#at first i just wanted half of it to be the gif half of it to be the lyrics but it didn't turn out good

[moonlightwritingf1]

At Her Mercy | LN4

💋 summary ━━━━━━━ For the first time in her relationship with Lando, Y/N takes charge in the bedroom, and Lando becomes submissive.

💋 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

💋 word count ━━━━━━━ 5.9k

💋 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering?, submissive Lando, creampie, hand job, strip tease, teasing

💋 author's note ━━━━━━━ I don't really like how this one turned out, but I hope you enjoy it.

Based on this request.

Y/N’s fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted the straps of her dress in the mirror. It was a simple black piece, not too revealing, but enough to make her feel confident—or as confident as she could muster. Her heart raced as she thought about what she was about to do. Tonight, she told herself, I’m taking control. It wasn’t just about the physical act; it was about proving something to herself, about breaking down the walls she had built so meticulously around her emotions.

She had been at Lando’s apartment in Monaco for the better part of the week. Their relationship was still new, fragile, and yet intense. Every touch, every glance, every word exchanged between them carried a weight she wasn’t sure she was ready to bear. But tonight, she was determined to push past her insecurities, to step into a role she had always shied away from.

Lando was in the living room, sprawled lazily on the couch, his attention half on the TV and half on his phone. He looked effortlessly handsome, as he always did, his boyish charm combined with a quiet confidence that both irritated and intrigued her. She took a deep breath, her pulse quickening as she approached him.

“Hey,” she said, her voice softer than she intended.

He looked up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Hey yourself. You look… stunning.”

She ignored the flutter in her chest, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. Stay focused. “I’ve been thinking,” she began, her tone deliberate. “About us. About… tonight.”

His eyebrows lifted, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Oh? What about tonight?”

She stepped closer, her hands resting on her hips in a gesture she hoped looked confident rather than defensive. “I want to change things up. I want to be in control.”

Lando’s smirk widened, but there was a glimmer of something else in his expression—something deeper. “Is that so?” he drawled, leaning back against the couch cushions. “And what does that entail, exactly?”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, but she refused to back down. She moved to stand in front of him, her knees brushing against his thighs. “It means,” she said slowly, her voice low but firm, “that I’m in charge. And you’re going to do exactly as I say.”

His breath hitched, and for the first time since she’d known him, Lando looked… uncertain. But intrigued. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice rougher than usual. “I’m all yours.”

She didn’t hesitate. Sinking onto his lap, she straddled him, her dress riding up slightly as she settled against him. His hands instinctively moved to her hips, but she caught his wrists, pinning them to his sides. “No,” she said firmly, her eyes locking with his. “I’m in control now.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration crossing his face before it melted into something darker, more primal. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his tone dripping with submission.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected it to be this easy, for him to surrender so completely. But there was a fire in his eyes, a silent challenge that made her pulse race. She shifted slightly, grinding against him, and a low groan escaped his lips.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her voice a sultry purr that surprised even her. “You’re going to let me take what I want, aren’t you?”

His chest heaved, his hands twitching at his sides as if desperate to touch her. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice strained.

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. “And what if I want…” she paused, her breath warm against his skin, “…everything?”

His eyes fluttered shut, a shudder running through him. “Then take it.”

Y/N’s heart pounded as she pulled back slightly, studying his face. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by a vulnerability that made her chest ache. She had always seen him as the one in control, the one who called the shots. But now, with his hands restrained and his body tense with anticipation, he looked… fragile. And it terrified her.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Do you trust me?”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto hers with an intensity that took her breath away. “Always,” he said without hesitation.

Her resolve wavered for a moment, but she pushed past it, her hands moving to the hem of his shirt. Slowly, she tugged it up and over his head, exposing his toned chest. She traced a finger down the center of his torso, feeling the muscles twitch beneath her touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “Y/N…” he started, but she cut him off with a touch to his lips.

“Shh,” she whispered, her voice firm but gentle. “I’m in control, remember?”

He swallowed hard, nodding silently. She could see the conflict in his eyes—the need to take over, to reclaim the dominance he was so used to, warring with his desire to submit to her. And it thrilled her.

Sliding off his lap, she knelt in front of him, her hands resting on his thighs. “You’re going to let me take care of you,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Lando’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he didn’t move. “Whatever you want,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

She held his gaze as she reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, slowly pulling them down along with his boxers. His breathing quickened, his body tensing as she exposed him fully.

“Look at you,” she murmured, her voice a mix of awe and possessiveness. “All for me.”

His chest heaved, his eyes dark with desire. “Only for you,” he choked out.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his inner thigh, and he let out a strangled moan. “Shh,” she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

His body trembled beneath her touch, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. She could feel the tension in him, the way he was holding himself back, and it only fueled her determination.

“Relax,” she murmured, her lips trailing higher. “Let go.”

“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice breaking. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ve got you.”

And with that, she took him into her mouth, her hands gripping his hips to keep him still. His entire body tensed, a guttural moan escaping his lips as his head fell back against the couch.

“Fuck,” he choked out, his voice raw with desperation. “Y/N…”

She didn’t respond, her focus entirely on him, on the way his body responded to her touch, to her control. She could feel him trembling, hear the ragged breaths escaping his lips, and it only spurred her on.

“So good for me,” she murmured against his skin, her fingers tightening on his hips. “Just like that.”

His chest heaved, his hands gripping the couch so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Please,” he begged, his voice strained. “Don’t stop.”

She didn’t stop—not yet. Hovering above him, she took her time, savoring every inch of him, every flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. Her hand wrapped around his length, torturously slow, her thumb brushing over the sensitive tip before she leaned in, her lips parting to take him into her mouth. His hips jerked instinctively, but her free hand pressed firmly against his stomach, pinning him in place. “Don’t move,” she murmured, her voice low and commanding, the vibration of her words sending a shiver through him. “You’re mine tonight. Every part of you.”

Her tongue swirled around him, a deliberate, teasing motion that drew a ragged moan from his lips. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking him deeper, the warmth of her mouth contrasting with the cool air that brushed against his skin whenever she pulled back. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and the intensity in her gaze made him gasp. She wasn’t just doing this—she was owning it, owning him. Her lips traced a path along his shaft, her tongue lapping at the veins that throbbed beneath his skin, her every movement calculated to drive him closer to the edge.

Lando’s hands clawed at the couch, his knuckles whitening as he fought to stay still, to not buck into her. His breath came in short, desperate gasps, his chest heaving as he tried to hold himself together. “Y/N,” he choked out, his voice raw and broken, “please, I... I can’t...”

“Shh,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to let the cool air kiss his wet skin. Her fingers tightened around him, her thumb circling the sensitive head. “You’ll take what I give you. When I give it to you.”

He whimpered, his head falling back against the couch, his entire body trembling with the effort to keep still. His muscles coiled like springs, his hips twitching under her touch, but he didn’t dare break her rules. Not now, when she was in complete control. Her mouth returned to him with a deliberate slowness, her lips sealing around him as she sucked him deeper, her tongue teasing the underside of his shaft. His breath hitched, his body tightening as she pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

But just as he was about to tip over, she pulled away, her lips leaving him with a soft *pop*. His hips jerked, an involuntary whine escaping his lips as the sudden loss of contact left him aching. “Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained and desperate. “Please, I need... I’m so close...”

Her hand stilled, her fingers tightening around him just enough to hold him back. She leaned over him, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “I’m not done with you yet.” Her voice was low, commanding, sending a shiver down his spine. “You’ll come when I say you can. Not a moment sooner.”

He groaned, his head falling back against the couch, his body trembling with need. “You’re killing me,” he rasped, his chest heaving.

Her lips curved into a smirk as she leaned back, her eyes dark with possession. “Good.” Her fingers trailed up his thigh, the light touch a cruel tease. “You’re mine tonight, Lando. Every part of you. And I’ve got plans for you.”

His breath hitched, his eyes locking onto hers, and for a moment, she could see the conflict in his gaze. The need to take control, to reclaim his dominance, warred with the desire to surrender completely to her. But when her nails dug into his thigh, just enough to sting, his resistance crumbled. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Anything you want.”

Her smirk widened, her fingers trailing back to his length, her touch featherlight but deliberate. “Good boy,” she murmured, her voice a sultry purr that sent a jolt through him. “Now, let’s see how much you can take.”

She rose from her knees, her dress cascading down her thighs as she stood before him. Lando’s eyes were wide, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as he watched her. His cock was hard, throbbing, and glistening with pre-cum, straining against his body as if begging for her touch. But she wasn’t going to give in—not yet. She was in control, and she was going to make him feel every second of it.

Her fingers slowly trailed along the hem of her dress, catching the fabric and lifting it inch by inch. She moved with deliberate slowness, her eyes locked onto his, watching the way his jaw tightened, his lips parting as he fought to keep still. The dress rose higher, revealing her thighs, her hips, the curve of her waist, and finally, the swell of her breasts. Lando’s hands twitched at his sides, his fingers curling into fists as he resisted the urge to reach for her.

She paused, the dress just barely covering her breasts, and tilted her head. “You’re not going to touch yourself, are you, Lando?” Her voice was soft, almost innocent, but the sharpness in her eyes betrayed her tone.

He shook his head, his breath hitching. “No. No, I won’t.”

“Good,” she purred, letting the dress fall from her fingers and pool at her feet. She stood before him, completely naked, her skin glowing in the dim light of the room. His eyes raked over her hungrily, his gaze lingering on the curve of her hips, the softness of her breasts, the way her body seemed to stretch out before him like a feast.

She stepped closer, her foot nudging his knees apart as she stood between them. His cock twitched, straining toward her, and she felt a surge of power rush through her. She loved this—loved the way he looked at her, loved the way he was completely at her mercy.

Her hands trailed down her body, her fingers brushing over her breasts, teasing the nipples into hard peaks as she watched his reaction. He groaned low in his throat, his hand twitching toward his cock, but she stopped him with a sharp look.

“I said don’t,” she warned, her voice firm. His hand froze mid-air, and he let it fall back to the couch, his fingers digging into the cushions.

She continued her slow descent, her hands sliding down her stomach, over her hips, and finally between her legs. She touched herself lightly, her fingers brushing over her folds, feeling the wetness that had already begun to gather there. His eyes were glued to her, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he watched her.

“You like watching me, don’t you?” she asked, her voice low and sultry.

He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “Yes. God, yes.”

She smiled, a wicked curve of her lips, and stepped even closer, her knees brushing against his. “Then watch.”

She slid her fingers deeper, exploring herself, feeling the way her body responded to his gaze, to the way he was practically trembling with need. She teased herself, her fingers circling her clit slowly, deliberately, drawing out the sensation until she felt the first sparks of pleasure ripple through her.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “You’re so beautiful.”

She didn’t respond, her focus entirely on herself, on the way her body was responding to her touch, to the way he was watching her. She could feel her wetness coating her fingers, could hear the soft, wet sounds as she moved against herself. She leaned back slightly, arching her back, letting her breasts thrust forward as she continued to touch herself.

“Lando,” she said, her voice breathy, “suck my nipples.”

He didn’t hesitate, his mouth latching onto her breast, his tongue swirling around her nipple as he sucked it into his mouth. She moaned softly, her fingers moving faster against herself as he continued to lavish attention on her breasts. His hands twitched at his sides, but he didn’t move them, his entire focus on her, on the way she was falling apart in his hands, on the way she was completely in control.

She could feel her climax building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her belly, but she forced herself to slow down, to draw it out. She wasn’t ready to let go yet—not when he was so completely at her mercy.

She pulled back slightly, her fingers stilling as she looked down at him. His eyes were dark with desire, his lips swollen from where he’d been sucking on her breast, and she felt a surge of power rush through her.

“You’re so good for me,” she murmured, her voice soft. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

She stepped back, her fingers trailing down her body, over her stomach, between her legs, and finally to her folds. She touched herself again, her fingers sliding into her wetness, feeling the way her body responded to her touch, to the way he was watching her.

She stepped back slightly, her fingers gliding out from her wetness, leaving a glistening trail. Lando’s eyes followed her hand, his mouth already softening, lips parting instinctively. She smirked, holding her damp fingers inches from his mouth. 

“Open,” she commanded, her voice low and firm. He obeyed without hesitation, his tongue flicking out to taste her before she even brought her fingers to his lips. She pressed them into his mouth, and he moaned hungrily, sucking eagerly, his tongue swirling around her fingers as if he could never get enough of her taste. His eyes fluttered closed, lost in the sensation, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

“You’re so desperate,” she whispered, pulling her fingers away with a soft pop. His lips chased after them, a whine escaping his throat as she leaned back, leaving him wanting. 

