mine, roughly caressing and eating. He knows how to kiss too? This man is a fidget of my imagination, I just know it. 

His hands wander to my waist, resting on my upper hips. I take hold of the back of his neck, nails carefully scratching, making him moan into the kiss. My other hand goes to his sweater, pulling him closer into me. 

“If you’re gonna go for it, get a room, don’t make everyone watch” Josh suddenly says. And we both turn our attention to him. He’s standing there like a lost dog, a couple of drinks in each hand. I take a breath, fixing my hair quickly and reaching over to grab mine. 

“Don’t worry Joshua, and thank you for the drink” 

“Um, yeah, we were just trying something” 

Josh smirks, eyebrows lowered in a sly manner as he leans back. 

“Yeah man, that’s why her lipstick is smeared across your lips and neck” Oh shit, I went for his neck and I didn’t even notice? Maybe I’ve had a couple too many of these. I look down on the red drink, some different liquids mixed. Oh, fuck it. I drink the whole thing in one go, before grabbing Chris’s hand and walking further down the hallway. He turns a little to give Josh a wave. 

“As I said, just trying something!”

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Swords in the Court: Peace at Last

Secret Garden

Yandere Don John x Reader

Word count: 5k+

Part 2

Warning: Violence, blood, masturbation, misogyny and a hint of religious rigidity (the fic is set in the medieval era, what else do you expect?)

Note: This story is set in a fictionalised historical setting. Though there are clear inspirations drawn from the real world and history, this tale in no way tries to explain, change or state any historical, political, communal, geographical or religious 'facts'. Kindly treat this short-series as it is, a fiction

Unedited and poor attempt at medieval-world description

He is swinging.

Muffled sounds, yelling, groaning, hooves, metal....

He is laid somewhere.

Cool cloth on his face, and a faint fragrance he fails to grasp, despite being almost within his reach.

Cool, warm–it burns!

John gasps awake, feeling a particular area of his torso burning.

There are muffled voices around him. He blinks, trying to clear his vision, but it dims again.

The next time John wakes up, he is startled by a jerk. Through his limited vision, he can make out two people struggling on the floor. Grunting, he sits up, despite his arms shaking and his vision unclear, but his eyes manage to focus every now and then. 

—--

You know you should not be visiting Lord John’s chamber at this unholy hour. But the royal healer had given you a vial of essential medicine that you forgot to administer. That is the excuse you have managed to come up with as you near his chamber with a water-filled vial. 

Why would you do that?

You should be leaving for the capital by now.

But the Earl and Duke requested that you stay for the feast, which has most of the residents distracted at the moment. Your steps slow down when you do not see a single guard outside his chamber. 

Something does not feel right.

You rush inside his chamber just in time to find a maid holding a dagger. Before you know it, you pounce on her. She gasps, caught off guard and the weapon drops while the world around you tilts as you crash on the floor with her. 

“Who sent you?” You ask, breathlessly trying to pin her, but she elbows you on your side, making you wheeze.

Perhaps fate truly is yours this night. By pure chance, you manage to hold her ankle as she tries to flee, it earns you a haphazard kick on your chin that could have been a lot worse had you not been holding her ankle. But it makes your teeth sink into your lower lip. You do not even register the metallic tang on your tongue as you pull her down with all the strength you can gather. 

“You are going to be found out and beheaded anyway but—bitch!”

Your attempt to negotiate is met with another hard shove. It makes you cry out and lose your hold on her before she scrambles towards the dagger and raises back on her feet. You follow after her, but she already has the dagger in her hold. She is now attacking a sat-up John, who groans, trying to keep the blade away.

It happens so fast. You are not thinking of the consequences, but you get hold of the first heavy item that you find and swing across her face. It turns out to be an elaborate candle stand—heavy, intricate, now marred with the girl’s blood who has fallen, bleeding on the floor. 

“Are you alright?” You rush to a groaning John whose blood tricks through his palm. The struggle has opened his wound.

“Guards! GUARDS!!”

—-----

There is stillness in the chamber, except for the hushed whispers. The ‘maid’ is dead, and while you recover from the shock of having killed somebody, your mind is flooded with questions.

“This is a grave misstep in our honoured man’s safety and it shall be investigated.” the Earl tries to assure.

“Until then…”

“Until then me and Borachio shall be in this chamber with John,” Conrade speaks up.

“He’s right, we cannot give the snakes another opportunity,” Borachio adds.

“Lord Juan must rest. He has already done so much, gone through—”

“I am well, my Lord. Sleeping had almost cost me my life.” 

Whether it is the herbs mixed with pain or an ambush of emotions, it feels as if his voice has gained a layer of gruffness as he cuts off the Duke

“I would like some peace for now.”

“S-sure, My Lord, the knights shall be guarding your chamber every hour of the day and the night from now on.”

With that, the Earl begins to urge everyone to exit the chamber, leaving behind only his two most trusted friends. You follow them out as well.

“My Lady…”

Your steps cease and for the first time in the night after what has transpired, you look into Don John’s eyes. You are yet to come to terms with the fact that you have indeed killed someone. But his eyes seem to have the most alluring shade of brown, especially under the candlelight. The rest of the people have left, leaving only four of you in the chamber.

“I cannot thank you enough…You have risked your life to save mine. I have no clue how to return this priceless favour.”

You did not save his life for a favour. You were expecting nothing at all, you still are not.

“I expect nothing in return, My Lord. I acted on reflexes and by God’s grace, you are unharmed.

“Seems like I have cheated death too many times now.” His lips curve up in a cynical but faint smile before he nods “You have been exceptionally kind and generous to me. I shall never forget it.”

You try searching for anything other than the pure gratitude and admiration you see in his eyes. You can find nothing else.

“You are our honoured guest, I was doing my duty.” 

He saved me once, I am simply returning the favour

You manage to give an appropriate response despite your mind’s state and with a nod, you greet him good night and exit the chamber. Once outside, you feel like you can finally breathe.

—---

The rest of the two days pass in peace—two days. That is how long Lord John can wait before he insists on riding his horse again, against the royal physician's advice. By now, a letter from the capital has arrived, revealing that the Emperor of Spain has officially extended his support to the Kingdom. George has been captured and taken to the capital, and you deem the King of France no fool.

Peace reigns for now.

The journey back is slower, but at least there is no hovering threat of war. Back in the palace, the wedding preparations have taken full swing. 

“You had me on the edge for whole four days, five days, if we count all.” Maddie is by your side as soon as you enter the palace, while a grand welcome is prepared for the commander, and Lord Juan who volunteered and risked his life in the battle.

“I am well, as you can see. Lord John though…By now you must have heard what has transpired.” 

Maddie nods and squeezes your shoulder “Everybody here speaks of your bravery.”

“I didn’t want—” Your throat closes in as you vacantly stare at the crowd cheering for the men entering the palace gates or horses “ I didn’t want to…”

“Hush, I know, I know. Everybody knows you have the Queen’s support.”

You understand that nothing is permanent here.

“But, I don’t understand, what were you doing there in his chamber at that time? There was a feast, right?”

 Your friend’s question makes your thoughts still for a moment and by pure coincidence, Lord John rides through the gates, the cheerful uproar heightens but his eyes rise to meet yours as you stand along with your friend, waiting from above.

“He’s looking at us,” Maddie whispers.

You dare to think that there’s something akin to a smile in his eyes.

“I know.” 

You reply before dropping your gaze and greeting him with a curtsy, subtle enough not to garner attention, but obvious in your movements for him.

—---

Ever since the battle, every waking moment, the image flashes behind John’s eyes—the man, wearing the Kingdom’s armour attacking him. His blade was crimson, and the helmet protected his identity. He was so close, and yet, due to the brutality of warfare and general chaos, John could not quite catch any sign of identification.

But, does he need to?

“I do not understand, you have been quiet since the attack, don’t you want to find out?” Borachio whispers into his ears as they sit to bear witness to the beheadings—a punishment for treason.

The name of the next rebel baron is announced as soon as the fourth head rolls down to the ground.

“Do not appear distracted, Borachio. This is a very important event.” John’s tone gives away nothing, surprising his friend.

“John—”

“We shall not speak of it now.” His jaw clenches with his words and Borachio is wise enough not to poke further.

Throughout his life, John has been playing a delicate dance with death. First, as a boy, when fortune has been on his side and perhaps death, slightly merciful—why else would he survive then?

But as he grew into a man, he learnt that death always followed him, especially as long as he was in the palace—a glaring threat to the Crown Prince’s claim to the throne. He never released how much the weight of the title of ‘bastard’ held until his first brush with death, the first time his steps faltered and he almost fell into the waiting abyss. 

There have been times when he was ready to embrace death—for so long, John the Bastard deliberately danced on the risky side of death, waiting, just waiting to fall finally and be free. But once he understood the potential he had and the power his sword and mind wielded—the freedom that came with being a bastard—his steps slowed and turned more graceful. He wished to live. Ever since, he has not been dancing with death with open arms, he has been cheating death, bidding his time. 

But Don Juan, the recognised bastard knows that death shall take him when it decides it must. He will live. He will live to rise.

He has always been ambitious, but never truly eyed the throne. It was too much. He hated the court, after all. And yet he is a threat. Every breath he takes is poison to his own so-called family. They fear him and paint him as a villain. John knows he is no noble-hearted hero. But he is not a villain either, not yet at least.

He has been a fool, though. He thought that once the Crown was secured, they would let him be. His mentor has never been wrong, the old man told him. But he should have known better. He had enough.

John’s steely gaze remains fixed on the ongoing beheadings. 

Oh how fragile the human life is, one forceful swing and everything turns into a ‘has been’. No sky cries, no leaf flutters and the world moves as it always has. Great deaths make no difference. Great lives do. 

John’s eyes turn to the Crown Prince, sitting with his brothers.

They feared that a child would bring chaos to their empire, and marked him as an enemy ever since his first breath into this world, while all John has ever done is to avoid conflict. As a boy, he stood no chance against them anyway, and he respected his mother and her choices. But the world he is a part of is not run by kindness. She did not believe in revenge, she did not like brutality. But she is gone now. 

He thought choosing tact, winning the Emperor’s favour could earn him what he deserved, a noble title—he could then retire far away from the court, maybe take a wife—he never wanted the throne, he wanted a regal title, he wished to have many dreamed of, rising from nothing, they could keep the crown. And yet they stabbed him from the back— even when he fought for the Empire’s favour. 

But this will be the last time he allows it. He has had enough.

They always feared that the Empire’s bastard son, the true firstborn would be the cause of their downfall. 

So be it.

John turns his eyes back on the executioner as he swings the weapon, cutting off another head—clean and precise, with crimson all over.

He shall turn all their fears into reality.

John vows to himself, watching the head roll down.

Picking up the previously untouched cup, he gestures to a servant to fill it with wine. 

He shall give them a reason to fear him. They have watered the poison tree for too long, now it bears the fruits, and they must consume it. Must face the consequences of their deeds. 

—------

You do not understand its necessity. Why does your presence matter here? You stand behind the Queen and the King, tense and barely keeping your tears from showing. Every death reminds you of the night.

There was blood on the candlestand. It was heavy, carved with gold, maybe—you don’t remember.  But you remember how you hit the girl with all your strength, bringing it down to the side of her head. There was so much blood—-on the floor, on the side of her disfigured face, from the gash on her head. Her hair was matted with blood, her eyes were cold and open and—

A hand on your elbow makes you flinch. 

“The Queen,” Maddie whispers, nudging you.

You look at the Queen waiting with her cup of wine.

“Forgive me, Your Grace.” With quick, precise movements, you refill her cup. She looks away but gestures for you to bend and come close. You oblige immediately.

“It is important to stay, George has not been beheaded yet. So chin up and watch. Get used to it if you wish to stay in the court and rise.” 

You stiffen and gulp but nod anyway

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The world is no kind place, you know this much and you have witnessed enough to know how brutal the court can be.

Straightening up, you square your shoulders and steel your heart as you watch George being brought for execution. He is given no privilege of any speech before his death. He has not even confessed to his sin, he does not need to. With his baleful eyes, he glares at the Queen and the King. His lips move as he keeps his eyes lacking any fear or remorse until the executioner swings the axe and his head rolls down, joining the rest on the ground.

You let out a slow quivering breath. This is the first time you have witnessed so many executions together. The Queen ordered that you must be present, so here you are, watching headless bodies fall. 

But you know deep down, that if you cannot stand to witness brutality, you will never be able to rise, have a place in the court. Is it not what you want? What have you always wanted?

Your gaze flickers towards Lord John, sitting at a distance, drinking wine while he watches with the nonchalance that you know only comes with a certain proximity to death and bloodshed. Perhaps he has witnessed many.

 Perhaps that is why he is where he is, at the edge of Dukedom. You conclude, looking away. You want power, so you must play safe now. Lord John seems like a dangerous temptation in flesh and bones.

—------

You feel ashamed, but not half as much as you should. Is it not a sin? Touching yourself at the thought of another man? Regardless of the fact that you have no husband or lover, yet. You lay in your bed, finally able to relax. There is nothing to worry about other than the upcoming feast in celebration of victory, a masque shall be hosted as well. As the Lady-in-Waiting, you have the privilege to choose from some of the finest materials to be sewn together. But none shall be finer than the royal family, of course.

Should you not be wondering about the dress? You need to oversee the food arrangements along with the Earl of Casterwood and, of course, make sure that there is plenty of wine incoming.

You do worry about it, you have been, but you as if seamlessly, your thoughts have shifted to the enigmatic Bastard Prince— Lord John. You admit that throughout your years in the court, you have shielded yourself with the Queen’s shadow, being close to her, resisting temptation. Any fool would think you are religious, but you are not, none of them are. But you know that it is impossible without marriage if you have to climb the ranks. You are a woman, after all.

You admit that apart from a brief, fiery affair with a squire around your age, that sizzled down as quickly as it had burst in flames, no man has made your head turn. He was too eager to bury himself between your legs and you could not have done that to yourself. You never intended to marry him anyway. You never allowed him to go beyond your breasts, and he was sloppy even then. A boy. Yes, you were no more than fourteen, but even then you knew you did not want him, you wanted more.

But Lord John has managed to turn your head and keep your gaze. You are afraid to admit that he is, indeed an attractive man and not just objectively—there are so many of them in the court already. But you find him handsome in every way you know attraction works for you. He is the only man you are afraid can disarm and seduce you before you know it and it has kept you on edge, you want to keep your distance. 

In the darkness of the night though, you cannot help but remember him as you saw him at Katherine's. The body tanned to a beautiful bronze—almost golden, and the way his sheen of sweat made him glow under filtering sun rays. His raven hair is always brushed to perfection, but that day, it was tousled so perfectly, strands falling on his forehead, as if fueling the fire that simmers just below the surface of his deep, dark eyes—the perfect brown, under the sun, it was dipped in gold. His nose almost matches his eyes in sharpness, the straight defined line that shapes his handsome face to allure even the most indifferent eyes. But despite the sharpness and subdued fire in his eyes, there is the subtlety of something—maybe the worldly experience, but it almost seems…soft.

Yet, he possesses a body that seems crafted by some divine force. But you know, it is crafted by skill, war and scars. You saw him that day, half-naked, the pants so loose it almost exposed him to your eyes. Something about the deep, straight scar on his stomach makes him twice more attractive. 

You remember the glimpse of his back against the supple, thighs, the way he bent as his hips rocked in rhythm, it was just a glimpse but that was enough to know. Your hand finds comfort between your legs and you grasp your inner thigh, imagining it to be his hand. They are big, you have noticed that too, but even with the fleeting, formal touches, they have been gentle with you. Tonight, you allow yourself the delusion of a fairytale, imagining him to be a loyal, gentle lover, even though you know that it is far from the truth, none of the men from any royal court can be loyal. You can bet from the stories and whispers you have heard, rarely a man is gentle or cares about anything beyond his own pleasure. You envision the loosely hung pants around his lower waist, the strings in his hold as you rub yourself, slow and firm at first, imagining his thumb on your pearl.

 That day, you heard his laughter—honeyed, deep and echoing in that chamber, and his moans that rang with Kathrine’s. There was an elegant sweetness to the raw masculine sounds. You gasp, feeling the pleasure building, remembering the way his body glowed, the way he sauntered towards you, the mirth in his eyes along with the dying heat of pleasure. You imagine his lips on your breasts, his hips along with yours, moving in rhythm as you gasp, biting your lips to suppress the sounds of pleasure as you come undone, your slick covering your fingertips. 

Warmth flushes in your cheeks and the rest of your body when you open your eyes, floating down from the pleasure with laboured breaths, you sigh and stare vacantly at the ceiling, feeling cold and ashamed of touching yourself to the thought of a man whose intentions are still veiled.

For now, Lord John is an enigma you are strangely drawn to, but you have enough confidence in yourself to not make any life-altering mistakes. Folks like you do not get second chances.

—-----

A few days before the great feast when the engagement and the Spanish alliance are to be declared, the King decides to host a grand game to amuse himself and his guests. The Empire’s fleet shall touch the Kingdom’s coasts in a few more nights—until then, the festivities keep on their swing.

“Does it taste better than the last?”

Maddie and you have chosen a table that offers an unrestricted view of the ground only a few feet below.

“I like the tarts more.” You disagree, taking another tart onto your plate.

“Look at that, how the energy has shifted now. People are cheering for the Princess, the king, the Queen. These days have been so tensed, I couldn’t sleep, worrying about you.”

You smile and hold Madeline’s hand across the table. “It’s done now. The Pretender is dead, France would not dare to take a head-on conflict with Spain by our side, and all we need to worry is about our role in a wedding that shall go down in history.”

“By God’s grace, may this be true.” She squeezes your hand and you return the gesture keenly.

She glances at the ongoing sports when something catches her eye. “Look at that stallion. Isn’t it magnificent?”

You follow her gaze to find Lord John riding his infamous stallion, Igor. You have heard whispers about Igor’s speed, power, and rebellious nature. His hooves will kick anyone but Lord John. Under the autumn sun, Lord John rides his beloved jet-black stallion, its mane dancing with the wind. The simple, white and beige attire suits him. He appears regal with a rugged edge, the kind of man they would write and sing ballads about.

You return your gaze to your plate as soon as you realise that you have been staring longer than you should. You have a world before you. A simple mistake can dismantle everything—all you have earned and built. Besides, the Queen is cautious about him, and so are you.

“What? Don’t you find him handsome? The dashing half-brother of the Crown Prince who led a battle against a looming threat and won?”

You let out a chuckle and meet your friend’s gaze “Write a ballad about him.”

Madeline shrugs “I might, you know me. But there has to be a lady love for that. He wins every battle just to return to her. Someone he burns for.”

“How romantic.” You roll your eyes and drink from your cup “Shall we find him a bride then?”

Maddie tilts her head and scoffs “I think he already has a name in mind.”

You scoff and shake your head when she continues to stare at you, “Oh come on, why on earth would you think that?”

“Mhm.” She smirks and takes a sip from her cup as well “It is subtle but keen eyes can never miss,”

“You’re thinking too far Maddie. He is pleasant for the sight and certainly knows how to treat a lady but…there’s nothing more.” 

You clarify, smoothening the non-existent lines on your dress while you try not to focus on your heating cheeks and think about his piercing gaze. You watch as his sword cuts through hanging targets. You never bothered to investigate what they are, but they seem heavy and are constantly moving due to being hanged from the high branches and clean cuts are impressive. Most men there struggle while he makes it seem as easy as cutting butter. 

You scoff and look away. Men and their silly games. The court is the real game. You pretend not to hear how the young girls and women swoon over him, but they try not to be obvious. After all, he is the Bastard Prince, his fortunes are uncertain.

“How much do you think he knows of the court?” You put the question out of whim.

“Looking at where he is, he must be good,” Madeline replies.

“Hm, a man who knows the battlefield and the court…” you trail off, leaning closer before continuing “You think he desires the throne, Maddie?”

Madeline sighs and leans away, resting her back “Who doesn’t?”

There, your answer. The one reason you were looking for is to ground yourself. Don John is not the man you should harbour any feelings for. This response is the water you need to kill the simmering fire.