She climbed onto his lap in one deliberate motion, her legs straddling him, her knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips. Her pussy hovered just above his cock, her wetness already slicking his length as she pressed down lightly, letting him feel the heat of her without letting him inside. 

His breath hitched, his hands twitching toward her hips, but she caught his wrists, placing them firmly on the couch cushions. “Don’t,” she growled, her voice firm, and he immediately stilled, his fingers curling into the fabric beneath them. 

She began to move, rocking her hips back and forth slowly, the length of his dick sliding against her, the wetness from her pussy coating him entirely. Her movements were deliberate, teasing, each stroke making him harder, more desperate. 

His cock twitched beneath her, and she smirked, pressing down a little harder, the friction sending shivers up her spine. “Touch yourself, I dare you,” she taunted, her voice dripping with dominance. 

He shook his head, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I-I won’t. I’ll behave.” "Good boy.” she purred, her hips grinding in a slow circle, her clit brushing against him with every movement. 

His eyes were glued to her, his gaze darting from her pussy to her breasts, her neck, her face, as if he couldn’t decide where to look, where to focus. “Y/N...” he whispered, his voice breaking. 

“Mine,” she said simply, leaning forward, her breasts brushing against his chest. She could see the way he trembled beneath her, the way his hands strained to touch her but stayed put. “You belong to me. Say it.” 

“Yours,” he choked out, his voice raw. “Only yours.” She moved faster, her hips rolling against him, the wetness between them creating a soft, obscene sound that only fueled her need. She was close, so close, the coil of pleasure tightening in her belly, her clit throbbing with each stroke against his cock.

 “Ah—” she gasped, her movements faltering as she felt her climax building, but she stopped herself, pulling back slightly. His hips jerked upward instinctively, trying to follow her, but she planted a hand on his chest, holding him still. 

“Patience,” she scolded, her voice cutting through his desperate whimper. She reached down, wrapping her hand around his cock, holding it steady as she positioned herself above him. He groaned, his head falling back against the couch, his hands gripping the cushions like a lifeline. She lowered herself slowly, inch by agonizing inch, the stretch of her pussy around his cock making her shudder. He was thick, filling her completely, the sensation overwhelming as she sank down onto him. 

“Fuck,” she breathed, her voice shaky as she paused, adjusting to him. His cock twitched inside her, and she smirked through the haze of pleasure, leaning forward to whisper in his ear, “You’re so big, Lando.” 

He moaned, his hands twitching again, but he didn’t dare move them. “Please,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Please what?” she teased, lifting her hips just enough to let the tip of his cock slide out before sinking down again. “Please... let me touch you.” She shook her head, her movements steadying as she began to ride him, her hips rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm. 

“Not yet. You need to earn it.” He whimpered, his hips bucking slightly, trying to meet her rhythm, but she pressed a hand firmly against his chest, stopping him.

 “Behave,” she warned, her voice sharp, and he stilled immediately, his chest heaving with effort. “You’re so good for me,” she cooed, her voice softening as she picked up the pace, her hips grinding against him with every downward stroke. 

He felt incredible inside her, every thrust sending sparks of pleasure coursing through her body. She could feel him twitching, hear the way his breath was coming in ragged gasps, and it only fueled her dominance. She leaned back, her hands on his thighs for leverage, her pussy gripping him tightly as she rode him harder, faster. His cock was hitting that perfect spot inside her, the sensation undeniable as she felt her climax building again. 

“Lando...” she gasped, her voice breaking as she leaned forward, her hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Yes,” he whispered, his hands finally moving, but only to cradle her hips gently, not daring to take control. “Please, Y/N, come for me.” 

She moaned, her rhythm faltering as she felt herself tipping over the edge, her body tightening around him as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her head fell back, her mouth open in a silent cry as she rode out her orgasm, each gasp, each tremor making him shudder beneath her. When she finally stilled, her body still trembling, she looked down at him, her eyes dark with satisfaction. “You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice raw, and he nodded, his eyes glazed with want. 

But she wasn't done yet. Her hips rose and fell with purpose, each movement grinding him deeper into her. His cock pulsed, twitching inside her, and she could feel the tension in his body, the way he was fighting so hard not to thrust upward, to let her keep control. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest, her lips hovering just above his ear. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Her voice was low, smug, and she felt him shiver beneath her. He nodded, his chest heaving, his hands gripping the couch cushions like they were his anchor.

 “Yes,” he choked out, his voice strangled. “Please, Y/N...” 

“Please what?” She lifted herself slightly, letting just the tip of his cock slide out of her before sinking down again, slow and deliberate, watching his face twist in pleasure. 

“Please let me cum,” he whispered, his voice trembling, his eyes wide and desperate. His hands twitched, but he didn’t dare move them, didn’t dare try to touch her. 

She smirked, her hips rolling in a slow, torturous circle. “Ask properly.” He groaned, his head falling back against the couch, his jaw clenched as he fought for the words. 

“Please, Y/N... let me cum. I need it. I’m yours.” His voice broke on the last word, raw and unfiltered.

 “Good boy.” She leaned back, her hands resting on his thighs for leverage, and began to ride him harder, faster, her pussy gripping him tightly with every downward stroke. 

His cock hit just the right spot, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through her, but she kept her focus on him, on the way his body was trembling beneath her, on the way he was completely at her mercy. His hips jerked upward, unable to stay still any longer, but she stopped him with a sharp look, her hand pressing firmly against his chest. 

“Don’t,” she warned, and he froze immediately, his breath hitching as he nodded. 

“S-sorry,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “I’m trying, Y/N.” 

She smirked, leaning forward again, her lips brushing against his. “You’re doing so good for me,” she cooed, her voice dripping with sweetness. “But I think it’s time.” 

His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say something, but she swallowed it with a kiss, her tongue sliding against his as she began to move again, her hips grinding against him with purpose. She could feel him unraveling beneath her, his cock twitching, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. 

“Let go, Lando,” she murmured against his lips, her voice firm but soft. “Cum inside me.” 

His hands finally moved, but only to grip her hips gently, holding her steady as his body shook with the force of his orgasm. He cried out, his head falling back, his eyes squeezing shut as he spilled into her, his release hot and intense, filling her completely. She moaned, her own body trembling with pleasure as she felt his cock pulse inside her, each wave of his orgasm sending shivers through her. She stayed on top of him, her hips still moving slowly, drawing out every last bit of his pleasure until he was completely spent, his body limp beneath her.

 “Good boy,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him softly, her fingers brushing the sweat-dampened hair from his forehead. 

“You did so well.” He blinked up at her, his eyes glazed but still filled with devotion. 

“Yours,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but sure. “Always yours.” 

She smiled, her own heart swelling with a strange mix of power and affection. “Always,” she murmured, her lips finding his again. And in that moment, she knew neither of them would have it any other way. 

“Always,” he breathed, and she leaned down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss as she began to move again, her pussy still gripping him tightly. She wasn’t done with him, and he knew better than to object.

She stopped moving. Her body stilled on top of his, but the grip of her inner walls around his cock tightened, squeezing him with deliberate force. Lando groaned, his head tilting back against the couch, his hands instinctively gripping her thighs. But she didn’t let him take control—no, she was in charge now, and she would remind him of that.

“Ah—Y/N,” he choked out, his voice strained, his hips twitching beneath her as she held him captive inside her. She smirked, her lips curling into a small, satisfied smile as she leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest. Her hands slid up his shoulders, her nails lightly scraping his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

“Do you like that, Lando?” she purred, her voice low and teasing. Her hips shifted ever so slightly, the pressure of her pussy around his cock increasing just enough to make him gasp. “Do you like feeling me squeeze you? Knowing I could ruin you if I wanted to?”

He nodded frantically, his jaw clenched tight, his breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Yes, Y/N, I—I love it. I love you.”

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied his face, the way his pupils were blown wide with desire, the way his lips trembled as he struggled to hold himself together. “You’re so desperate,” she murmured, her voice soft but laced with dominance. “So eager to please me.”

His hands trembled on her thighs, but he didn’t dare move them, didn’t dare try to take control. “I am,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I’ll do anything for you, Y/N. Anything.”

She smirked, her hands sliding down to his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. “Anything?” she repeated, her tone teasing. “Prove it.”

With that, she lifted herself off him, her pussy sliding off his cock with a soft, wet sound. His cum leaked out of her, trailing down her thighs as she stood before him, her body glistening with sweat and arousal. She stared down at him, her eyes dark with satisfaction, as she brought two fingers to her entrance, sliding them inside herself slowly, deliberately.

“Fuck,” Lando breathed, his eyes glued to her hand, to the way her fingers disappeared into her wetness, the way she moaned softly as she touched herself. His cock twitched, semi hard and aching, desperate for her again.

She pulled her fingers out of her pussy, her arousal mixed with his cum coating her skin. She brought her fingers to her mouth, her eyes locking with his as she sucked them clean, her tongue swirling around the digits with deliberate slowness. Lando moaned, his hips jerking upward instinctively, but she stepped back, just out of reach.

She paused, her lips parting slightly as she tasted the mix of herself and him on her fingers. The salty tang of his cum mingled with the sweetness of her arousal, and she let out a low, throaty hum, savoring it. Her eyes hooded, fiiled with hunger, locked onto his, unrelenting. “You taste so good,” she murmured, her voice dripping with intent, each word deliberate, each syllable laced with control. She slid her fingers back into her pussy, slow and deliberate, feeling the heat of her own slickness coat them once more. The sound was obscenely wet, echoing softly in the room, and his breath hitched at the sight—at the way her body welcomed her touch, at the way her thighs trembled ever so slightly from the effort to keep herself upright.

Her gaze never wavered from his as she brought her fingers to her mouth again. This time, she took her index finger between her lips, sucking it clean with agonizing slowness, her tongue swirling around the digit, her cheeks hollowing as though she were savoring every drop. A soft moan escaped her, muffled by her fingers, but it sent a shiver through him nonetheless. When she finally pulled her finger free, her lips glistened and parted as she exhaled a shaky breath. Then she turned and walked toward the bathroom, her hips swaying with deliberate slowness. “Come on, Lando,” she called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with dominance. “Let’s take a shower.”

He hesitated for a moment, his chest still heaving, his cock semi hard and aching again, but he knew better than to disobey. He stumbled to his feet, his legs shaky as he followed her into the bathroom, where she was already turning on the water, steam beginning to fill the room.

She stepped into the shower, her back to him, and he followed, his eyes tracing the curves of her body as the water cascaded over her skin. She turned to face him, her eyes dark with satisfaction as she reached for the soap, lathering it between her hands before running them over his chest.

“How did it feel, Lando?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with dominance. “How did it feel to be completely at my mercy?”

He swallowed hard, his hands twitching at his sides as he fought the urge to touch her. “It—it felt amazing, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “I—I love it when you take control. When you make me yours.”

She smirked, her hands sliding down his chest, over his abs, and finally to his cock, her fingers wrapping around him with deliberate slowness. “Do you want me to take control again, Lando?” she purred, her eyes locking with his as her hand began to move, stroking him with measured precision.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling with need. “Please, Y/N, I need you. I’m yours. Always yours.”

She leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear, her breath hot and deliberate. “Good boy,” she whispered, her voice low and commanding. Her hand tightened around his cock, her grip firm yet teasing, her fingers sliding up and down his length with a slow, calculated rhythm. Her thumb circled his tip, smearing the bead of precum that had gathered there, her other hand cupping his balls, applying just enough pressure to make him shudder beneath her touch.

He groaned, his hips bucking slightly, but she held him in place with her free hand splayed across his chest, her nails digging lightly into his skin. “You’re doing so well, Lando,” she murmured, her lips trailing down his jaw to his neck, where she pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses, each one a spark of heat that made him tremble. Her hand moved faster now, her fingers twisting slightly at the base, her thumb brushing over his tip with every stroke, her grip on his balls tightening just enough to make him gasp.

“Ah—Y/N,” he choked out, his voice raw, his hands twitching at his sides. “Please,” he whispered, his chest heaving as he fought to hold himself together. She pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his, and she saw the desperation there, the raw need that mirrored her own. She smirked, leaning in to capture his lips in a searing kiss, her tongue sliding against his, her hand never slowing its pace on his cock.

Their kiss was messy, hungry, filled with the friction of teeth and lips and tongues. Her free hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her hips grinding against his thigh as she deepened the kiss, her hand stroking him faster, harder, her grip on his balls tightening with each passing second.

"Touch me," she commanded, her lips breaking from his, her voice a low growl that sent shivers down his spine. His hands moved immediately, trembling slightly as they reached for her breasts, his fingers brushing over her nipples, already hardened with arousal. He groaned, his thumbs circling her sensitive peaks, his hands cupping her breasts with a reverence that made her arch into his touch.