—----

You find yourself in the chapel on your knees. You have been visiting regularly these days, paying attention, searching for a word, some explanation, assurance.

You did not want to kill that girl, it was a desperate move in the heat of the moment. You know it, God knows this is true but she haunts you, that night haunts you in your dreams. The silence in the chapel is soothing to you, a little place you can hide away from side-eyes, whispers and scoffs.

Your fingers intertwine in a praying position as you wait for an answer—a thought, an explanation, an epiphany? Anything. You are faltering, you know you are. Are your ambitions impossible? Is it a sign that you stop? You have not even begun.

“Show me a sign, Father. Lead me out of this darkness.”

“May the light shine upon us all.” 

You flinch and turn around, only to find Lord John sitting on one of the benches, head slightly bowed, eyes closed and fingers crossed in prayer. But they open in no time and the hypnotic gaze meets yours.

“My Lord?” You raise and greet him.

“Please.” He smiles, and it makes your heart flutter in all the ways you would not want it to. “John will be fine, I don’t mind.” He shifts, making space for you to sit. “Do me the honour, my Lady.”

You want to say that in the traditional sense, you are no lady either. You are safe as long as the Queen has power, or you have her favour. Instead, you smile, slightly confused but walk towards him anyway to sit beside him.

“Forgive me,” He begins after a moment of pause.

“Forgive you? You rode all the way to the battlefield, fought a battle that was not even yours, risked everything—-”

“But you saved my life. And I feel I have not thanked you enough.” He finishes.

The setting sun casts perfect rays over the glass windows, which are painted with intricacies, and some of the light falls on the side of his face. He almost seems…harmless and sweet. But you would not fall for that. You are not one of those sheltered, privileged court maidens, trying to find fairytales in real life like beautiful fools. 

Maybe it’s not their fault. Deep down, you know you do resent them. You are not the most enchanting rosy-cheeked maiden, nor do you have an aristocratic surname to make up for it. You have nothing but your wit and knowledge, and you hold on to them like the lifelines they are. 

“I was doing my duty, My Lord.” 

His smile conveys more than simple politeness, but he turns to look ahead before you can read him.

“Good, because I thought you were repaying the favour. I saved your face that day at Katherine’s and so you saved my life.”

Remembering that day, you had slightly shrugged off the garbs of courtly mannerisms. You had been as direct as you could to him, and perhaps, he had been honest to you.

“You said you want ‘everything’ that day.”

He smiles but keeps his eyes on the alter ahead “I still do.”

“And what does ‘everything’ mean? Don’t you have everything you could possibly ask for?”

“Are you afraid?”

“Of you?” You scoff, though deep down, there might be a seedling of truth to it “No, My Lord.”

“Good, fear hinders growth in this world. So does guilt, and plain kindness. You have come so far, I understand how it must feel, to receive disapproving stares, thinly veiled threats and reminders that you do not belong here. I would know.”

You have been staring at the altar as well, the candles’ steady glow has something hypnotic about it. But his words make you turn to him. You can only imagine the amount of pain he had been put through being a bastard, living right under the same roof as his half-brothers and their mother, a reminder of the Emperor’s infidelity.

“I can only imagine the conflict and pain you might have faced growing up.” You mean it, you cannot possibly fathom his pain.

“There, and the snakes will have you…” He clicks his fingers and turns to you. “...just like that.”

You frown, confused.

“You wish to rise, don’t you? People like us know that we are meant for greater things but we don’t have an easy path.”

You cannot deny that, but choose to respond with silence.

“Whatever happened that night, you did to save my life. I know you feel guilty. But allow me to give you this piece of advice. This will not be the last time your hands have someone else’s blood on them if you make up your mind to rise in court. How do you think Empires are made?”

“I do not wish to rule.”

John raises an eyebrow “Everybody wants to rule the world. It’s only a matter of chance and time.” He turns to meet your gaze

“So your ‘everything’ encompasses a lot.”

His smile is cryptic this time “I have everything I could possibly ask for, you said it yourself, My lady.” There’s a sharpness in his gaze, the simmering fire you had first seen, just below the surface.

“Then I am happy for you.”

“And you, My Lady. Do you have everything you could possibly want? Would you dare to eyes a higher seat? Something more than the court here could offer you?”

You frown, unable to read him this time “I…I don’t think I understand what you suggest my Lord.”

He turns to the alter again “I think you would do excellent in the Spanish court.” 

“As the Princess’ Lady-in-Waiting?”

He is silent for a moment before he makes his intention clear “As my partner. We can empathise with each other and are familiar with the conflicts we face. Besides, you could evade the sorry fate of marrying a fat old man and have all your potential wasted being a nurse.”

“Are you…Are you offering me to be your mistress?”

What else can it be? John is an ambitious man and he would choose a worthy ally through marriage. Despite your best efforts, it stings you as you gulp a lump down your throat. 

“I find you fitting and your company quite pleasing. You have ambition and potential for court politics, while the heart to never judge someone by their birth.”

“You ask me to be your mistress, right at the chapel and try to make it sound like you are taking vows.” You can barely keep your voice from cracking as you raise, struggling to keep your tears from showing. 

Why must it hurt you far deeper than it has to? More than it is supposed to?

“If your sharp and knowing eyes could read even an ounce of me, My Lord, “ you grit out “Then you you would know, I am no whore.”

With that, you give him a courteous bow and march out of the place, no longer trusting your voice or your eyes.

—-----

You manage to hold back till you are back in your room, but as soon as you shut the door, the tears flow. You are not sobbing—-that can be counted as slightly dramatic for your standards. You simply are hurt. 

What were you even thinking?

John is an ambitious man, standing on the edge of everything he has built from the ground, at the very doorstep of the life he probably had envisioned. Dukedom is a surety after his heroic victory at the battle. Of course, he will seek a strong alliance with a powerful family through marriage. 

Why would he choose you? A nobody. Someone with nothing to offer.

He has, royal blood running in his veins after all. Perhaps he considers that he is doing you the honour by offering the position of his mistress.

The thought fills you with anger. Surely, he has never led you on. Whatever silly attraction you have developed for the half-prince is purely your doing, your fault.

But no more of it. You wanted answers, God gave you one. You have something to keep yourself grounded. You must not falter now.

****

[petit-papillion]

As a follow-up to some previous discussions regarding whether Charles was on board with Lewis coming to Ferarri or not:

I firmly believe Fred is at Ferrari because Charles wanted him there. And I think (again, all my opinion) Fred was asked to not only turn things around for Ferrari, but to build a team around Charles. Ferrari wants that dream of their homegrown, immensely likeable driver becoming their next WDC. Think Monza 2019 to the power of 100.

So Charles needs a teammate who will be able to help him get there, and it was clear that was not going to be Carlos. Different driving styles and setups, different comfort levels (when Carlos felt comfortable, the car did not perform well. When Charles felt comfortable, Carlos struggled to keep up.), and different attitudes (for Charles the team result always comes first, Carlos often wants to best his teammate).

I'm not sure who else Fred may have had his eye on to replace Carlos, but with John Elkann pursuing Lewis, I'm sure both Fred and Charles were in the know. And to have Lewis at Ferrari, I mean, come on! Look at the excitement it's created this week. It's a massive move by Ferrari to have two star drivers.

And yes, we know Lewis is (was?) hungry for that elusive 8 wdc, but he also dreamed of driving for Ferrari since he was a kid. So to be able to make that dream come true at the end of his career no doubt means the world to him.

Thinking about what this means for future (potential) championships: I think Ferrari has more to gain from Charles becoming the next WDC than Lewis getting his 8th. Yes, it would be another notch in Lewis's more-than-impressive belt, but it would mean so much more if it was their FDA-graduate, pseudo-Italian, lovable talent. Now they would have 2 WDCs to boast of. The boost in confidence it would give Charles would be huge. And his reputation at Ferrari would be cemented in history.

This doesn't mean I see Lewis as a number 2 driver. Absolutely not. More as equal partners with the common goal to lead Ferrari back to WCC, and eventually WDC. Ferrari will need two solid title contenders to steal enough points from alien-level Max.

Which also reminds me about how this move has put so much pressure on both Mercedes and Red Bull who now find themselves up against a team with a power duo of drivers. Red Bull only having 1 strong driver who's been single-handedly carrying their championships, and Merc is in an even bigger bind having lost their star driver. I'm sure George will be excited to be out of Lewis's shadow, but I think he still had a lot to learn from him. I guess he can still do so this year, but it won't be the same.

I firmly believe that, long term, Ferrari will be betting on Charles to lead the team, with Lewis having an important role as Ferrari's ambassador after he retires. Short term, they need two drivers who are on the same page with car development, driving capabilities, and team focus. I think that is exactly what they will have with Charles and Lewis.

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A digital drawing of Minos Prime from Ultrakill, who's wearing a strapless slit dress and sandals of the same deep purple. He faces towards and slightly to the right of the camera, his head is tilted further right. With one hand he gestures in a vague pointing motion, his arm folded and held close to his body. There is nothing in the background, but bracing himself on one arm, Minos is implied to be leaning against something about the height of a countertop. The background is a blank purplish black, save for three diagonal stripes in the colors of the bisexual flag. End ID]

Shading study that quite literally came to me in a dream two weeks ago, after this post apparently beamed itself into my mind

(also a few edits below the cut! they're very slight but whatever :])

[Start ID. Three different versions of the previous drawing. The first changes the tone of the lighting from blue to pink, and similarly the shading from pink to blue. The second replaces the faint black border with pink, purple and blue, syncing with the stripes in the background. The third combines both these changes. End ID]

[dorkicon]

bitching abt homophobia n shit at my job in the tags o7 happy pride

[tariah23]

I fell asleep and woke up from a bad jjk dream where kenjaku took over Gojo’s body- (after reading the new chapter…)

[wabblebees]

.

[gregmarriage]

i have never been to a new year’s party, and i have never had a new year’s kiss. this year is no different x

[phagodyke]

well.