She moaned softly, her hand still working his cock, her strokes quick and firm, her other hand still playing with his balls, her nails lightly scraping the sensitive skin. She kissed him again, her lips and tongue demanding, her breath mingling with his as she pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth, “Cum for me, Lando.”

With a strangled cry, he obeyed, his release spilling over her hand, his body shaking with the force of his climax, his face buried in her neck as he whispered, broken and breathless, “Yours,” he gasped out, his body trembling as the last waves of his climax subsided, his lips pressing weakly against her skin. He pulled back slightly, his chest still heaving, his arms wrapped loosely around her. His eyes were heavy-lidded but gleamed with something new—something mischievous, something utterly him.

“You’re fucking terrifying when you’re like this, you know that?” The corner of his mouth twitched, his voice still rough but laced with teasing. His hands slid up her back, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over her skin, still slick with water from the shower.

Her eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at her lips as she stepped back slightly, her fingers trailing down his chest until they reached the base of his cock, still hard despite the release she’d just wrung out of him. “Terrifying?” she repeated, her voice low, her fingers tightening ever so slightly. “Is that a complaint, Lando?”

“No,” he breathed, his hips twitching involuntarily, his eyes darkening as she held him in her grasp. “It’s... god, it’s hot. You’re so fucking hot like this.” His voice trailed off, trembling slightly as he leaned into her, his forehead resting against hers. “But it’s not just that,” he whispered, his voice softer, more vulnerable now. “You’re everything. The way you take control, the way you *see* me—it’s like you’re the only one who’s ever really known me, known what I need.” His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “You’re not just hot, Y/N. You’re... you’re my forever.” His lips brushed hers, barely a touch, but it was enough to make her breath catch. “And I’m yours.”

[namgyunation]

Hi, absolutely love your writing style and that you not oversimplify characters.

You wrote before, that Nam-gyu and y/n (I’m not sure if she is even y/n) are fighting fiery and a lot. Could you write about one of those scandals and the behavior of both after it.

It can be your headcanons or a full drabble, you choose. Though I’d love to see replicas of both during the argument and afterwards.

Once again, love your works 💋

addicted to the drama

— pairing: nam-gyu x f!reader — summary: a relationship with someone like nam-gyu isn't easy, or peaceful. far from it, but you're in this shit for the long haul. OR; three fights with nam-gyu and three ways it gets 'resolved.' — warnings: suggestive moments, a littleeeee gross, he's especially gross in the second fight i'm sorry :(, mentions of sex but no crazy explicit smut, 18+, the girls are fightinggg, there's a little fluff in here, nam-gyu is veryyy not nice in the third fight and uses rather mean language, drug use, not proof-read! — word count: 11.3k — a/n: hiiiiii thank you so so much for the request and the kind words omg (seriouslyyy thank you :*)) <333 this is my first time ever doing one, so i hope i didn't stray too far from what you wanted, haha. i think nam-gyu is definitely a petty little shit when it comes to arguments with his s/o and definitely more than a little emotionally constipated. i went ahead and included 3 different fights, all with varying levels of seriousness lolol. i'm sorry it took so long, i got a little carried away LMAO. there's a bunch of my headcanons sprinkled in here ofc, but maybe i'll make a separate headcanons only post in the future TToTT I hope you like it!!! <3

In a bad mood, baby, come work me out.

You don't ask for much. You don't think you do, at least.

A tidy space meant a tidy mind meant a tidy life. It doesn't seem that hard of a concept to grasp. To you.

Nam-gyu's shoes are strewn lazily across the floor in front of you, shoe prints outlined and punctuated by a wetness that traced their path from start to finish. Rain water pools beneath the soles, dripping like a damn crime scene. You let out a deep sigh, swallowing your anger as you hung your jacket on the rack.

Your eyes flick over the apartment, taking a mental note of every offense and sorting them in the framework of your mind as you built your case. A discarded glass of iced tea on the island, half sipped, then forgotten. A stray sock on the floor, far from its home in the laundry bin overflowing with Nam-gyu's unfolded clothes. A cup of ramen with the chopsticks still in it. You step forward, grabbing a box of snacks on the coffee table. It was too light, nothing but cardboard and air as you shook it. Empty. You slam it into the recycling bin with more effort than necessary.

Your anger simmers, about ready to spill over as you push past the door to your bedroom. He's exactly where you knew he'd be, splayed out lazily across the bed in shorts and a loose shirt, one hand pillowing his head while the other gripped his phone.

"Nam-gyu."

He hums in vague acknowledgment, eyes still trained on his phone. You swipe at it, knocking it out of his hand, watching his face bloom with a mix of confusion and anger as it tumbles onto his chest, narrowly missing his face.

He curls his lip. "The hell is your problem?"

"Your shoes."

"My shoes," he responds flatly.

You suck in a breath. "In the middle of the floor. Dripping."

He rolls his eyes at you and puncutates it with a scoff. "My god. You're so dramatic."

You throw your arms out. "Is it that hard to wipe them and put them on the rack?"

"Yeah, yeah," he says. Dismissal. "I'll do it later, relax."

"You will not do it later."

He exhales, a hand dragging down his face like you're the one exhausting him. "Shit, you're so uptight sometimes. It's just a little mess."

You scoff. "A little mess that you leave sitting there for days!"

He grunts, the only sign that he heard you, before turning over onto his side to unlock his phone again.

Your eye twitches.

Fine.

The next morning, you don't put your makeup away after getting ready for work. Your cups populate the apartment, gathering on every surface like a small village. Your jackets find homes on the couch, the floor, the backs of the few chairs you two had. A stray sock joins his on the ground. Then a shirt. A pair of underwear. Fuck it. You add another sock for good measure.

It only takes two days for Nam-gyu to break. He catches you on the way to the bathroom, his hand digging into your waist as he whips you around, interrupting your plans to continue building the ongoing crime scene of makeup in the sink.

"Cut it the fuck out."

You smile. "I don't know what you mean."

He narrows his eyes, jaw clenching. "Oh my god, you're insane. I get it, okay? Fuck." His hand goes up to rub at his temples for a moment before dragging slowly down his face in defeat.

He points past you at the bathroom sink surrounded in puffs of eyeshadow and smears of foundation. "Deal with... that. I'll get the rest of it."

You stand there, biting back a smile as he lets out an exasperated sigh, pushing up his sleeves and tucking his bangs behind his ears before leaning down to tackle the mess—half you and half him. You're about to tease him when his eyes zero in on something on the ground. He picks it up with a smirk, holding it up in the air in front of you. It's your underwear.

"Honestly?" He looks away from you for a moment, his eyes dragging over it for too long, as if inspecting every twist of the lace. "I don't really mind if you keep leaving these around." He raises his eyebrows at you as a grin stretches across his face. You roll your eyes with a disgusted scoff, but you don't care, not really.

He opens his mouth to say something more, but you're already shutting the bathroom door behind you with a click.

You lean against the sink, hands gripping the cool marble as you let out a sigh of relief. Victory.

---

The next time you fight, it's under the pretense of something fun. You'd complained about how little time the two of you had spent together in the past week. Every time you were home, he was at work. Every time he was home, you were at work— or too exhausted from said work to do anything.

So he proposed a compromise. A night out together at the nightclub, he'd said. A nice way to spend time with each other even when he was on the clock. Like 'take your kid to work' day, except the 'kid' was his annoyed girlfriend. And the 'work' was a shady nightclub filled with too many loud, intoxicated people. And the 'day' was actually a night choking on smoke and sweat and too much noise that stretched way too long, like a guest overstaying their welcome.

You lean against Nam-gyu, staring out into the crowd of people as he tangles in conversation with another one of the club's regular VIPs. You found your head spinning from the revolving door of people that he'd spoken to all night. You wonder how someone as naturally introverted and—rough as him could stand this job.

You listen in, attention flitting in and out as they spoke. He says something so out of character that it catches you off guard. You let out an amused puff of air. He's too animated, too bubbly, too eager to please people that barely know his name. For what it was worth, he was certainly one hell of an actor. Anything to get the guests—and the drugs—coming over and over again, you suppose.

It's not long before you feel his warmth inch away from your body. An alarm. You look up, and his hands are already on your shoulders, rubbing quickly up and down in a way that signals 'hey, I'm about to do something that you probably don't want me to do, but I'm gonna do it anyways'. Your mouth is already opening to complain, but he beats you to it.

"I'm gonna step out for a second, okay?" He's not looking at you. He leans in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "This guy is offering me some good shit. Gotta take it. He's real important."

He brushes the ghost of a kiss to the back of your head, no doubt an attempt to placate your already building annoyance, but it barely registers. His hands pick up speed on your shoulders, rubbing the last bit of warmth into you before he's pulling away, smiling with enthusiasm as he leaves to pump more chemicals into his body.

You let your head tip back as your eyes shut. Nam-gyu never ceases to amaze you with just how many bad decisions he can make in one night. The air around you hums with music, closing in on your little spot by the bar. You drum your fingers against the counter, trying and failing to convince yourself that you're having fun.

You're about to stand—go outside to get some air maybe—when someone slips into the seat behind you, filling Nam-gyu's spot.

"Hey."

You startle a bit, not expecting the sudden conversation.

It's a man dressed in all black, a silver chain glinting against his collarbone. He smells like smoke and beer. Based on his attire, it's not hard to deduce that this is one of Nam-gyu's coworkers, another promoter, you were sure.

You nod at him politely, not really sure what to expect but not wanting to be rude, either. It'd be best not to cause problems with anyone working alongside your boyfriend, you figure. "Hello."

He's nice enough, asking you about how your night was going, what other clubs you'd been to, what kind of drinks you like.

Your face softens into a smile as the conversation continues, your initial suspicion simmering down and settling into something resembling ease as you realize he's just another guy on the clock doing his job: promoting the club.

He leans over, taking his phone out to show you something, and that's when you notice just how close he'd gotten to you since he sat down. You inch away slightly but still listen politely as he pitches one of the club's themed parties.

You nod your head with a vague interest as he scrolls through his photo gallery. Although you were never much into clubbing, you could admit that some of the events looked kind of cool. As he continues going through the photos, one in particular—a Valentine's night—catches your eye. You lean in, and your shoulders brush at the movement.

"That one's cute," you say, pointing at it as you take in the background details. Pink strobe lights, heart balloons, and rose bouquets. A small smile tugs at your lips as you imagine Nam-gyu in his work outfit, his sleeves rolled up and hair tucked behind his ears, knee-deep in a pile of cutesy, pink decorations. The thought brought some color to your cheeks. You'd have to bring it up to him later. Maybe that would be a more fun night for you to attend with him.

Unbeknowst to you, the man beside you was in the middle of taking your statement the completely wrong way. He raises his eyebrows, studying the pink dusting your cheeks and the way your face focused in on his phone screen. He scoots even closer, testing. When you don't react, he reaches out an arm, slowly draping over you as his hand finds its way to your shoulder. His grip on you is light, not forceful, not trapping, but you still stiffen at the contact.

"You think so?" he says, a smirk on his face. He ducks down so he's eye level with you. Too close. "Hey, if you promise me you'll go to our next one, I'm sure I can get you a discount," he brings his phone up again, tapping quickly until he's at the 'contacts' screen, "here, let me get your number so you can—"

You shrink back sheepishly, realizing that you have to nip this interaction in the bud. He looks at you, confusion written across his face, but he lets his arm fall to his side.

"Uh, sorry—do you know Nam-gyu?" you ask, thinking it was as good a time as any to bring him up.

He raises his eyebrows at the sudden shift in topic. "Nam-gyu...? Yeah. I work with him." A flash of recognition. His eyes widen. "Oh. Shit—are you the girl he came in with?"

You nod, a polite smile returning to your face as the man immediately retracts from you, an apologetic look on his face.

You open your mouth to speak, "Yeah, he's my—" Boyfriend, you try to say, but you're cut off by a rush of hands looping at your waist, tugging you backwards into a tight hold.

The familiar rumble of Nam-gyu's voice fills your ears as he leans over you. You twist around, looking up to see his face, both startled and relieved at his sudden entrance. He's staring down at you lazily through half-lidded eyes, and you can see how blown out his pupils are, even in the dim light. You barely have time to react or make a snarky comment before he's pressing his lips to yours, earning a small noise of surprise.

The kiss is welcome until a hand drifts to your chin, tilting you upwards, deeper, drifting into something that felt a little too intimate to be doing in a public space.