[chahnniesroom]

night again

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in hindsight, visiting chan's studio right before a comeback isn't one of your best ideas. what was supposed to be a pleasant surprise leaves you spiraling into self-doubt, wondering if chan even wants to be in a relationship with you at all.

word count: 6.4k

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, insecurities, reader not eating due to stress

a/n: the long awaited 'he calls you clingy' fic! title is from the english translation of 또 다시 밤 (twilight)

read it on ao3 | masterlist

You love your job. It's challenging for sure and the expectations from upper management are often unforgiving, but you’re proud of how hard you've worked and everything that you've accomplished in the past few years at your company. 

As you've gained experience, you've slowly been given more and more responsibility. You've grown out of your junior role and though you're thrilled by the pay raise and prospect of being a team lead rather than being led by one, it's also daunting.

When you and your new team are assigned an important project with tight deadlines, you're determined to prove yourself. It's implied that you're going to have to have to dedicate a significant amount of time to finish it and while you're no stranger to long hours, it means that any plans you have of seeing your boyfriend, Chan, are out the window.

The timing is not terrible, Stray Kids has a comeback scheduled in about a week so you didn't think that you would be able to spend that much time with Chan anyway, but you usually try to surprise the boys at one of the music shows with a cake and some home cooked food.

Luckily, you've already been planning for this. Although nothing had been confirmed, you had expected that this project would be awarded to your company and you've already been trying to spend more time with Chan than usual in preparation for the busy season ahead for both of you.

Still, you can't help but agree with your best friend at work after she complains how little she's going to see her partner this month. Jinjoo doesn't know who your boyfriend is, but the two of you are close enough that you’ve shared that you have one and that work takes up a lot of his time. You've gushed to her about the sweet things that Chan has done for you and you've admitted that you think he's the one.

“You should bring him dinner sometime!” she exclaims when you mention you're not sure when the next time you'll be able to see Chan will be.

“Well, he’s really busy-” you start to say.

“That’s the beauty of it. I’m sure he would appreciate if you brought him food at work, especially if he’s anything like my partner and gets so caught up with work that they forget to eat sometimes,” she insists.

“That’s true.”

“Just trust me, Y/n. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t sure that it’d work. My partner loves when I do this. It’s literally the perfect way to take some time for each other before you’re both too busy. Even if he's super busy, his work can't be bad enough that he’s not allowed to eat, right?”

You agree somewhat reluctantly. You're still unsure about whether or not Chan would appreciate you barging in unannounced, but it is a cute idea and Jinjoo's confidence is enough to convince you.

The next day after work, you head to the company and order takeout for a late dinner for you and Chan, picking it up along the way. It reminds you of earlier in your relationship before you had gotten your current position and when Stray Kids were just gaining popularity. Both of you enjoyed having more casual date nights that provided more privacy as opposed to going out to fancy places and it makes you even more excited to see his reaction.

About a year after you started dating Chan, he insisted that you get a pass to get into JYP Entertainment without having to fill out a visitor's form and have someone pick you up. It has definitely come in handy more than a few times, although you try to limit the number of visits you make. Even though you're allowed to be there, it still feels intimidating to be in the building, like someone is going to recognize that you're not an employee and accuse you of being a sasaeng.

Luckily the late hour means that you make it to Chan's studio without having to interact with anybody except the security at the door, who had waved you through without a second thought. You had double checked with Felix earlier in the day to make sure that Chan didn't have any schedules or dinner plans, so you directly knock on his door without texting or calling him beforehand. 

“Y/n?” he asks, a bit baffled when he sees you. “Did we- Did I forget that we had plans tonight?”

“No,” you say, a little nervous for some reason. It's just Chan, you tell yourself, but it doesn't make you feel any better. “I didn't think that you had dinner yet and wanted to see you.”

“Oh, I see. Come in,” Chan responds slowly, still processing your sudden appearance. “I just have something that I need to finish up-”

“It's fine! You can work,” you assure him quickly. “I don't want to interrupt you too much, I just wanted to drop by since I don't have plans and wanted to make sure that you're eating well.”

Chan’s studio isn’t messy at all, but he still gets up to clear some space on a side table for you, before returning back to where he has Cubase opened up. You pass over his food and feel relieved when he immediately digs in, but your appetite seems to have vanished, you can only get yourself to pick at your meal.

Chan is short with his responses all evening and continues to work on his laptop, even while eating. It throws you off a bit, you thought that he would be able to get to a stopping point and at least make a bit of time for you, but you did tell him that he could. Even so, you're determined to make the most of the last time that you’re going to see them for a while. You know they’ve been super busy the past few days, or more like the past few weeks, but still you had thought he would be a little bit more engaged or at the very least seem happy to see you.

Finally, after half an hour of eating with minimal conversation, you decide to broach the subject that’s been on your mind this entire time. Chan’s finished his food and you know that you won’t be able to get yourself to eat anymore, so you shuffle everything off to the side and inch closer to Chan. 

“You know that client we’ve been trying to work with for a while?” you start tentatively.

Chan hums noncommittally, continuing to type on his computer. Not quite the reaction that you're hoping for, but you forge on anyway.

“We got awarded the job! It’s a great opportunity for the company and everyone is really excited, but-”

“Y/n,” he interrupts. “I’m sorry, that’s amazing and all, but you know that it’s not a good time for me right now. I have something I really need to work on and now that you’ve finished eating, can we please not bother with the small talk?”

“Oh,” you say, a bit caught off guard. Chan has never been the type to cut you off when you're speaking. “No, yeah, I get it. Uhm. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, just-” he sighs, sounding frustrated. “Next time can you please ask me when you want to visit in advance so this doesn’t happen again? You chose the worst timing to come by. I just need some space, from all of… this,” he says, waving a hand between the two of you.

“Sorry, I know it’s a busy time, but I just wanted to see-”

At that moment, an alarm on Chan's phone goes off, interrupting you. When he turns it off and notices the time, he swears lowly, unlocking his phone and typing out a message to somebody. You’re scared to break the silence. Less than a minute later, someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Chan calls. When Changbin and Jisung step into the room, they eye you curiously. You keep your head down and try to prevent your hands from shaking as you stand and start to haphazardly shove away all your belongings and the garbage from your dinner into bags. 

“Noona, it's good to see you!” Jisung says brightly, although his smile dims when you make eye contact and can only manage to weakly return the smile. “Sorry for interrupting you two.”

“Hi Hannie,” you reply quietly, not wanting to make conversation, but not wanting to be rude.

“It’s okay, Y/n was just leaving,” Chan says, his obvious annoyance making things even more awkward.

You say bye to the boys quietly and apologise as you shuffle past them to the door.

The handles of the bag from your dinner are digging into your hand painfully and your purse can’t close with the way that you’ve thrown everything into it. You only take a few steps before you have to stop for a moment to save a container from falling and decide to put down everything and reorganise it all.

When you crouch down, you take a second to mentally berate yourself. Everything you had worried about had come true. Instead of being a pleasant surprise, you had come across as a nuisance.

In your rush, you hadn't fully closed the studio door behind you and you're close enough that you can just barely pick up the conversation that happens inside.

“Sorry,” you hear Chan say faintly. “I don't know what's been going on, but Y/n has been… really clingy these days. She just showed up today without asking and I hate-”

You leave before he has the chance to say anything else. You look like a mess for sure, you had just grabbed all the empty containers without bothering to put them back into the plastic bag, your jacket is partially dragging on the ground, and your purse is hanging off your elbow, having slipped off your shoulder. You're pretty sure you hear an empty drink bottle clatter to the floor behind you, but you don't look back to check.

You don't have it in you to care, you just need to leave.

Even waiting for the elevator feels humiliating, so you bypass it and stumble down the stairs. You dump the garbage into a bin on the first floor, not bothering to sort it properly, and step out onto the street, bee-lining to the nearest subway station.

The ride home passes by in a blur.

It hurts, of course it hurts. 

Honestly the reason that your relationship had worked out so far was because you weren’t the kind of person that needed a lot of attention. You understood that both of you were busy and were content to just exchange messages every couple of days because you knew how important Stray Kids was to Chan. Of course you did, they were just as important to you.

If Chan wanted space, well. You were more than capable of giving it to him.

In fact, your upcoming schedule had been the reason that you had wanted to meet up in the first place, the source of your so-called clinginess. You’d never been called that before. You were hyper-independent and tended to get lost in your own mind, easily distracted by different thoughts. It had gotten to a point that most of your exes had complained at least once about you being distant or inattentive.

With Chan, you had been determined not to be the same. It had been difficult at first, to make the effort to send messages throughout the day. You had to convince yourself not to spend too long drafting replies in your head and try not to worry that you were bothering him, especially if you knew that he had schedules at the same time that you were texting.

By the time that you make it to your apartment, your pain has faded into a mixture of resignation and numbness. You don't want to talk to Chan about how you feel, it's your clinginess that he didn't like in the first place, and you don't think you'll have time or the energy for a long, emotional conversation in the next few weeks anyway. If you keep your distance for a while, it just benefits both of you, you tell yourself. You won’t be a distraction to Chan as Stray Kids has their comeback and he won’t be one to you as you take on this new project. 

As much as you want to spend the rest of your night overthinking- something you’ve done more than you’d like to admit- you know that you have a busy day at work tomorrow. Feeling a bit like a zombie, you force yourself to shuffle through your usual nighttime routine, swallowing a melatonin pill before climbing into bed.

Normally, you would send Chan a good night message. Actually, normally you would have sent him a message the second that you arrived home. It was something that he was insistent on starting from early on in your relationship, wanting to make sure that you were safe.

Tonight, you just turn off your phone, plug it into its charger, and sleep.

—

In the morning, you allow yourself to wallow in bed for 5 minutes, before you get ready for work. You’ve never been good at eating breakfast and today’s no exception. Your stomach turns uneasily at the thought of food so you only force yourself to drink some water before you leave.

Your team at work has agreed to get to work earlier than usual just to get a headstart on everything. Though you’re more of a night owl, you’re grateful to find that deviating from your usual routine means that the subway is empty enough that you can find an empty seat, a luxury that you’ve rarely experienced.

It feels eerie to walk through the streets of Seoul when the sun has just started to rise and you’re relieved when you finally make it to your office.

Unsurprisingly, you’re one of the first to arrive. You’re grateful for the time that you have to unpack your things and make a much needed coffee before the rest of your team shows up.

“How did it go last night?” Jinjoo asks you excitedly when she comes in.

“Uhm, it was okay,” you reply noncommittally. “He was definitely surprised.”

“Oh,” Jinjoo pouts at your lack of enthusiasm.

“I mean, it wasn’t bad,” you backtrack, hating to see her disappointed. “It was just so short, he was kind of… busy. But that’s what I expected anyway so that's fine I guess. Thanks for suggesting it to me though! I really appreciate it.”

“That’s good,” Jinjoo brightens. “At least you got to see him one last time.”

“Oh yeah for sure! I think that after seeing him yesterday, it’ll be easier to deal with how busy we’re going to be for the next few weeks,” you say truthfully. 

It’s not a lie, you justify. For the first time since you started dating, you’re not looking forward to the next time that you’re going to see Chan.

You know that your communication is about to reduce to an all time low for the next few weeks, and while you had originally been worried about how Chan would react, now you’re thinking that he’s just going to be relieved not to hear from you. You’ve never thought yourself to have been overly chatty with Chan during the day though, preferring in-person conversation over texting and knowing that he’s generally not available to read your messages anyway, much less send you a reply. It seemed that you were wrong. 

Luckily your team now has to use a shared box that you’re required to put your personal phones into during working hours and only have a little bit of time during lunch and dinner breaks, if you take them, to fish them out. It’s a policy that your company enforces when teams are working on confidential projects and you can’t blame them due to past litigation that they’ve been involved in after a former employee leaked sensitive information.

For once, you're glad for this excuse to not look at your phone, even if you feel a little bit naked to look at the side of your desk or reach into your pocket and not have your phone there. You’re relieved to bury yourself in your work and forget all about your personal life. Even though your project is just starting, you feel like you're already behind. 

When you're finished work for the day and take back your phone, you find yourself reluctant to check your notifications. It's only when you're waiting for the subway to arrive at your station that you finally force yourself to take a look.

No new messages or calls from Chan.

You’re not sure what you expected, but somehow you’re still disappointed.

You get back to your apartment late, you had wanted to finish a couple of things before you left the office and it had led to you being one of the last to leave. You had also stopped by the convenience store closest to your place, not having the energy to cook anything for yourself.

You pick at your dinner half-heartedly. You're used to eating alone, Chan often had his meals at odd times due to his schedules, but tonight the silence feels more oppressive. 

It haunts you, the tail end of the overheard conversation. You have no idea how Chan was going to complete the sentence, but your mind unhelpfully fills in the blanks with worse and worse suggestions.

He hates the timing of your visit.

He hates that you visited at all.

He hates that he has such a clingy girlfriend.

He hates that you are his clingy, annoying, bothersome girlfriend.

He hates you.

In moments of clarity, you can recognize that it's not true. That's not the Chan that you know and he would never say something like that about anybody, least of all you. It's just hard when a small part of you has never really been able to believe that someone as talented and amazing as Chan would want to date someone as unremarkable as you.

You find yourself falling into a new routine, waking early, working overtime, and trying not to cry yourself to sleep. You succeed most of the time, you keep yourself occupied by thinking about work and you're so physically exhausted by your long hours that you fall asleep the second that you get into bed. Luckily, your coworkers are just as overworked as you are and it’s easy to blame your declining condition on the project. Weekends don't help you rest at all, you've committed to your manager that you can work on Saturdays and Sundays are spent completing the chores that you've neglected during the week.

You still talk to Chan sometimes, either right when you wake up or on the way home after work. The conversation is stilted though, both because of the long delays between messages when you text and the limited time that you have when you call. It's enough of a difference that Chan asks you multiple times if everything is okay. Even though you try your best to assure him that you're fine, just busy, you're sure he knows that something is off, although he doesn't question you further.

Most exciting is the day that the new Stray Kids album releases. You've already heard most of the songs for this comeback, perks of dating the member that's the most involved in the writing and production of the album, but it's different now that they're available to the public too. You make sure to organise your schedule so that you're on break when the music video drops and you send a number of messages in the group chat that you have with the group cheering them on. Usually, you try to take a day off to deliver some food to them at the music shows, but you've had to settle for arranging with one of their managers to treat them to a meal.

You can tell when they get breaks because when you check your phone after work, notifications from the members are all in the same blocks of time. It's mostly them thanking you, taking pictures of the food you sent, flowers that they've been gifted, and letters from fans. They have a short promotion period this comeback, but it's packed with different interviews, performances, and fanmeets. At one point, Felix even sends you a picture of Chan sleeping slumped over on one of the waiting room couches. As much as you're relieved to see that he's able to get some rest, the picture has your stomach twisting uncomfortably.

You're proud of Chan, of all of the boys. They've worked so hard and each comeback seems to be more and more successful. Even if you're not confident in what's going to happen with you and Chan in the future, you want to celebrate with them while you still can.

—

After almost four weeks, your project is nearing completion and you've never been more grateful to have a deadline arrive.

You only have a couple more days left until your last submittal is due and after getting off work, you want nothing more than to collapse into bed even though your stomach has been growling the whole walk from the bus to your building. You had caught a significant mistake in a document right before it was going to be sent to a client and the whole afternoon had been spent trying to fix it in time. Your team had just barely managed it, but your head has been pounding for hours and your whole body is tight with stress.

You’re not quite sure how you make it to your apartment, your exhaustion has made you clumsy. You struggle a couple times to enter in the code to unlock your door and trip over a pair of shoes that are scattered in the entryway.

You manage to catch yourself before you fall, then squint back. Yes, you haven’t had the chance to tidy your apartment in a couple weeks, but you’ve never been the type to leave your shoes on the walking path.

A light is on, further in your apartment. You know for a fact it wasn’t like that when you left this morning, it would have been obvious since you've been leaving before the sun rises. Someone else is here.

You stare at the light for a few seconds in disbelief, then slowly reach to grab something, anything that you might be able to use to defend yourself. Your shaking hands close around a full sized umbrella that you keep beside your closet. 

You’ve already made enough commotion that there’s no way the intruder didn’t hear, but you try to keep your footsteps light as you creep down the hall to where your kitchen is. It’s stupid to try and confront them, but the idea of someone in your space, potentially taking your things, is enough to inspire a sudden bout of bravery.

You hold your breath as you turn the corner, launching forward to attack the second that you see someone. You recognise the figure halfway through your swing, and though it’s too late to fully stop, you manage to pull back enough that they’re able to easily catch the umbrella before it hits them.

Chan wraps his arms around you then eases the umbrella out of your hands, resting it against the wall. You sag into his embrace, adrenaline draining away, leaving you exhausted again. 

“Chan?”

You've missed this. His warmth, his comforting scent, the reassuring steadiness that he always provides. You can almost pretend that everything is fine.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he says, sounding more amused than apologetic.

“You should be,” you grumble into his shirt. “I could have seriously injured you if I didn't realise it was you!”

“I don't think that was going to be a problem.” Even though you can't see Chan, you can hear the grin in his voice.

“Hey!” You lightly smack his arm. “You take that back!”

“Fine, fine,” Chan acquiesces, holding up both his hands in surrender. “I'm very glad that I didn't have to experience the full power of your self defence.”

“Yeah yeah,” you huff. “What are you doing here anyway? Other than trying to give me a heart attack, that is.”

“I made you dinner,” Chan says shyly, turning pink.

“For what?” you ask suspiciously. It's easy to fall back into the banter that you typically exchange with Chan, but you can't help but be a bit wary these days.

“No reason. I uh, just haven't seen you in a while,” Chan says sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck where it’s now flushed red. “We had so much preparation to do and then all our schedules… Anyway, I wanted to surprise you, so I thought I could cook for us.”

Now that he's mentioned it, you can see that he's set your tiny kitchen table and that there's a couple of pots on the stove. Chan doesn’t cook often, but he’s expressed a desire to learn before and you’ve taught him how to make a few of your favourite recipes.

You stare at him for a moment, lost for words.

It's only been a few weeks, but you feel like you've forgotten how to act around Chan. Instead of a comfortable silence, it's almost awkward, neither of you knowing what to say.

“Oh,” you say finally, touched and still a little shocked that he's actually here. “That's- that's so nice, I just- is it okay if I wash up a bit quickly first?”

“No, yeah, of course. I'm sure you had a long day,” Chan says. “Go ahead, I’ll- the food should be reheated anyway so I’ll get on that. Take your time.”

You skirt around him to go to the bathroom, taking a moment to splash yourself with water. This feels like a bizarre dream and you wonder for a moment if you’re making this all up. But when you leave to go to your bedroom, Chan’s still there, puttering around in front of your kitchenette. You change your clothes slowly, mind racing as you try to puzzle together why Chan has decided to visit all of a sudden.

You eventually settle on the most logical reason that you can think of.

He’s finally decided to break up with you.

You’ve figured that this was coming for weeks by now, but somehow it still hurts. Instead of feeling resigned, it feels like you’re shattering into little pieces. You twist your work blouse into a tiny ball as you try not to cry, even though you know the fabric is going to wrinkle terribly. You finish cleaning up in a daze, already drafting what you're going to have to message your manager later. There's no way that you're going to be in any shape to work tomorrow if you’re right.

“Y/n?” Chan calls eventually. You know you're procrastinating leaving your room, but you want to put this off for as long as possible even though you know it’s just delaying the inevitable. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply with a heavy heart. “I’m fine. I'll just be another second.”

You can tell that Chan doesn’t quite believe you. He hovers around you when you emerge from your bedroom, knocking away your hand when you try to pull out your own chair from the table.

He's set the table, going so far as to fold little napkins under your utensils. There's even a tiny vase with your favourite flowers as a centrepiece. All this effort just hurts more.

“You look exhausted. You got home so late. Where were you?” he asks.

“I was at work,” you reply stiffly. You know that if you try and say any more, your emotions are going to spill over and you're either going to scream or cry. Maybe both.

“So late?” Chan's forehead creases with some sort of emotion. You can't quite tell if it's concern or scepticism.

“You're not the only one that has a demanding job.”

“Y/n, you know that's not what I meant-”

“Sure,” you say. “Whatever, let's just eat. Thank you for the food.”