Remembering your audience, you pull away, a gentle hand on his chest acting as a barrier between the two of you. His coworker is looking at the two of you, his expression both sheepish and embarrassed, like he was intruding on something he shouldn't be— and honestly, he kind of was, what with the way Nam-gyu was glowering at him.

He stands up, giving Nam-gyu an apologetic nod as he clears his throat, hands flying to his pockets as he prepares to leave.

Nam-gyu smiles, nodding curtly back at him, but you know him well enough to recognize the tension in his jaw, the ingenuity in his smile. "Hey, man."

"Hey." He looks off to the side and then back again. "My bad, man. I didn't know she—"

"I think I can handle this one from here," Nam-gyu says, cutting him off with a barely disguised edge in his voice. There's a squeeze at your waist, a hand on your shoulder. "You can go find some other chicks to bother, right?" He cocks his head to crowd of people gathered in the center of the club, a small, mocking laugh leaving his lips. "I'm sure one of them will fuck you."

You recoil at his tone—and his gross implication, hand going up to lightly smack at his chest. You wonder if the drugs were cutting off the circulation to his brain.

"Nam-gyu!" you hiss, but he doesn't look at you.

His coworker curls his lip, eyes narrowing. "Jesus, dude. I said my bad. I didn't realize she was with you, alright?" He shook his head, turning around and promptly removing himself from the situation. He shot one last look at the two of you over his shoulder, returning the glare that Nam-gyu was still giving him.

Once his back fully disappears into the crowd, you stand up, knocking Nam-gyu's hands off of you as you fix him with a stare.

"What the hell was that?" you deadpan, arms crossing. "He literally said he was sorry."

"'What the hell was that?'" he mocks, his voice climbing a few octaves to match yours. He snorts, ignoring the frustration coloring your face. "I could ask you the same damn thing." He leans down, a hand drifting to the nape of your neck as he crowds into your personal space. "So. What were you two talking about? You seemed real interested." His tone dips low into something icy, accusatory.

You scoff at him, explaining how the conversation was friendly, how he was unaware of your status as a couple, how he instantly backed off at the first sign that you were uncomfortable—

But Nam-gyu ignores you, his hands travelling over your body until they find a home at your shoulders. He spins you around, and you let him, exhaustion hitting you as you realize that your statements were going in one ear and out the other. He rubs at your arms yet again as he pushes you forward, making you walk with him as he leads you to one of the side rooms—a VIP room, you come to realize.

"C'mon," he says, voice thick with whatever drug he'd just taken, "got s'more guests to entertain in here, and you get to come with me."

You roll your eyes. "Yayyy." You continue to count down the minutes left in his shift, but something told you that he was in the mood to clock in some over time.

The lounge is nice, spacious. It's at least a bit quieter than it is out in the main area, a perk you're somewhat thankful for as you adjust yourself on the couch. The guy from earlier is there too. You'd nodded at him when the two of you entered, small and polite and slightly apologetic. He ignored you, presumably for his own sake. You don't blame him.

The night continues, and you're silent, not really wanting to get in the way or be dragged into the conversation. You lean closer to Nam-gyu, craving his contact despite how annoying he's been. It wasn't exactly easy for you to relax in a room full of supposedly 'very important people' that you didn't know, all smiles and raucous laughter as they smoked and drank and huffed whatever came their way.

You were never the biggest fan of the world your boyfriend operated in, surrounded by substances and fast people with fast money that seemed to move quicker than their minds could make decisions, but it's what you signed up for when you got into a relationship with him, after all.

He's chatting it up with a particularly loud, and—unique-looking guy to his left, two girls practically melted into him at both sides. Goes by 'Thanos', you come to find out. A famous rapper with a lot of status and—from how he was speaking—a whole lot of money. His purple hair draws your attention, making his presence impossible to ignore in the confined space, that and his peculiar way of speaking, puncutated by random bursts of english.

You carefully snake a hand around Nam-gyu's arm, wanting to be closer but not wanting to interrupt. He gives you a small glance before brushing you off, you shoot him a look but then his arm is looping around your waist, pulling you into his side. He adjusts your legs so they're draped over his lap, and you redden, feeling like it was the slightest bit too much.

The others at the table didn't seem to mind, though, too caught up in their own conversations to care about your inner turmoil.

You slowly relax as he returns to his conversation. His hands are warm against you, one resting gently at the small of your back, the other rubbing light circles into the exposed skin of your leg. Nam-gyu was a touchy guy, something that you'd gotten used to in your time together. Always a hand at your shoulder, fingers ghosting against your hip, an arm slung lazily across your lap. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

It was fine at first, a comfort amidst the torturously long shift. His touches were soft, subtle, light, a welcome feeling.

Then, it escalates. He laughs at a particularly stupid joke from Thanos, too loud, too eager. It sounds fake. Whether it was due to the drugs or his desire to get into Thanos' good graces, you weren't sure. Either way, you don't have time to dwell on it before he's pulling you again, closer, until you're on his lap, his arms locking against your middle.

This, you conclude, was most definitely too much. You're quiet for a few moments as Nam-gyu's laughter winds down and Thanos turns to accept a joint from one of his lady-friends, a momentary calm falling over the room with the distraction.

You take the gap in conversation as an opportunity, fidgeting in your spot as you try to inch off of his lap. "Nam-gyu, can I get down?" you whisper.

He looks at you, his eyes blank as a playful smile creeps onto his face, but there's a tinge of something else there.

"What?" He lets out a breathy laugh, raising his eyebrows. His fingers ghost over your waist, your ribs, the slope of your neck. Then, he's tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ears, smiling at you like a lovesick fool. You balk at the attention. He wets his lips before biting down on them. Eyeing you with a sudden razor-sharp focus. His voice comes out even, "You bored of me all of a sudden?"

You stare at him, incredulous. "What is with you right now?" He's not normally like this—touchy, yes, but not this... animated.

Nam-gyu just chews on his cheek, thinking for a moment before ultimately choosing to ignore your question. He pulls you closer until you're flush against his chest, your face burning red with embarrassment as he continues to hold you, his touch skimming dangerously close to indecency. You turn to the side, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze. At least he was warm, a silver lining.

Across the table, Nam-gyu locks eyes with his coworker, a silent battle still simmering in the weight of their stares.

This—his performance—was for everyone to see.

For him to see.

It wasn't even about you anymore. Just Nam-gyu's pride, his desire to win, even when no one else was playing the game.

A small misunderstanding, of which an apology had already been issued, it's fairly easy to let go, but Nam-gyu was never a fan of 'easy'.

The night pushes on, as does he. He whispers things you'd deem not very appropriate for company, much closer than necessary as he breathes against your neck, lips skimming the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. You mumble back a response, his fingers toying with the strap of your dress.

His behavior finally comes to a head a few moments later. Everyone at the table is chilled out, seemingly in a haze, likely from the weed and whatever else was spread out on the table. You wonder if it was finally about time for you to shove Nam-gyu in the car and go home.

Then, his hand is on your chin, guiding you to look up at him and fixing you with a stare that lasts a few beats too long, and then he's leaning down, closer, too close, pressing a kiss to your lips that he tries to deepen. It's dizzying, overwhelming, and entirely unlike him. You quickly break the contact, not giving him the opportunity to up the intensity. Not in front of all these people.

Thanos whistles from his seat, long and drawn out. It makes you want to melt into the couch.

Your face is red as you stand, suddenly aware of all the eyes on you.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you say, voice coming out in a flurry as you turn away from him.

Behind you, he meets eyes with his coworker for the last time that night, a cocky, infuriating smirk on his face.

He picks up the jacket that you'd left on the couch, throwing it over his shoulder before tossing a lazy 'goodbye' over his shoulders as he follows you. The performance was over.

The silence on the car ride home is suffocating, the engine humming beneath the tension. The energy shift is palpable—one second he was all over you, whispering into your ear and raking his fingers over every expanse of exposed skin, and then, nothing.

Nam-gyu had sobered up enough to drive, thankfully, because you were in no mood to do so. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, his other arm leaning out the window. His posture is lazy, leaning back in his seat with his legs spread out in a way that appears casual, but the way his jaw is set, the tension in his knuckles where he grips the steering wheel, the effort he expends to not meet the stare you're boring into the side of his head—it all betrays him, how he really feels.

His lips are set into a thin, irritated line as he drives. His eyes flick to the radio, and his hand leaves the steering wheel for a moment as he turns it on, upbeat pop music filling the car but doing little to mask the fact that he was simmering, barely keeping his temper in check.

You ran out of patience from waiting for him to speak first. "So. You done being weird now?"

Nothing.

"Nam-gyu."

Still nothing.

You let out a small huff that trails off into a laugh. "Wow. So you can run your mouth all night, but now all of a sudden you're quiet?"

His fingers tighten on the steering wheel at that, his pointer finger twitching as he taps against it, the subtle clinking of his ring against the wheel queueing you in to how close you were to getting a reaction.

You roll your eyes. "You're such a fucking child, sometimes. You know that?"

"Shut up."

Your eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"I said," he hisses, eyes narrowing as his grip on the wheel tightens, "shut up." There's something in his voice that makes you listen. It's low, firm, clipped in a way that tells you he's barely keeping himself from snapping.

You study him, taking note of the way he bites at his lip, the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows hard, and the way his hand flexes against its resting spot by the window.

You huff, turning to face the window and mirroring his posture.

Fine.

Soon, he's shifting the car into park, but he doesn't move. Doesn't turn off the engine.

Just sits there.

You don't turn around to face him. He doesn't ask you to, either.

The low rumble is the only sound between the two of you.

You didn't want to be the first one out of the car, and clearly, he didn't want to be either. It was like you two were in a standoff—a childish, petty standoff.

The silence is pointed, buzzing under the weight of all the things you weren't saying to each other. He lets out a sharp exhale, and you feel his stare on the back of his head. You refuse to turn around, refuse to give him the satisfaction.

You feel it, the way he's sitting there waiting for you to break the silence, as if this was somehow your fault and it was your responsibility to rectify it—waiting for you to sigh and grab his hand or say something snarky to give him an excuse to argue with you. It doesn't come.

He's the first to break, clearly tired from his shift, not to mention hungry for something to put in his body other than drugs ands cheap beer. He lets out a scoff before finally shifting the key in the ignition, shutting off the comforting thrum of the engine. He throws his door open, slamming it behind him as he fishes the apartment keys out of his pocket, not sparing you a glance as he walks towards the building.

You roll your eyes as you follow him, not like you had much choice.

The apartment is dim when you step inside, the only light coming from the fridge where Nam-gyu is standing, his body haloed in white as he pulls out a few snacks.

You flick on the light, ruining the dramatic environment he was building. You hang up your jacket and kick off your shoes, shutting the door behind you with a click as you fix him with a stare.

He turns, popping a few bites of something in his mouth before he leans against the counter, not meeting your eyes and instead staring at the wall across from him as if it had somehow become the most interesting thing in the world.

You suck in a breath, a mixture of annoyance and exhaustion swirling inside you. In all honesty, you just want to go the fuck to sleep.

"Nam-gyu."

Nothing.

Fuck, you hated this. Hated when he clammed up and backed himself into a corner, turning his nose up at you and forcing you to drag the issue out of him like you were pulling teeth, like he was a damn child. Because why would he ever just tell you what the problem was so you two could talk it out? That'd be way too easy for the both of you.

You drag a hand down your face, pushing past him and moving towards the bedroom, your patience running extremely, extremely thin.

"Jesus, you're exhausting."

His lip twitches at that. "What, running away again?" he says, voice indignant as he steps in front of you, cutting you off.

"Ohhh." You throw your hands up at him, a mocking smirk on your face. "Now you wanna talk."

He closes in on you, so close that you can smell the smoke and chemicals still clinging to his clothes. He looks like he's going to speak, but he doesn't, just presses his lips into a tight, thin line, his expression laced with irritation.

You roll your eyes at the silence. He has no room to talk, and you know it. He knows it too, clear in the way he won't open his mouth.

"If you're gonna throw a temper tantrum every time a guy speaks to me, go ahead. Just leave me out of it." You step back from him, finding your way to the couch. If he wants to act like a dick, fine. Let him.

"I threw a tantrum?" he says, voice laced with something icy as his jaw ticks.

"Yes, Nam-gyu," you say, voice going high as if you were speaking to a child, "a whole fucking scene, actually."

He watches you with silent anger as you fluff up the couch pillows.

You hear a snort behind you. "Oh, sleeping on the couch, huh? Cute."

"Better than sleeping next to you right now."

A beat of silence.

Then— "Fine. Whatever. Do whatever the fuck you want."