You don't want to deal with this. You're so tired.

You have no idea why Chan’s dragging this out longer than it needs to be. Why he’s forcing you to sit through a meal with him like he’s not about to break your heart. Chan is one of the kindest people you know, he’s probably trying to make this easier for you, giving you one last nice memory, but it just feels cruel.

Chan reaches out, stopping you before you can pick up your chopsticks. He stares at the way his fingers overlap each other around your wrist.

“You’ve lost weight,” he says quietly. You look away, watching steam curl from the bowl of rice that has been set in front of you instead of returning eye contact.

“I’ve been busy.” Is all you can say in response. 

You don’t want to tell him that you’ve been basically subsisting on iced americanos and various convenience store meals in part because of your work schedule, but mostly because of your lack of appetite. Every time you thought of Chan, it made your stomach turn and well, everything reminded you of him. You hadn’t realised how much it had actually affected your physical condition until now though.

“You're not taking care of yourself,” he scolds you. You can feel yourself bristle at his comment even though you know it’s true. “I haven't been around to take care of you either. I'm sorry.”

“Chan,” you protest. It has been weeks since you last saw him in person and you’ve spent more time that you’d like to admit micro analysing your relationship, but you still can’t make sense of his behaviour, especially how he keeps switching between criticism and tenderness.

“What?” he asks in genuine confusion.

“Why are you here?”

“I missed you,” Chan says, sounding hurt and confused. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“I just- I don’t understand what you want from me!” You run your hands through your hair in frustration. “One day you don’t want me around, we go weeks without seeing each other, then you’re at my place cooking me dinner? You said you needed space, I gave you space."

“Woah woah woah, what do you mean I don’t want you around?” Chan asks, alarmed. “When have I ever said that?”

“You made it pretty clear that you didn’t appreciate it when I went to bring you dinner that day,” you start.

“No, baby!” Chan stands up abruptly before you can say anything else. He falters when the loud scrape of his chair causes you to flinch back. He slowly walks towards you and kneels in front of you, reaching out to hold your hands in his. His eyes are wide with earnestness. “Of course I wanted to spend time with you. I always want to be with you.”

“So why did you call me clingy?” you ask in a small voice. Gone is your anger, replaced with a self-consciousness that you can’t hide. You look away as tears prickle your eyes.

Gently, Chan lets go of your hands and cups your cheeks instead, turning your face so that he can see you better. His thumbs swipe under your eyes, brushing away the tears that have managed to escape.

“Baby,” he says, sounding even more upset and angry than you feel. “I'm sorry. Did someone tell you I said that?”

“Nobody had to tell me, I heard you say it myself!” you burst out, pushing Chan away. You know that you’re being dramatic, that you keep oscillating between different emotions, but you don’t care. “That day, in your studio, you told Han and Changbin that I was really clingy.”

“You heard me talking to Binnie and Hannie?” Chan asks slowly.

“I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you sniffle. One of Chan's hands shifts and he carefully tucks behind a lock of hair that has fallen in front of your face. The gentleness makes even more tears well up.

“It's okay, I think I know what you overheard now. It must have hurt, right?”

You can't muster up a response, choosing instead to just nod slightly.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry,” he soothes you. “Can I explain myself?”

You pause for a moment, then slowly nod again.

“I don't mind that you're clingy, actually, I like it. I shouldn't have used that word. I like that you want to spend time with me, Y/n,” Chan says carefully. “I like that you take time to visit me, even though I know that your work is busy too. I think that it's cute and thoughtful that you think of me and try to take care of me by bringing me food. I know that you intentionally take the time out of your day to text me because you know that I like hearing from you, even though I might not see it or respond right away.”

Chan pauses for a second and you use it as an opportunity to pull away slightly. His hands tighten briefly, before he lets them fall away, giving you the space to process.

It's not that you don't like what Chan is saying, it's just hard to reconcile it with the thoughts that have been eating away at you for the past few weeks. You still don't understand what you overheard though, how it fits into all of this. When you voice your concerns to Chan, he sighs, before continuing to speak.

“I don't know what I did to have someone as caring and thoughtful as you in my life.” You want to protest, but Chan carries on before you can say anything. “It's just that- you visited me without notice and were the sweetest person in the world. I wanted to spend time with you, believe me, I did, but I can't just ignore my deadlines when the rest of the members are relying on me. It makes me feel like garbage when I can’t give you all my attention. That's the thing I hate the most. That I can't be the boyfriend that you deserve. That I can't show you how much you mean to me the way that I want to.”

It makes sense, in some sort of twisted way. You know that similarly to you, Chan often feels insecure. It had taken a while before you had been able to convince him that you really did want to be in a relationship with him even with all of the difficulties that were associated with being an idol. You hadn't realised that your visit had fed into his worries that he wasn’t enough.

“I didn't know,” you say quietly. “I'm sorry.”

“Hey, I didn't tell you how I was feeling and that's on me. I’m the one that’s sorry, you have no reason to be. I should have been clearer about what was going through my mind and it wasn't any excuse for the way that spoke to you. Even if I wasn't at my best, I can't believe that I made you feel like I didn't want you to be around.” Chan shakes his head and you can tell that he's beating himself up about it. This time, you're the one that reaches out to him, grabbing one of his hands in both of yours.

“I am sorry that I put you into that position, though. I got caught up in the idea of how fun and romantic it might be, that I didn't give enough consideration to your schedule. Even though I wanted to surprise you, it would have been better to check with you beforehand. I don't ever want you to have to feel like you have to choose between me and work.”

“It was a really nice surprise,” Chan agrees. “I wish that I hadn't been so wrapped up that I wasn't able to enjoy spending time with you. I really hated not being able to see you these past few weeks.”

“It was really hard for me too,” you admit.

“I missed you so much. I missed your beautiful voice, hearing your laugh, seeing your smile. I missed all the texts that you usually send, they make me feel like I'm not as far away, that I'm a part of your day too. You kept saying that everything was fine and- I know it's hard for you, especially during comeback periods when I'm not as responsive. I didn't want to pressure you into messaging me more often if I'm not able to do the same.”

“No, it's not that. It doesn't bother me. Work was, is still really busy for me,” you explain. “I was trying to tell you that day, but-”

“But I basically shut you down,” Chan realises. He laughs bitterly. “I’m just the worst, aren't I? No wonder you were so confused by why I was here.”

“I thought you were going to break up with me tonight,” you whisper. Chan looks devastated by your statement.

 “No- you know I wouldn't-” Chan stumbles on his words in his haste to correct you.

“I don't think that anymore,” you reassure him. “I understand everything now, it was just that we didn't communicate well and I assumed… It's okay, we're together now, this won't happen again.”

“I promise that I will make it up to you. I love you and I will prove it to you in every way possible. And I'm going to start right now. You still haven't eaten yet, please go ahead.” Chan moves back to his abandoned chair and doles out a portion of the stew from the pot that's on the table. 

“I am really hungry,” you confess. Your stomach chooses that exact moment to growl loudly and the two of you can’t help but burst into laughter. 

Just like that, it feels like things are back to normal.

You know that there's still more that you and Chan have to talk about. The two of you have only scratched the surface on your insecurities, communication, and how those things led to such a significant misunderstanding.

But tonight, it's enough that you get to share a meal with the man that you love.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[tonycries]

Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You - T.F.

Synopsis. When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company! 

Pairing. Bartender! Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, strangers to lovers, unprotected, pússydrunk Toji, cúmplay, oral (female + male receiving), créampie, some heinous things with pantíes, dirty talk, spitting, whískey, neither are drunk, absolutely filthy, pet names (doll), swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. Was originally gonna be Nanami but Toji mmmm

“So, that date of yours is late, huh?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the question, or the voice from behind the counter - so very deep, tinged with just a bit of amusement.

Tearing your eyes away from the clock at the other end of the bar, it takes a second - and one look around the almost-empty room - for you to realize that shit the hot bartender was talking to you. Sputtering out a quick, “Oh, yes, um-” quickly reading that faded nametag, “-Toji. He’s a bit late.”

The man in front of you raises a brow, dark green eyes locked on the way you shift in your seat. He seemed a bit older, and - you gulp, eyeing the way his arms flex as he fumbles with the shaker - so undeniably attractive. Plowing on obliviously, “Boyfriend?”  

You sigh, pinching your nose, “No, some guy from a dating app. It’s supposed to be our first date.” 

“First date?” Toji lets out a low whistle. “Way to make an impression, dunno what type of asshat would keep a pretty lil’ thing like you waiting.”

Cheeks flaring, you don’t know what it is about him that makes you want to defend yourself, but it doesn’t matter anyway - because whatever rambled excuse gets stuck in your throat at the sharp scrape of glass against the counter. Large hands gently placing a pretty pink daiquiri in front of you, Toji gives you a reassuring nod. “S’on the house till that dumbass shows up. Until then, you can keep me company, doll.”

Playing with the straw between your fingers, your eyes flit to the clock again - 8:10pm.

Well, there was still time. Right? 

Nonsense, maybe.

Because it’s around 10:21pm when you conclude that no, there really wasn’t still time, and your date seemed well and fully intent on completely embarrassing you. And now, him still nowhere in sight, lips a bit looser, you were having the time of your life complaining all about it to Toji.

“-no, I swear.” you groan over his low chuckle. “He really gave me the ‘sorry, my dog ate my keys’ gem. And you know the best part?” Beckoning him over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear - heart stuttering at the heat of his proximity, “The man doesn’t even own a dog.”

Shaking his head, Toji seemed like he was drinking in your every word. “Classic. If yer gonna be late, at least make it interesting. Like, ‘I accidentally joined the circus on the way here.’”

“Mhm, I’ll have to keep that in mind for my next no-show date.” you grin, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than you were a few hours ago. Nowhere near tipsy, but definitely high off the conversation and the addictive scent of his cologne - the expensive kind that left you wondering whether all of him smelled this delicious. 

“Or better yet, you could spend your time with someone who actually knows how to keep you entertained rather than some scrub.”

Snapping out of your little reverie, lifting your head just fast enough to catch the little smirk tugging Toji’s lips. Managing to grit out, “Smooth, huh?”

“Just sayin’.” he hums, before turning his back to organize the glasses on the shelf. And you can’t help but traitorously admire his broad shoulders, cursing that t-shirt for being so goddamn tight that you could see the way his muscles ripple with each movement. 

“Besides-” Catching the tail-end of Toji’s question, “-neat whiskey for all the failed dates?”

You chuckle, “Ah, I really shouldn’t, the other customers will probably-” your sentence dies in your throat as a quick glance at the empty room showed that everyone else had eventually left - leaving just you. And Toji. Damn. Slow day, huh?

“Well, doll?”

Heaving out a shaky breath, you nod. Eyes zoning in on the way he expertly handles the glasses, so dizzyingly inviting. It makes a sheepish smile play at your lips, letting out a quiet little, “Despite all the shitty dates, I’ve actually never had whiskey neat before.”

Oh? That made him pause. Eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he sets down the glasses and leans in a little closer, breath hot against your face. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Well.” Toji muses. “This overpriced shit can’t be your first intro to neat whiskey. If you’re up for it, I’ve got a special 1926 Macallan stashed away in the back n’ can get it for us?”

Oh. Maybe it was that slow, silent grin that curls his lips, that sinful little scar moving as he does. Or maybe it was the way he places a hand on the counter to stare down so heavily at you. Probably it was just him - because you find yourself batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Or I could just go with you?”

And shit if there was ever a time where Toji was sure he met his match then it might just be right now. Because that sultry lil’ smirk on your lips was killing him, making such a carnal little part of him twitch so dangerously. With a heavy nod, you’re following him through the dimly lit bar.

The back room is more of a VIP room than anything - cozy, lined with shelves of alcohol and leather furniture. Heady with the liquor and something so so Toji. 

You’re halfway through reading the title of a wine you could barely pronounce before he’s letting out a grunt of satisfaction from behind you, “Excuse me, doll.” It’s all that’s said before Toji’s pressing up against you. His muscular arm just inches from your head, reaching for something from the very top shelf. And oh you could feel his abs rubbing up against your back, so warm and- 

And then he’s pulling away. 

It was quite hard to stomp down the disappointed whine that almost leaves your throat, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said something about the amused little glint in his eyes. Smug bastard knew what he was doing. 

Instead focusing on the way he turns to show off a bottle with a deceivingly innocent reverence. “This is going to be a real treat.”

Well. Two can play that game.

“Is that so?” you tilt your head, reaching out to grab the bottle neck, with not as much care of concern as you should have considering this was a million dollar whiskey. Swiftly unclasping the lid, focused only on the way Toji’s breath hitches as you fist his t-shirt in your other hand to pull him close to you - so close.

Close enough that you could count every shade of green in those half-lidded eyes, long lashes fluttering as your breath fans his face. “Such a shame we didn’t bring our glasses, huh?”

Oh the devilish grin that splits across his face sends such delicious shivers down your spine - Toji gets your drift. Of course, he does. Because he’s squishing your cheeks together in an almost-embarrassing pout, fingers searing on your skin, lips ghosting yours, “Yeah, real shame.” 

Immediately bringing the bottle to his mouth, letting the burning liquid pool on his tongue, he spits into your mouth, once. Twice. 

A steady stream of whiskey, and spit. It tasted just like the acrid alcohol and sin. And Toji. 

And it was so messy, smearing across your lips and trickling down your chin. Tilting your head back, you let it flow down your throat obscenely. Locked in his greedy gaze as you loll your tongue out to show off the way you’d swallowed everything he gave. 

“Maybe I do like neat whiskey.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him because fuck Toji was intoxicating and just there. That little scar rubbing against your lips as he devours you so sloppily, all hard muscles and heated skin underneath your fingertips. 

“Fuck.” he hisses into your open mouth. Setting down the whiskey God-knows-where near the couch to pick you up like a ragdoll. Drinking in the cute lil’ gasp that leaves you as you wrap your legs around his slutty waist. Groping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach. “How ya likin’ the Macallan, doll?”

“A ‘real treat’.” you mimic his earlier words, voice slightly broken as you feel his rock-hard cock through your wet panties, throbbing angrily against your cunt. Fuck, would you even be able to take him all?

“Oh yeah?”

And before you can react you’re being pushed against the hard wall. Toji’s lips dizzying on yours, fiddling with that godforsaken clasp on the back of your tight dress. 

“Shit.” he groans impatiently, wedging a knee between your legs, grinding against your wet pussy. “Such a delicious meal all f’me but I’ve gotta get through this- fuckin-” rip! “-dress”

Well, you expected your dress to end up on the floor somewhere, just not like this - tattered and hitting the ground of this back room behind the bar, faster than your jaw. And so do Toji’s - pupils blown, eyes hooded as he takes in the heavenly view in front of him. 

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, licking like he couldn’t stay away. “Shit, doll. You were gonna wear this pretty lil’ number for that loser?” he sounds genuinely confused. Immediately tweaking and rolling your swollen nipples through the sheer fabric. “M’so fucking glad that bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“T-Toji- ngh-” you mewl, as he lets your bra fall to the ground. Taking in one tit in his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around your areola. “Wan- wan’ more-”

“Now now,” he tuts mockingly, delicate strings of spit connecting him to your breasts. “S’rude to be the only one drinking. Unless…” Toji looks up at you through his thick lashes, “You wan’ me to drink in that pretty lil’ cunt of yours?”

And shit that sounded like everything you ever wanted right now. All you can let out is a delirious little nod before Toji’s dropping to his knees. So hard you wonder if it hurts - and maybe it’s the liquor, probably it’s the way he’s drunk off you - but he doesn’t give a fuck. 

“Yeah, atta girl.”

Pulling down your panties in one, fluid motion, he tugs them underneath your legs, disappearing between his own, fumbling with his waistband. And if you angled your head just right you could see the slightest glimpse of Toji fisting his cock. Soaking your already-wet panties with his precum.

“Aw, look at the way she’s so wet f’me already.” he coos at your dripping cunt. Absolutely obsessed with the way you’re so drenched for him already. Slick beading through the flimsy fabric at each hot breath, oh Toji has half the mind to just take you right here, right now. But no, he wanted- needed a taste. Doesn’t think he could live without it. “Wonder if she tastes just as sweet as she looks.”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by Toji burying himself face-first in your pussy. Licking a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds, pooling your slick on his tongue. 

But it wasn’t enough - it might never be. Because one taste of your pretty cunt and Toji is hooked. 

With a low groan, he’s spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering pussy. Spreading it with his thumb before he’s diving back in nose-deep. Snaking a hand down to draw frenzied little circles on your swollen clit, letting your juices glisten all down his wrist.

“Taste s’fuckin’ good. Fucking sweet.” So hot and maybe you should’ve gotten an inkling with how sloppy he was with the whiskey - but Toji was so fucking filthy. Your slick glossing his face so prettily, smearing right up to his nose and dribbling down his chin. Lewd little squelches deafening in your ears. 

“Ngh- Sh-shut up-”

“Shut up? Can’t shut up, doll, m’drunk on this sweet cunt more than I am on whiskey.” he mutters into your folds. “My favorite taste. Got me addicted, huh?”

He huffs out a dark laugh into your pussy, taking in that cute lil’ embarrassed expression on your face. Throwing one of your legs over his sculpted shoulder, Toji bullies his soft tongue into your snug cunt, past that delicious little ring of resistance. 

Making out with your pussy deeper. And his tongue was so long - perfectly hitting your sweet spots, licking all over your plushy walls. Thrusting in time with his thumb drawing on your clit, in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck, I could get used to this. Have you for breakfast, lunch, n’ dinner.”

His words were so dirty, but Toji looked so pretty stuffing his face in your cunt. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. Tilting his head just so that your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. 

It’s what has you tugging in his hair to angle him just right, using him like your favorite toy. Such cute lil’ whines of his name leaving you each time his tongue grazes that one spot that has you keening and bucking into his mouth for more more more-

“Fuck fuck fuck jus’ like that- Ah!” you let out such pretty whines, words slurring together. Delirious little ones that go straight to Toji’s achingly hard cock, angry and twitching in his fist. So needy and glistening with precum in the dim lighting.

Shit, Toji thinks he could cum at just that, which is why he’s lapping at your cunt even greedier, drinking you in like a madman. Fingers so deftly toying with your pretty clit, making you putty in his hands. He has to make you cum. Now. Or else he’s gonna fuckin’ embarrass himself in front of such a goddess. 

“Oh? So drunk on m’tongue, already, doll?” he chuckles. “Can’t speak?” Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure up your spine. It has you dragging your cunt so sloppily all over Toji’s face - and he likes it. Loves it even, only speeding up his movements. Even when his jaw is aching, walls sucking him up so desperately that it was almost difficult to eat out your pretty lil’ cunt. Even when your sweet juices are dripping down to the hardwood floor in a sinful little drip! drip! drip! 

“I- ngh- m’gonna-”

“Gonna what? You can handle whiskey, you can handle using your words, doll.”

“Cum!” you yelp, “M’gonna cum Toji- ah- feels t’good.” 

And that’s exactly what he liked to hear because Toji only gets sloppier. Alternating between stretching you out on his tongue, sucking on your clit, licking everywhere. Over and over-

“Then cum f’me, doll.”

And you are - fast and hard. So hard that you don’t even realize when you’re rocking your hips all over Toji’s face. Cunt fluttering around his tongue as if you were trying to suck him up - and he lets you. 

“Fuck. Sweeter than I imagined.” he’s slurring into your cunt. “Jus’ like that- yeah, ride out that pretty lil’ cunt on m’face.” Words muffled as he tonguefucks you through your high, stars behind your lids every time he flicks at your pussy. 

Distantly, you hear such embarrassing little whimpers of his name in time with the sinfully wet groans from below - ones you realize are yours only when you’re blinking back your vision. Heart thundering, pathetically trying to catch your breath.

The first thing you hear is Toji’s little chuckle, followed closely by a lewd pop! that has you whirling to look at him down below.

“Wh-wha-” and all you can let out is a strangled little oh! at the sight before you - Toji licking his fingers clean, sucking all your sweet juices like he couldn’t get enough. Even when he’s flashing you a devilish grin around his fingers, rising from his position on the ground to cage you against the wall.