He stomps into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

You stare down at your lap, brows furrowed in anger as you gave yourself a moment to calm down. Then, it dawned on you that you were still in the dress you'd worn to the club with makeup still on your face, the only change of clothes being in the room now occupied by your angry boyfriend.

Dammit. You lay against the couch. It's too lumpy. Too cold, without your thick blanket and Nam-gyu's shared body heat. The dress is tight against your skin.

Still, you lay there for a good ten minutes, refusing to fold.

When your efforts to wait him out prove to be fruitless, you let your eyes flutter shut with a sigh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction but knowing that there was no way you were going to get a good night's sleep out here.

Reluctantly, you get to your feet and shuffle quietly to the bedroom door. You linger there for a moment, steeling yourself.

Behind the door, Nam-gyu is laying in bed, clad in only his boxers as he stares up at the ceiling in the dark, his arms crossed over his chest as he drums his fingers anxiously, angrily, against his skin. His work clothes sat in a crumpled heap by the laundry basket, taken off and dumped in a flurry as he waited for you, refusing to get ready for bed before you cut the act and gave in, like you always did. He knew you'd kill him if you found out he'd laid on the bed with outside clothes.

He reaches over to his phone on the night stand, quickly clicking it on before shutting it off again.

Ten minutes. Fuck. How long were you gonna keep this up for?

His body twitches in reluctant defeat, and he's about to get up, swallow his pride to scoop you up from the couch and drag you into bed so he could get some goddamn sleep—but the sound of the door creaking open saves him. He swallows, body going still against the bed as you step inside.

A wave of relief washes through him, and he exhales like he's been holding his breath since the two of you had stepped foot in the car. He quickly recovers, though, a smug expression replacing his initial relief, hiding the fact that he was waiting for you.

You slink across the floor, refusing to make eye contact with him as you push the closet open and search for your pajamas.

"Oh, look who it is," he laughs, propping himself up on his elbows. "Miss me already, huh?"

You don't respond, eyes narrowing as you stack your clothes in a pile next to you. After gathering everything, you stand up and make your way towards the door without shooting him a glance.

You pause, curling your lip as the smell of the nightclub reaches your nose.

"You stink. At least have the decency to shower after the club before you roll around in our bed."

His expression sours behind you as you make your way out.

You shower quickly, half convinced if you took too long that Nam-gyu was going to bust in and try to argue with you again. You dry your hair, pull on your pajamas, and brush your teeth. When you open the door, he's there, sitting on the couch in his boxers. He doesn't look at you as he gets up, nudging you with his shoulder as he makes his way inside.

"Took you long enough," he scoffs.

You roll your eyes.

His shower is quick, rushed. When the door to the bathroom opens, all the steam escapes. He stands in the doorway with his towel clinging loosely to his hips, hair dripping as he shuts the door behind him, his skin pink from the scorching water.

You quickly still on the couch, shutting your eyes as you pretend to be asleep, trying to play it off like you weren't listening intently, waiting for his shower to be over. Waiting for him to crack so you didn't have to actually spend your night on the damn couch.

He lingers in the doorway for a moment, squinting as he zeros in the outline of your body. Then, you hear the soft pad of his footsteps as he makes his way over, the sliver of light pouring in from the bathroom being his only guide as he towers over you.

"I know your ass isn't asleep," he says, eyes narrowing as he crouches down next to your face.

You don't react. He wets his lips, mind reeling, searching for his next move.

Then, his hands are gently resting on your side. You swallow, holding your breath in anticipation. The heat of his skin prickles against you, still steamy from his shower, the damp scent of his shampoo filling the space between you.

And then—his fingers press into your sides, and he's tickling you.

You yelp, eyes flying open and body jerking violently as his fingers dig into your ribs, mapping over every ticklish spot on your body that he'd come to know in the time you two had been together.

"N-Nam-gyu!" you try to yell at him, but it trails off into shaky laughter, his touch relentless.

You can't hold it in, after all, who could? And then you're a red, laughing mess beneath him, your hands coming out from where they were pillowing your head a few moments prior, trying-- and failing, to get him off of you.

You try to twist away from him, but he follows, grinning now.

"Oh?" he says, his voice mockingly sweet, "I thought you were asleep?"

He clambers on top of you, water dripping from his hair and onto your dry, warm pajamas. You want to yell at him for not drying off completely before he came out, but you can't get it out between your laughter.

He's laughing now, too, his grin growing wider, and this time, there's no venom there, no smug satisfaction, no anger. It's just him and you. Giggling in the almost-darkness on your lumpy couch in your small apartment, tucked away in your own little pocket of the world.

"You—asshole!" But you can't stop laughing, grinning so hard it hurts, despite how badly you wanted to be mad at him. "I hate you!"

He shakes his head, eyes not leaving you for a second. "No, you don't." He smirks, pressing one last ticklish squeeze in your side, before relenting and taking a seat at your legs.

You're breathless, gasping and heart racing, still half-trapped beneath him.

He stares at you for a moment. His grin softens. Yours does, too.

He knows he'd been an asshole this whole night. Knew it before and after the drugs had worn off.

And though he still doesn't say it—I'm sorry—as if his body won't allow him to say it—he leans forward, hair still dripping onto your face, and he nudges his forehead against yours. Just once.

You let out a shaky, exasperated breath, finally able to compose yourself.

Your hand goes up to rest on his bare shoulder, a beat passes, and then you're tugging him gently down, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"You," you say, shutting your eye as a droplet narrowly misses it, "are the biggest fucking baby alive."

He grunts.

You laugh, amused. In that moment, you know you'd won.

"Jealous little freak."

That earns you a huff.

The two of you sit there for a while, coming down from the moment. Once you can no longer stand the water dripping onto you, you shove him off.

"Hurry up and get ready for bed. I'm tired."

There's a ghost of a smile on his face as you push past him and collapse onto the bed.

Soon, he flops down next to you, the bed shifting under his added weight.

Silence.

He turns his head. A beat.

"So. You wanna fuck? Or..."

You exhale sharply through your nose in lieu of a response, rolling over to curl into his chest.

You press a kiss to his jaw as he drapes a hand across your waist, your voice sweet and laced with sleep as you lean into him, breath brushing against the shell of his ear as you whisper, "Go the hell to sleep."

He snorts, and soon, you're both drifting off into your own worlds.

---

The third time, it's not petty, not over a bout of jealousy.

It starts over money.

Of course it does. It always does.

You stand over him, trying to rub away the tension in your temples as he scrolls through his phone, ignoring you like he has all the time in the world.

"Seriously? You spent how much?" Your face is hot. "Are the drugs that good? They have to be, with how much money you throw away over them!"

Nam-gyu doesn't even look up at you. He's slouched, legs spread against the couch as he scoffs. "Why the fuck do you care?"

Your eyes widen. "Why do I— Nam-gyu, are you actually serious right now?"

He exhales sharply, shutting his eyes for a few seconds, as if this wasn't an extremely important and serious conversation. The sight makes your blood boil. He shuts off his phone and tosses it onto the coffee table with a clack.

"Look. I made the money—so I spent the money." He looks up at you then, his expression screaming that he'd rather be anywhere ot her than here. "I don't think it's that hard to understand."

"Yeah? With what fucking rent money, genius?" you spit back, your pulse quickening at his condescending tone.

He narrows his eyes at you, jaw flexing. Dangerous. "I said." He stands, looking down at you now. "I'll handle it." He presses two fingers to your chest, shoving you back lightly, a warning. "Now can you get the fuck off my back?"

You laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Really? When? Before or after the landlord's knocking on our door?" Your voice rises, the anger bubbling in your chest, getting ready to spill over. "Fuck, Nam-gyu! You always do this! Blow through your money—our money—like it's nothing and then act like I'm the problem for calling you out on it!"

"Oh yeah?" he says, stepping closer. His neck is tense. "And you do what? SIt there and bitch at me like you're my fucking mother?"

The words sting, but you don't back down. You open your mouth to fire back, but he's already speaking, practically yelling now.

"I was working. What the hell do you want me to do?"

"Working?" You bark out a laugh, mocking, incredulous. "That's what you call working? Getting fucked up and blowing your money on drugs for people that won't even remember your damn name?"

He takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he bites his lip. You're sure he's about to explode. It doesn't scare you.

"It's my job!" he yells, lips curling into a sneer. "What, you think you're an expert on my job now?"

"Your job is to promote the club, not snort half the fucking inventory!"

His face darkens, and something ugly twists in his features. You can't deny the way your hands shake at your sides.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too," you spit back.

The air shifts, the silence hanging between you two heavy and suffocating.

He shakes his head, looking off to the side like you were being ridiculous as he runs a hand through his hair. "You love doing this shit, don't you? Acting like you're so much better than me, like you've got everything figured out." He juts his chin out at you. "I bet you were just waiting for a reason to fucking lecture me again, huh?"

"Oh my god, Nam-gyu, this isn't about me. This is about your reckless spending habits—"

"And there it is! It's always my fault, isn't it? I'm always the villain, the big, bad piece of shit ruining your life. A screw-up that you have to fix." He smirks. "Go ahead. Call me a screw-up. I know you fucking want to."

You groan. "Do you hear yourself right now? I've never called you a screw-up! That's all in your head."

"Oh, yeah, but you sure as hell think it," he sneers, taking a step towards you. You don't move, determined to stand your ground. "You're always talking down to me like I'm an idiot. Like i'm just some loser that you have to babysit, because you're such a saint for putting up with someone like me." His eyes flash with anger. "You just wanna control me."

"Oh?" you huff, eyes narrowing. "So that's what this is about? Your ego?" Nam-gyu's jaw flexes at that, daring you to continue. "I don't wanna control you, Nam-gyu! I want to build a life with you! But you just keep sabatoging yourself—blowing through our savings on useless shit and poisoning your body while I try to save you!"

He laughs, a bitter, hollow sound. "I knew it!" He turns around and walks away from you, hands going up to tug at his hair as he paces across the floor. "You're just like every other bitch I've ever met. Always running your fucking mouth—acting like you know better. Acting like I need to be saved."

Your anger comes to a head, simmering and simmering until it was at the edge, just about ready to boil over. You step forward, cutting him off. "Maybe because you fucking do!"

He pauses, his face going blank as he stares at you. For a second—just a second—he looks wounded. Like you'd slapped him.

Then— "Oh, fuck off." He spits the words out like it's poison, hands falling from their place in his hair and leaving it a tousled mess. "You wanna 'save' me? What are you, my fucking mother?" His fingers twitch at his side. Then he scoffs, shaking his head at you, and a bitter smile stretches across his face. "No. You're not like my mom. You're worse. At least she knew when to shut the fuck up."

That did it.

Your anger boils over finally, coursing through every vein and artery until your body moves faster than you can think.

You slap him.

The sound cracks through the apartment like a gunshot.

He stumbles back, eyes wide and lips parted in genuine shock. He says nothing as he brings a hand up to his cheek, fingers pressing against the red mark blooming against his cheek. He's quiet for a moment.

Then: a laugh. Sharp and cold, slashing through the silence.

"Oh. Hah. There she is." He grins, but his eyes are wild. "The real you. The one who pretends to be so mature and understanding, but the second I hit a nerve, you turn into a hysterical, emotional bitch."

Your heart is slamming against your ribs now, and there's something hot pushing behind your eyes.

"I hate you." Your voice was shaking.

He doesn't flinch, just stands there, staring at you, but his fingers twitch, something cold taking form in his chest like a stone.

"Good." His voice is low, cold. Fake. "Then why the fuck are you still here?"

Something inside you snaps. Because underneath all the anger, you can hear what he's really saying.

Why haven't you left me yet?

But you're too furious to give him the reassurance you know he desperately wants—the reassurance he's waiting for with bated breath and clenched fists.

You won't give him the satisfaction.

You push past him, throwing the door open to the bedroom, one hand grabbing frantically at your clothes, the other clumsily fishing in your pocket for your phone. He follows you, suddenly silent.

You hear his breathing from the doorway. Heavy. Unsteady. Panicked. You pretend not to notice.

You dial your best friend, quickly bringing it up to your ear to hide the screen from Nam-gyu, hands trembling with anger.

"Hey," you say as soon as your friend picks up, voice shaking, "can you come get me?"

Nam-gyu's blood runs cold, something icy snaking through him and squeezing his chest like a vice.

Despite it all, he still finds a way to be an ass, another sharp laugh clawing its way out of his throat. "You're serious? That's all it takes?" He steps forward, his indifference betrayed by his breathing, fast and raggedy. "What, been waiting for an opportunity to finally be rid of me, you whore?"

You turn to face him, your hands going still as you lock eyes with him, eyes burning.

"You don't mean that." Your voice comes out so, so small.

Nam-gyu's breath stutters, disarmed by the way you're looking at him.

You see his face rewind before you, and for a second, he's the boy you met back in university. Vulnerable, unsure, timid, scared—and you saw it. A flicker of panic and regret across his face, knowing he'd pushed it the slightest bit too far. Knowing you were at the edge. It was up to him to pull you back.

And for a second, you really believe it. That he will.

But then—

Ego.

His pride.

His biggest fucking downfall.

"Nah," he scoffs, looking away as he feigns indifference. "I meant every word."

Your stomach twists. You grab your bag and pull yourself to your feet. You won't cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

He turns around, leaning against the doorframe and forcing you to watch his back while his face goes slack, teeth grit behind his lips as he holds his breath. "So. Are you leaving, or not?"

You push past him, bag in hand as you make your way to the door. He follows you, watching as you pull on your coat. He doesn't reach for you, doesn't stop you. His expression doesn't change, but the way his throat bobs—the way his hands shake despite his best efforts to hide them in his pockets—it tells you everything.

And this time, you don't have it in you to read between the lines, to decipher the stupid act he's putting up. All because he can't be an adult and say what he really means.

You grab your bag from the floor, a ding popping up on your phone: a text from your friend saying that she was outside.

Your hand is resting on the door knob, twisting, when his voice comes out—low, cracking.

"You're really gonna do this?"

You don't look at him. Just push through and slam the door shut.

He doesn't follow.

And just like that, Nam-gyu was alone. He lets out a shaky breath that he forgot he was holding, gripping at his sides like it would keep him from falling apart.

Suddenly, despite your absence, everything is much too loud. Louder than before. The hum of the refrigerator. The buzz of the wiring in the walls. The padding of his footsteps against the hardwood as he threw himself onto the couch, his legs suddenly too shaky for him to stand.

"Whatever," he says to the oppressive silence. "She'll be back." His voice cracks, unsure. Like he doesn't even believe the words as he's saying them.

Tension crawls up his back, settling into his limbs like a concrete block. He sits there for longer than he should've, an invisible weight pushing down on his shoulders. He won't say it, but he's waiting for you.

You don't come back that night.

The next day passes by him in a blur, thick with alcohol and chemicals. He's in the bedroom, his phone on the floor next to him. He pushes his palms against his temples, quick gasps burning his lungs.

His fingers twitch, exhausted with the effort of keeping still, but he won't do it. He won't text you. Won't call you. He won't let himself. His heart pounds craters into his chest as he sucks in a deep, labored breath.

His own words from the day before echo in his head. He'd wanted to push you, break you down, make you feel as small as he did. And it worked.

And now?

Now you were gone.

It was fine. It was fine. He pulls himself to his feet, something icy creeping up his spine. Nothing some weed couldn't fix.

As he stumbles to his feet, he catches himself wishing that he'd been scheduled for work today. Something to distract him. The thought makes him laugh, hollow and flat.

His hands shake as he struggles with his lighter, trying and failing to get a flame. He curses, arms dropping to his sides as he leans against the couch. Fuck this.

He slides down the couch until he's spilling onto the floor in a heap. There's something hot and wet pushing behind his eyes now, betraying him as it finally falls. He swipes at his face, biting back the frail noises threatening to spill from his throat. He doesn't want to hear it. His hands make fists in the material of his shirt, and he hardens his jaw, forcing himself to breathe slowly as his mind short circuits.

It was fine.

You'd be back tonight. He was sure of it. He tries the lighter again, and this time, it catches.

You crash at your friend's place. She doesn't ask questions, and you don't offer answers. It wasn't like this was the first time you fled to her house after a fight with Nam-gyu had gone sour. Your friend's guest room was practically yours, at this point.

The bed is comfortable, warm, but it does nothing to calm the threads of anxiety twitching through your limbs. You grab your phone, checking for the fifth time to make sure that it wasn't on silent.

It wasn't, and as you thought, there was nothing new. No text, no call. You let out a puff of air and continue to pretend like you don't care.

A few moments later, you turn over, fumbling for another pillow in the darkness. You hold your breath, lip trembling as you squeeze it tight, biting back your tears. He didn't deserve it. To make you cry.

"Fucking asshole."

Unfortunately for you, he was right.

The next day, you do your best to stay away. Enjoy your friend's company. Calm the images of Nam-gyu's limp body flickering through your mind like a cruel recording on loop.

Then— "I'm sorry," you say, ducking your head at your friend. She pauses the movie the two of you are watching, and she doesn't startle, as if she already knows what you're going to say next. "Could you drive me home?" Your voice is sheepish, embarrassed, as you keep your eyes on the floor.

You can almost hear Nam-gyu's voice. 'How typical. Knew you'd come crawling back.'

Your friend just nods, keeping her thoughts on the matter to yourself. For that, you're thankful.

Soon, you're rounding the corner, fumbling with your keys before finally pushing past the door, betraying yourself yet again.

And he was there, right where you left him.

He’s half-slouched on the ground, his back against the couch as he stares up at the ceiling. He'd shoved the coffee table out of the way to make room for himself. His limbs are outstretched on the floor, loose and lazy. Like a cat, you think. It would've been cute, had it been under different circumstances.

A joint burns low between his pointer finger and thumb, dangling dangerously close to the rug at the foot of the couch. He brings it to his lips and takes a long drag. A stray piece of ash falls from the end and burns black into the plush fabric. A permanent stain. A reminder.

The room reeks of weed, a cloud of smoke floating lazily around the ceiling in a slow-motion circuit. The smell curls in your lungs like the argument still lingering between you. You don’t even care.

He didn't look at you when the door opened. Not when the door shut. Not when you cover your nose and mouth with your sleeve, quickly throwing the window open and ushering the hazy cloud outside as if it had the agency to listen.

He doesn’t blink when you come to a stop at his feet, your shadow falling over him like a blanket. He continues to stare up at the water stained ceiling, regarding it with a calm indifference, like a painting he couldn’t understand.

Your eyes rake over him, taking in every inch of his sorry state. He’s in the same clothes you last saw him in, shirt wrinkled and pants twisted low on his hips. His hair stuck out oddly like he’d just woken up from a nap. His eyes are red and swollen, but you know it’s not just from the weed. He barely acknowleges you, save for a lazy flick of his eyes.

You kneel next to him and and press a palm to the warmth of his chest. His face is blank, even, his mouth pressed into a thin line, but his heartbeat betrays him, hammering beneath your fingers like it was trying to get out. A bird making panicked circles on the floor of an open cage.

He lets out a quiet laugh, but it’s weak and tired, bordering on something desperate.

"You stink," you mutter.

Nam-gyu lets out a humorless snort. "Then leave." But he doesn't mean it, not really. His heart quickens beneath your fingers, no doubt scared that you actually might.

But you don't. Instead, you pluck the joint from his fingers and stub it out in the ashtray on the coffee table.

He blows smoke into your face. You don’t blink.

Your fist closes around the fabric of his shirt just above his heart, the soft cotton spilling out between the gaps of your fingers as you clamber on top of him.

He doesn’t react. Doesn’t meet your eyes. You lean down, tilting your head forward so that your foreheads touch. Your hair falls from behind your shoulders, draping over the two of you in a gentle curtain.

The smell of weed is thick as you press a kiss to his cheek. Your free hand comes up to cup his face, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly before straying to the nape of his neck. His lips part weakly, as if he's going to say something snarky, something mean, to remind you of the other day.

Your breath is hot against the shell of his ear as you speak, voice barely above a whisper, “Just... Shut up, okay?” You press another kiss to the top of his forehead, pleading. Soon, your face finds its home in the crook of his neck. You breathe him in, the smell of his skin grounding you, still managing to reach you through the haze of smoke and chemicals. "Please."

And for the first time in a while, he listens.

Nam-gyu says nothing. Not when your fingers comb through his mess of hair. Not when you're tugging his limp body up, up, pushing him—stumbling and dazed—into the shower. Not when you're peeling off his clothes and yours, switching on the faucet and rubbing circles of soap onto the gentle slope of his back as the shower fills with steam.

He won't tell you how much he appreciates it. He won't tell you a lot of things.

He's quiet as he pulls on his pajamas and sinks into the bed like a stone. Relief washes through him as the bed shifts beneath your added weight. His shoulders ease up for the first time since you'd left, though he won't tell you that, either.

The next morning passes like any other. There is no sorry. No kisses pressed to your neck or hands looped around your waist. You weren't expecting it, anyways. You don't dwell on it. Not like you had the time, to. Instead, you roll out of bed, shake the sleep from your body, pull your work clothes on, and start your day.

Later that day, when your key clicks in the lock and your legs cross the threshold, the apartment smells different.

Not weed, not chemicals, not the lingering smell of smoke.

Your eyes trail across the apartment, taking note of everything. The counters are wiped down, the floors swept. Even the clutter that usually lingered around—his clothes, empty bottles, dirty dishes—gone.

You raise your eyebrows as you hang the jacket by the door.

You lean against the counter, unable to keep the look of pure surprise off of your face as you watch his back. Nam-gyu is cooking, a novelty from when you two first got together. Before he'd sunk deeper into his drug habit.

"What's this?"

He doesn't look at you. "Food."

"Wow," you press, testing. He looks at you over his shoulder before turning back to the pot on the stove. "You? Cooking?" You lean in closer, trying to catch his eyes. "Am I dreaming right now?"

He shrugs, stirring the pot. "You always bitch about me eating. So I'm eating."

You purse your lips, deciding not to comment on his wording.

You can't remember the last time he'd cooked. It was always you. Or takeout. Or you reminding him to eat, that drugs and alcohol weren't enough to make up a healthy diet.

He flicks the stove off and grabs a plate from the cabinet, wordlessly spooning a scoop of freshly cooked rice onto the plate, still steaming. He shoves it into your hands before grabbing another plate for himself. He moves out of the way, gesturing at the pot like it'd inconvenienced him.

"It's still hot," he says blankly. His voice is tight, clipped, but you know it's just his way of masking his nerves. Tiptoeing around you like one wrong word might send you flying out the door again. "Now shut up and eat."

The food was delicous.

It tasted like nostalgia, bringing you back to the early days where he'd always cook for you, butterflies blooming in your stomach as your legs bumped against each other under the table, flirting under the warm kitchen light.

Back when his job was just a job. A 'for now'. Before it tangled and spiraled with his being, melting into him until you weren't sure where it ended and he began, the fuel for his fire, stoking his addictions and anger and insecurities until it grew big and ugly and distorted.

The thought made your chest tighten a bit, so you push it out of your mind, hands readjusting in your lap as you refocus on the movie playing in front of you.

The two of you sit on the couch, the glow of the TV flickering dimly across the walls.

Nam-gyu is beside you, sprawled as usual, his legs spread wide and taking up an offensive amount of space. His fingers drum absentmindedly against his knee, his other hand fidgeting with his ring. He hasn't reached for you all night, but every now and then, you feel his eyes flick toward you.

Like he was waiting.

And then, without a word, he pushes something into your lap.

You startle a bit at the sudden movement. You look down, and your mouth falls open.

A plushie. It's a chubby, white bunny. Soft and cute.

You wonder when he went to the store. You picture him walking up and down the aisles, scanning the shelves and chewing his lip nervously as he decides what to get you. You imagine him checking out, slamming the plushie down on the counter before roughly tapping his card.

Then, you notice the small, black box sitting on its tummy. You almost didn't notice it, blinking down at it in shock.

You pick it up, face incredulous as you turn to him.

"You bought me something?" you say, breathless, as you turn it over in your hands.

He doesn't answer, just keeps his eyes trained on the screen. His leg bounces restlessly, both hands fidgeting with their respective rings.

You sigh, and it's soft, so soft, as something wells up in your chest. "Nam-gyuuu..." you start, leaning towards him.

"Just shut up and take it," he grumbles, still refusing to look at you. "Or don't. I don't care."

You stare at him for a long moment. His ears are pink, just barely hidden behind his long, black hair.

You decide to give him a break and open the box. Inside is a silver chain, dainty, shiny, and exactly your style. It's also real. You lift it out with a gasp.

Nam-gyu doesn't turn his head, but his eyes flick to you for a moment, taking in your reaction. Something in him unclenches.

The pendant hanging off of it is small, but it's beautiful, sturdy. You let it fall against your palm, the silver catching the dim light from the television as you inspect it. It's a star.

You pout, eyes going wide and glossy as you turn to look at him. He exhales sharply. Then, you notice something else in the box, a baggie tucked away in the corner of the velvet lining. You hold it up to the light, trying to see what it is.

It's another star, just as dainty as yours, except somehow smaller.