“Told ya m’addicted, doll.”

Your back hits the soft leather before you even realize what’s happening. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw, you gasp in both shock and at the audacity of this man.

“Toji…” you warn as he looms over you on the couch, yet it comes out more breathless than you intended. But looking at him there - straddling your hips, pants pulled just below his heavy balls, tugging and teasing his rock-hard cock like he was trying to fuck something delicious out of it - how could you be blamed, really?

He was so big. Pulsing wildly in his fist and just soaked in precum - all the way from his pretty pink tip to the tufts of black at his base. Not quite wild, not quite tamed. You cunt clenches in- anticipation? Fear of not being able to walk for the next week?

And in the haze of your orgasm it takes you a second to register the flimsy panties wrapped around his hand. Rubbing against those prominent veins on the side as Toji fucks his fist. So wet and ruined that you almost didn’t recognize it. 

“Jus’ think of it as repayment.” he grins, following your line of sight. 

You scoff, eyes still traitorously stuck on his throbbing cock. So massive and mouth-watering that it makes you wish he used you instead of those panties. “Those were expensive y’know.”

“I’ll buy you new ones. Four. In the color of my eyes.”

“How about…” you flash him a sultry smirk, urging his hips to shift higher. And by the amused quirk of his brow, you knew Toji liked where this was going.  “I can repay you another way.”

And before you knew it, his pants are thrown to God-knows-where, and you had two, muscled thighs straddling your face. Toji slaps his swollen cock on your face once. Twice. “Think that loser was this big?” Thumbing your mouth open as he grazes his weeping tip across your lips, glossing them so prettily. Precum salty on your tongue, all filthy and dripping down to your chin. 

“Open wide- Fuck. Tha’s it-” he hisses, brows furrowing as he stuffs his fat head into your hot mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your lips bulge around him, flicking at the sensitive tip. And it was so delicious, Toji couldn’t decide whether he liked eating you out or this more. 

“Shit, doll.” he grunts, hips fucking into your plushy tongue in shallow, quick little thrusts. “Taking me so well, huh?”

You didn’t know if you were - lips stretching obscenely around his thick cock, tears clinging to your lashes. Choking and gagging around his length in a way that made Toji twitch inside you. Shit, he liked this - liked seeing you like this. And as soon as the realization hits you, you’re moaning around his cock, making Toji’s hips stutter above you. 

Toji has to fight off that part of himself that just wants to paint your mouth a sinful white. Fuck his cum into your till it’s all you can taste - all you can feel. 

“Shit. You little minx. Ah- s’heavenly around me ngh-” pressing your head down till all the way till your nose is flush against his pelvis, balls twitching against your chin. Finally bottoming out and fucking your mouth in harsh, long strokes. “Fuck- Wonder if that pretty lil’ cunt of yours is gonna take me t-this well, huh?”

Oh does he love your smart mouth - but he loves it even more when all he gets in response is wet gurgle around his cock. Looking up at him so tearily and shit he could get used to this sight. “M’gonna take that as a yes.”

And then he’s speeding up, balls squeezing so painfully. God it’s so fucking hard to look at you too - precum and spit bubbling sloppily at the corners of your mouth, makeup so messy and fucking gorgeous to him. 

“Can feel m’self riiight-” Reaching out a hand to wrap around your throat, feeling his dick bulging in and out in and- “here.”

Moving faster so he can ruin your pretty face. It’s so sloppy the way your spit glistens down his length, using your swollen mouth as he pleases. And you’re so eager to make him lose his mind too that it has been fucking into you like a toy.

“Ya like this? Like me using your pretty lil’ mouth like oh- it’s a fucktoy? Oh fuck, doll.” he groans, running his mouth like he’s drunk off yours wrapped around him. “Gonna paint that pretty mouth of yours white if y’don’t stop now.” 

And shit if he knew those words would have you eagerly bobbing your head to meet his hips a little slut then he’d have said them a lot sooner. Trying to get just a taste of him. Mascara runny now, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip every time he hits the back of your throat, so hard that it’s probably sore and bruised. Toji almost feels bad. 

…

Nahhh

Pulling your mouth off him, muttering low and dangerous. “Told ya to stop now, didn’t I?”

And oh he hates to cut off that cute lil’ whine spilling from your kiss-bitten lips, but shit Toji’s losing his patience and his sanity with each passing second that he isn’t stuffing his cock in your pretty cunt. 

Toji backs up, swiping a thumb under your lip, sucking off the remnants of his precum before capturing your lips in a searing, searing kiss. Tasting you and himself and you- 

“Liked the Macallan, huh?” Reaching blindly for the bottle of whiskey, taking a deep swing. Spitting it back into your mouth because shit you looked so pretty swallowing it all up. Rutting his hips into yours, sliding his throbbing erection in between your swollen folds. Collecting your sweet juices on his head, drinking in your adorable gasps.

“T-Toji.” you whimper, hips bucking up wildly. “Just fuck me already, goddamnit.”

And then he is - pressing his fat tip into your sloppy hole. Inch by fucking inch. Not even thinking of easing into it because fuck he needs it. He needs it-

“-s’bad. Ah-” Toji drawls against your lips. “Wan’ed this ever since y’walked in through that damn door.” A mess of spit and alcohol and precum - it made you feel so dirty, dirtier than the pressure between your legs as he bullies his heavy cock into your snug pussy. And all you can do is fucking take it because Toji was so unrelenting.

Thrusting in shallow, mindless little thrusts to just fit himself inside you - and you already feel like you’re being stretched to your limits. Whimpering out a tearily little, “Are you at least ngh- halfway in yet? Oh-”

If Toji was any lesser man he’d just have split you apart on his cock right now, but no. Instead settling for a smug little, “Nope”, popping the p.

But that doesn’t stop him from wrapping two arms around your waist, sitting up on the couch with you splayed out so prettily on his cock. Pulling you, squeezing his dick into your soft cunt, sliding down, down, down.

“Ah! Ah- shit shit shit s’too deep, ngh-”

“No such thing as ‘too deep’, doll.” he clenches his jaw. Hands pushing your thighs apart even further as you’re split apart on his cock. “You jus’ hafta sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” Each word is punctuated by a harsh thrust. 

And Toji’s manhandling you around while bouncing you on his dick. Drawing unhurried little circles on your clit while trying to find that one spot he knows you’d love more than any whiskey or drink. Looping a strong arm to arch you into his body and-

“Fuck!” you keen, hips grinding sloppily to milk his cock as much as you could. Walls clenching so sinfully and shit-

“Found it.”

And then it was like something snapped - because all of a sudden Toji’s no more playful teasing and letting you have your little fun. No, he’s fucking you like a man possessed - thrusting his cock up into you. All the way from his weeping tip, till his balls smack your ass. So hard he’s sure they leave such a shameful mark for tomorrow. Hitting that spot over and over-

“Aren’t ya glad you chose to ah- s-stay with me?” he hisses, throwing his head back. One hand rocking your hips deeper the other becoming faster and faster on your poor, ravaged clit. Driving you crazy. “Fuck that date ditcher, y’look all pretty like this for me.”

“Yes yes yes- s’glad.” you manage to sob out. Voice shaky and hitching at the way he was bouncing you on his cock with reckless abandon. The lewd squelches and skin-on-skin filling the heady room, making your head spin so much that you barely hear Toji’s words. 

“I’d make a much better date. Hngh-” he lets out a guttural groan as your nails rake his back. Fingers on your clit becoming more and more frantic. “Would buy ya flowers n’ a-all that shit. Show up on time, all dressed up.” Drinking in your lewd little ah! ah! ah! every time he milks himself on your sloppy pussy. But oh maybe Toji was a talker when he was drunk because he wasn’t done yet. 

“Make all those other scrubs fuck- jealous. And then-” Hips stuttering and so so sloppy. “Hah- at night- m’gonna fuck you dumb just like this.” he gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his sanity. Losing it bit by bit every time his veins rub so deliciously against all the right spots that make you see stars. 

Losing his sanity especially when you whine out such a cute lil’ noise of agreement. “Fuck m’close. Wanted this too, huh? I saw the way you’d been eyeing me all night.”

You can’t even be embarrassed about being caught red-handed, only looking up at his pretty face with delirious heart-eyes. Too cockdrunk and delirious at this point. And, well, maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins because you’re grabbing at the shiny bottle on the seat, bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste barely hitting your lips before you’re meeting his. Making out as sloppily as he was ravaging you below - all teeth and whiskey and pure filth. 

And that answers his question. 

Messy and desperate. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - clamping down so sinfully on his aching cock. And shit it’s so heavenly that it sends him over the edge as well. 

Toji cums, and keeps cumming so hard that he can see the way his seed was gushing out of your poor, overfilled pussy. Especially not when his thrusts get sloppy, thick cum spilling all over your pretty cunt. Purposely not pulling out like the mean bastard he is to paint your walls a sinful white

Over and over, forming a wet little patch on the couch that he knows he’ll have to worry about later. But right now he doesn’t give a fuck because your bloated and so prettily all covered in his seed. 

Leisurely, he pools the cum trickling out of your cunt on his fingertips, not even wasting a second before stuffing them in your mouth, pushing through your swollen lips. And you don’t complain - not at all. In fact, you’re sucking it all up eagerly. Looking Toji straight in the eyes while you swallow it all. 

“Hmm, not as good as the whiskey.” you tease. Letting yourself be yanked into his body, as he grins against your lips.

“For that, m’keeping the panties.” 

--- 

“Toji…” a low voice rings through the closed bar. Shiu sounding like he’s absolutely at his wit’s end as he continues, “Where the fuck is our 1926 Macallan?”

The man in question was staring suspiciously giddily at his phone - either having not heard what Shiu said, or he just couldn’t give a fuck anyway. And knowing Toji, it was probably the latter. 

A warning. “Toji I’m serious, that shit costs over a million dollars.”

“Yeah yeah, congratulations or my condolences but hey, do you know any great flower shops?”

A/N. I don’t even like whiskey so much, it’s just the thought of bartender! Toji that has me feral.

Plagiarism not authorized.