"Is this an extra one in case I lose mine?" you ask, genuinely curious.

The moment he sees what you're holding, his whole body tenses. His knee stops bouncing, and his fingers freeze. Then, without hesitation, he snatches the bag from your grasp.

"Nothing," he mutters, shoving it deep in his pocket.

You blink. "Did you—" your voice trails off, realization dawning on you. Your heartbeat picks up. "You bought a matching charm?"

Nam-gyu glares at the TV like it'd personally offended him. "Oh my god. I said it's nothing."

You stare at him stunned. He was never the type to do this—sweet, thoughtful things. No, that was too corny for him. And yet he had. He'd gotten two of the same pendant. One for you, and one for himself.

Maybe to add to his own chain. Maybe to turn into a charm for his keyring.

Either way, it meant something. And you knew it.

"Nam-gyuuu," you press, all discretion gone as you cuddled up to his side. You watch his jaw clench as you rub his side, all smiley and starry-eyed. "You wanted us to match?"

"Okay. Shut up." He's tensing up, leaning away from you as he leans into the armrest, but you know for sure that it's all an act now. The plushie at your side and the necklace gleaming on the coffee table was enough proof of that.

But you can't. You can't stop staring at him, at the way his fingers dig into his knee like he's resisting the urge to snatch the whole damn box back from you. He's sulking like a kid caught red-handed.

Your grin widens, head going loopy with love. "Ohhh my goodness," you say, voice dripping with amusement, "you're so cute, Nam-gyu."

His head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing as he finally makes eye contact with you, but there's a color to his face that wasn't there earlier. "Don't start."

But you do start. You lean in, resting your chin on his shoulder, batting your eyelashes at him. "You wanted us to have matching charms? So that even when we're apart, we'll always have a little piece of each other?"

Nam-gyu gorans, tipping his head back against the couch. "Shut the fuck up." But there's no venom in it, not even a drop. Something tells you he might even be enjoying this, in his own way.

"It's like a promise, isn't it?" You sigh dreamily, pushing through the excitement in your chest, but also because you can't help but relish the way he squirms under the attention. "A silent vow that no matter where we go, we'll always be connected. Like two stars floating through space, spinning in a galactic embrace of eternal love—"

"I'm gonna kill myself," he mutters, rubbing his temples. The movie drones on in the background, completely ignored.

You laugh, finally letting up as you nudge him with your shoulder. "You're so romantic," you coo. "Who knew you had such a soft heart under that shitty attitude of yours?"

"I will throw you out that fucking window," he threatens, but it's weak. His ears are red, so red, and he won't meet your gaze.

You let the moment linger, then tilt your head, lowering your voice to something softer. "Thank you," you say, genuine this time. "I love it."

Nam-gyu scoffs, but his knee starts bouncing again. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

But later that night, when you finally slip the necklace on, the bunny plushie sitting gingerly in your lap, you catch him staring.

When you lay down next to Nam-gyu, there's something between you two. Something charged, electric. You don't say anything, but you know it's coming.

When his hand drifts over to you, lingers on your waist, you let it.

Then he's on top of you. His weight presses you into the bed, and you stare back up at him. His touch is soft, gentle, as he brushes the hair away from your face, from your neck. The necklace he bought you is cool against your skin. He stares at it again, touching it gingerly and turning it over in his fingers.

Your breath catches, and then he's leaning down, pressing a kiss to your lips. It's gentle, soft.

It's not like him at all.

That night, it's like a race. Except there’s only one pedestal, and it's a spot reserved just for you. So he's grunting, biting down on his lip as he presses his fingers into the dip of your waist, pushing you closer and closer to the finish line. There’s a ghost of his breath on your neck, a graze of teeth at your collar bone, something sickeningly sweet in your ears— something you likely wouldn't be hearing tomorrow.

Then, you reach the edge, and he’s staring in your eyes, gripping your chin so you can’t look away. He dips low and smashes his lips onto yours. The ribbon snaps, and you tip over, breath being ripped from your lungs as you gasp, sighing his name like it's a prayer.

It's been a couple minutes since he'd rolled over, your skin still slick with sweat as you continue to catch your breath, heart drumming steadily beneath your skin.

His hand is heavy on your waist, his breathing steady. He was practically half-asleep already once he'd finished.

"Fine," you breathe into the silence, eyelids growing heavy as you swallow. You push your hair out of your face and roll over to cuddle into his side. Defeat. "I forgive you."

Nam-gyu, even in his exhausted state, smirks weakly in the dark. He slowly turns to press his face into you, rubbing slow, possessive circles into your skin.

He feigns ignorance as he smiles against your hair, because accepting your forgiveness would be an admission of guilt, and he couldn't— wouldn't do that.

"For what?"

© to @namgyunation on tumblr; do not repost

ao3 link, if you'd prefer to read it over there

a/n: omggg i had so much fun writing this! obviously, a lot of this is my interpretation / speculation of how he'd act 'normally', so when he's not crazy hopped up on drugs and locked up in a life or death situation, but hopefully it's somewhat believable. i'm like rushing to get all my writing out before season 3 potentially crushes all my hopes and dreams and imagination and/or my motivation leaaves me haha. although school's still been kicking my ass, as always please feel free to send me any thoughts / suggestions in my inbox <3 i'm in this shit for the long haul, y'all.

[ablobwhowrites]

I have been hooked on your poppy playtime new home sweet home posts and I love them, they are great!! and I was thinking, maybe one where y/n repairs some toys in very bad condition? Like when you mentioned Miss Delight's face! Only if you want and can of course. <3

(also sorry if this is not very well written, English is not my first language and I am using Google translator)

(glad you liked them and plus it helps me kinda try and write my next fic and hopefully I'm cooking with it)

Y/n has repaired the toys and even had to learn how to stitch because most are fabric but bougie bot, miss delight, doey and mommy long legs are kinda hard to repair, so y/n has to look up how to repair the certain material needed for each toy. Miss delight is a bit more patient with being repaired as this goes for mommy and doey but boogie bot, bunzo, huggy, yarnaby are kinda impatient as they move around a lot and don’t really like sitting on one play and bubba is a kinda like smartass when y/n tries to do stitching to repair his arm and he’s like “you shouldn’t use that stitch, use this one instead” and y/n is like half way done with it when he says that but y/n just finishes it and moves on.

Plus I do imagine y/n going to their grandma to ask if she could make some blankets for the toys as they don't have a lot of spare blankets. Especially when crafty corn, hoppy hopscotch took most of the blankets to make their fort. Y/n's grandma agrees and makes huge blankets like ones that doey could basically be laying down and there would still be a lot of blanket left over kinda huge and of course the smiling critters get one and hoppy uses it for the pillow fort and yarnaby as well.

Y/n's bed does not belong to y/n anymore cause everytime they get home, yarnaby is sleeping on it and take up all the bed and even when there's some there's very little because like yarnaby is fucking huge. But the blanket is bigger than him somehow.

And sometimes the toys have nightmares about killing y/n. Like in when they were in playtime co and how violent they were to y/n and basically almost killing them in brutal ways. Like the dream goes as this, they chase y/n and when getting their hands on y/n killing but the bloodlust settles as they look at the corpse of y/n and realizing what they did try to fix it. Or think it's a prank but it continues until the you jolts awake seeing the room they are in and see y/n alive. All it was a nightmare, they are safe here. Except for Sawyer, he has dreams of being a regular human so yeah. But poor doey was scared that the nightmare was real and poor guy needed a hug after cause he feels guilty even though it was just a dream.

(Anyways that's it for me yapping. If you guys like this and want more please don't feel shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n's, but for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[darnell-la]

𝗗𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥 ... 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗔𝗪𝗔𝗬

pairing: dark!pervy!professor!logan howlett x student!reader

summary: the job of a mentor shouldn’t be hard, but for Logan Howlett, it was when one of his best students wasn’t so innocent after all. professors are trained to hold themselves, but something within Logan wanted to release all out on that so-called innocent student.

warnings: Logan is a slight perv, nudes, anal, forced anal, rough sex, age gap, overpowering, degrading, jealousy, anger, cnc/SA, etc.

note: many of our supporters are asking for out-of-pocket Logan Howlett, and it’s so hard finding ways to write him in that way. REQUEST!

DO NOT READ IF CNC/SA MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!

———

There has been a situation going on around the school. Some kids have made a hook-up app for mutants around the school. The professor found out after having to confiscate a student's phone for texting during class.

Professor Howlett has been investing, and trying to get several student's names to call the office and shut the app down.

By doing that, he used the student phone he had to take during class. Sadly, that student wasn’t a student people wanted to hook up with, or even go on a date with. Logan had no luck until a few minutes ago when an anonymous student messaged him.

“Hey, I know it’s hard to find people on here, but I was thinking we could maybe hang out?”

Logan couldn't stop laughing to himself, happy that he could put this shenanigan situation to the side until several attachments popped up on the phone.

At first, he didn’t think of anything, but as soon as he tapped on them to reveal what was sent, his jaw dropped.

The student was y/n, and the attachments she sent were something he would’ve never thought of her doing. Half of what was sent were videos while the rest was her masturbating with toys.

A specific one had stood out to him, which made him feel like the biggest creep there could be, but he couldn’t stop watching.

She had laid on her back so when she spread her legs, everything was exposed. She rubbed so much lube onto herself, that he was confused until she pulled a dildo out and pushed it against her back door.

The way she moaned, made him lost in the video. He hadn’t even known the video was five minutes long. He could tell she could barely take it up her ass, but the way she struggled and still tried was amazing. Especially when she finished all over the place.

“I’ve never done anal, so I’m afraid that’s off-limits. Anything else is completely fine though!”

Logan looked at her message, still thinking if that was all real. Was that really y/n? If this was anyone else, he would’ve called a school meeting in seconds, no matter how late it was, but y/n — He didn’t know what took over him.

“Send room number. Be there in 5. Look pretty,”

In y/n’s head, she thought how oddly the student typed. She hadn’t been around the student to know him fully, but she knew no student typed the way he did.

“Could I perhaps have some videos of you?” Y/n asked, making Logan’s heart skip a beat. “No need, Bub. I’m real,” Logan typed, making y/n gasp. Anyone could’ve figured out who the person was behind the phone after using that word. Bub.

“Logan? What the hell are you doing on here??” Y/n asked, only making Logan’s heart drop further. “What?” Logan tried covering himself off, but that only made y/n laugh on her bed.

“It’s fine, Logan. I like older men anyway. Have you done anything like this before?” Y/n asked. Logan wanted to throw the phone and spazz on how he could’ve blown his cover this bad.

“No,” the man replied, not knowing his cock had grown hard at the thought of y/n still wanting to proceed with the conversation. “Just come up to room 411,” Y/n said before going offline.

Logan had thought this would be easy to deal with since y/n never seemed like a student to blackmail people, but something ran through his head as he got up from his office chair.

How many people has she done this with? That thought alone boiled his blood. He had thought y/n was innocent, and one of the good students. She lied to him, telling him a few months ago that all she cared about was her training and education.

Y/n had fallen asleep after the first hour of Logan not showing up. She had thought he had maybe backed out, and she was fine with that.

Little did she know, Logan had been keeping himself back for the past hour. Everyone in this school is still training, even the professors, and though they can usually control themselves, this was a small situation that turned big.

Logan was mentally and physically going insane, wanting to teach a student he had trust in, a lesson for lying and doing this that wouldn’t help her training and education in the future.

He held himself back for as long as he could, but now he was walking through y/n’s bedroom door. Y/n had woken up from her sleep after hearing her bedroom door close and lock.

“Oh, hey! — I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you might’ve changed your mind,” y/n said as Logan basically ripped off his clothes until he was exposed. Y/n’s eyes widened at his huge and throbbing size.

“Where’s the lube?” Logan growled as he stared y/n’s figure down. She had fallen asleep in the little bit of clothing she wanted to surprise him in. “Uh, the desk right here, but, I’m not really into anal,” y/n assured for the second time tonight.

Logan ignored her and went through the desk she had pointed out to him. “On your stomach — Edge of the bed,” Logan said. He had barely given her time to move before he put her into the position himself.

“Sir, just my pussy, okay? I-I didn’t really prepare for anal tonight,” y/n said, hoping her professor would listen. Instead, Logan spread a bunch on her upper hole, and the rest he stroked his cock with.

“Okay, sir?” Y/n asked to know if he heard her. He did, but he didn’t care. Why would she tease him with that one video if she wasn’t thinking about her hole getting used tonight?

“Mr. Howlett, I said the other-“Y/n tried to get up, but Logan pushed her face into the sheets as his cock pushed through her walls, instantly feeling her grip him as tight as she could.

“Oh fuck,” Logan couldn’t believe how amazing she felt within seconds. “Mr. Howlett, please — I-It hurts a little,” y/n whined, shifting under him to feel more comfortable, but that didn’t matter as he pushed further into her until she was filled.

The scream she let out, was enough to make him leak in her already. “Be as loud as you want, Bub. Hank designed these walls for the privacy of the professors and the students — No one’s gonna hear how un-innocent you are,” Logan whispered in the young girl's ear before he leaned back up and began pounding.

The room filled with nasty noises in seconds. Logan couldn’t seem to get enough of what he was doing. It’s like something took him over once he felt the insides of y/n and the noises she could make.

“Logan, please,” y/n cried out, feeling like he would break her any second now. At first, she hated the way he didn’t listen to her, but after the first few pumps, she couldn’t get enough of it herself.

The feeling of her the Wolverine coming in her to have his way with her, degrade her, and even groan at how perfect she was, only send her gushing around his cock in seconds.

“You’re not so innocent, princess, so how about you cum on my cock again, yeah? Because this ain’t gonna be the last time I have you,”

[organic-bloodbath]

Knife Princess

Chishiya x Reader

Summary: You're Niragi's little sister, and he's not happy of Chishiya's interest on you. When the final game starts and you get hurt, Chishiya takes care of you.

Warnings: 18+ smut, lots of blood ig.

A/N: I was writing a Chishiya request but realised half way i needed to write a prequel for that first lmao. So, this will have more parts coming up ✨️

♤♡♧◇

During your time at the Beach, Chishiya became intrigued by you. He analyzed your movements when you weren't watching - atleast he thought you didn't notice him.

He could see that men eyed you while you were laying by the pool in your bikinis, but nobody dared to approach you. Everyone knew you were Niragi's sister and that terrified the shit out of them.

Why? Because Niragi seemed to be a little overprotective of you. If he could see even one pair of male eyes thirsting over you, Niragi wouldn't hesitate to beat them up. People here had seen that happen several times. Some men thought they'd get away with a little bit of flirting, but Niragi seemed to have eyes everywhere at any times.

One day, Chishiya watched you, sitting by the edge of the pool once again in your yellow bikinis, legs tangling in the water to cool yourself down. You were enjoying the sun, black sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose. You weren't aware of his gaze, you had no idea how his eyes lingered on your skin. Atleast, that's what he thought.

Chishiya turned around just for a moment to leave, and suddenly you had appeared right behind him.

"You like what you see, hm?" you asked and put your hands on your hips. Chishiya stayed silent, an amused look on his face as he turned around to face you. "I've seen you looking at me, you know," you smirked and bit your lip. "You're not as sneaky as you think you are."

"Is that so?" Chishiya hummed.

"Mhm. A lady like me has grown eyes on her back too," you said proudly.

"I see," Chishiya said, intrigued once more. "So, tell me. Why do you wear boots at the pool?"

Chishiya had noticed that you always had the same leather boots on, while most people wore sandals or were just bare foot.

You only smiled and tilted your head, slowly stepping closer to him so you could reach to put your hands on his shoulders. You leaned so close to his face that you were only inches away from him, and he could feel your minty breath when you whispered: "You'll have to take them off and find out."

And then, only with a smile and a wink you let go of him and turned around, leaving him to stand there by himself to go back inside.

Chishiya wasn't sure if he only imagined it, but it felt like you swayed your hips more dramatically than usual as you knew that he would watch you walking away. If your plan was to not let Chishiya's eyes leave your body - you succeeded with that.

"Careful," Kuina said next to Chishiya. "Don't let Niragi see that you were checking his sister out."

"I wasn't checking her out," Chishiya denied, but he knew that it was a lie. He knew that he'd be dead if Niragi found out even about his thoughts on you, but Chishiya also knew that you were a woman with your own choices.

"Mhm, whatever you say," Kuina said, a hint of worry in her voice.

♤♡♧◇

After your short talk by the pool, it took only two more days to get Chishiya to take you into his bedroom and push you on his bed.

You knew that with right words, you could get any man that you wanted. Not every man could be seduced with the same methods, however, so you needed a little time to calculate what kind of person you were dealing with. You let men flirt with you here, even though you didn't plan to actually do anything with them, but you knew it pissed off Niragi and you enjoyed that.

Of course you wouldn't sleep with everyone here, though, you did have quite high standards and a specific taste and none of the men at the Beach had raised your curiosity enough.

Until you met Chishiya. He stood out from the crowd, usually staying mostly by himself or with a limited one to two people. You wanted to get to know him. No, you needed to get to know him. Maybe not emotionally yet, but atleast physically.

Truthfully, you hadn't had sex in months, you needed it much more than you had thought. Chishiya sucked all the stress and worry off you with his touch which gave you pleasure, even if it was only for a moment.

Right now, Chishiya had you pinned on the bed under him, holding your hands above your head and planting kisses around your neck and collarbones. You didn't know how he managed to find all the sweet spots which made you go insane already on your first time together, but he did nevertheless.

He untied the top of your bikini and threw it away, not caring where it would land. He took off his shirt as well to stay fair with you.

He peppered kisses all around your body as he slowly crawled back, until his head was located between your legs. He pulled the bottom of your bikini off, seeing now every part of your body. It didn't take long for him to rub your clit and push his fingers inside, starting to explore your vagina with different movements.

"Oh, fuck," you gasped. He moved his hand away for a moment but you quickly stopped him by grabbing his hair. "Wait, can you- can you do that again?"

Chishiya smirked. "Do what again?" he asked. "This?"

You arched your back as Chishiya pushed his fingers back inside you, curling his fingers just in the right angle like he had done earlier. You had to grab the bedsheets into your fists to stay still.

When he pushed himself inside you, you felt like this was what you had needed the most during your time at the Beach. During all the games.

Sleeping with him was something you felt like you had needed for years. He was the perfect balance of both rough and gentle in the best way possible to give you pleasure in its highest form.

You had no idea how much time passed while you were trapped between his body and the mattress, you were in complete ecstasy and you never wanted him stop what he was doing.

You were sure your body would be full of marks he had created on your body and you'd have to show it off to everyone, but right now, right at that moment, you didn't care about anything besides you and him.

♤♡♧◇

"What's that?" Niragi asked next morning and stepped closer to you, looking at the bruises on your neck, trying to hide themselves behind you hair. He grabbed your hair and yanked it back to see your neck better. "Are those hickeys? Who made those?"

"What is it for you?" you spat. "You can do whatever you want with whoever and so can i."

Niragi narrowed his eyes for your attitude.

"Who," Niragi growled with a low voice, finger pressing on one of the many bruises, his dark eyes directly on yours, "made that?"

You just grinned smugly.

"Try to guess," you challenged him.

♤♡♧◇

"You fucked my sister?!" Niragi shouted louder than ever before. Chishiya jumped back when he saw Niragi storming towards him, pointing his rifle towards Chishiya.

"Well, to my defense, she came to me," he said, lifting his hands up to surrender and trying to ignore the rifle, inches from his face.

"Out of all the girls here, dozens of them, you just had to choose her?!"

"Niragi, we're-"

Niragi put his gun down and instead grabbed Chishiya by his shirt and slammed him against the wall. Chishiya winced a little when the back of his head hit hard on the wall but otherwise he kept his regular pokerface.

"What should i do with you now, hm?" Niragi asked. "Shoot you dead right here right now or take a knife and carve little marks on your skin before shooting you. Any last wishes?"

He took a knife from his pocket, pressing the tip against Chishiya's cheek, a little too close to his left eye.

"Did you want to get a revenge on me? I thought we were buddies, man."

"Listen," Chishiya chuckled nervously in Niragi's tight grip. "Just let me down and we'll-"

"I know she's pretty, obviously, it's in our genes," Niragi interrupted, not caring to listen to Chishiya's defense. "But atleast talk about it before to me, man. Don't just go and screw her like that."

"So, if i had asked you for your blessing to sleep with your sister, you would have been okay with that?"

The anger rose back to Niragi's eyes. Chishiya was basically throwing more fuel into the fire flaming inside Niragi.

"Niragi, what are you doing?" you shouted from the end of the hallway before Niragi would be able go put a bullet in Chishiya's skull, walking towards the two guys with long steps. "Let go of him this instant."

"Or what?" Niragi asked. "You'll stab me over this guy?"

"If i have to," you said and crossed your arms against your chest.

"You can't be serious-"

You pulled a knife from your boot and pointed it at him.

"Let. Him. Down." You gritted your teeth, the same kind of anger in your eyes as in Niragi's. "Or you'll lose an ear."

Niragi huffed and let Chishiya go, coming towards you.

"Seriously, Y/N?" he whispered to you. "Him?"

"Mind your own damn business," you spat.

Eventually, Niragi left, but he wasn't in a good mood. At all. You hadn't seen him that angry in a while. You didn't lash out at him like that because he was threatening specifically Chishiya, no. You were just tired of Niragi constantly meddling into your business with men over and over again. Whenever you'd have a single hickey on your neck, and Niragi saw that, he'd immediately lose his temper for someone touching you - as witnessed here. It had been the exact same back at home before ending up to this world, but back then he only had his fists and not a gun. You had tried to make him quit it so many times but he wasn't having it.

You let out a frustrated groan, and Chishiya walked towards you now that Niragi had disappeared.

"So, you always carry knives with you wherever you go?" Chishiya asked, hands in the pockets of his white hoodie and an amused smirk on his face. "That's why you wear boots even with a swimsuit?"

"Shouldn't everyone carry a weapon with them?" you asked seriously, raising an eyebrow. "You never know when you need to defend yourself."

"Fair," Chishiya admitted.

You stepped right in front of Chishiya and put your hand behind his neck, slowly caressing his shoulder.

"Want to have a round two in my room tonight?" you asked, clicking your tongue.

"I'm not sure if i want to lose my right eye for that," Chishiya smirked, still feeling the cold blade against his cheek.

"Niragi's not the boss of me," you said and rolled your eyes. "I'm not some little kid that needs to be protected."

"Oh i can definitely see that," Chishiya agreed and nodded.

"So, my room tonight." You put your finger on hips lips. "Don't make me wait too long, hm?"

♤♡♧◇

The fire was flaming high outside, waiting for corpses to be thrown in there.

When the 10 of Hearts game started and Aguni's men were slaughtering people left and right, you only sat back and watched the shitshow. You knew Niragi would never allow anyone to touch you so you weren't afraid of being accused of being the witch and getting thrown into the fire.

That was, as long as he was there to witness it, and right now he wasn't. Still, you didn't stress about the game nearly as much as the others there.

You had no idea what Chishiya and others were doing, but right now you really, really just craved for a snack and was heading towards your room.

However, before you managed to get any further, someone grabbed you by your hair and yanked you towards them, causing you to let out a small cry for the pain on your scalp.

"Ha! Maybe she's the witch!" a man, who you didn't know at all, shouted at your face, spit flying on your cheekbone. "Let's burn her!"

One more guy joined him to drag you towards the place where the fire was located. But they weren't able to get very far.

You managed to get free yourself from their grip, then reached for your boots and took the two knives out of them. You didn't hesitate a moment longer as you threw the knives towards the two men, the blades digging deep into the men's necks.

You had practiced throwing knives for the past decade - as a nice little hobby of yours.

The men fell on their knees, and you kicked them on their chest, causing them to fall on their backs. You leaned down to remove the knives from their throats, leaving them to bleed out on the carpet. You wiped the blood on the men's shirts, then putting the knives back into your boots and continued your way towards you room.

As you walked through the corridor, you didn't notice two pairs of eyes watching you behind a corner.

"Well, i sure wouldn't want to anger her," Kuina mumbled. She was in shock how such a small girl was able to take down two grown men at that speed.

"She managed to surprise me too," Chishiya admitted, arms crossed on his chest. And very few people did surprise him anymore, both Kuina and Chishiya himself knew that. "Although, she's related to Niragi, so i don't know if i should have been surprised."

♤♡♧◇

A little later, you were leaning against one of the pillars on the 3rd floor, watching Aguni beat up Arisu with all his strength. You felt another presence join you, but you didn't need to turn your head to see who it was.

"Enjoying the show?" Chishiya asked.

"It's like watching a violent theatre play with real blood."

"Mhm," Chishiya hummed. "Hearts games are brutal but this is definitely something else."

"It's kind of entertaining how insane people can go during the Hearts games," you commented and turned your head towards Chishiya. "Did you ever suspect me as the witch?"

Chishiya eyed you for a moment.

"You could have pulled it off," he admitted. "With those knives and all."

"Aw, i'm touched," you smiled, hand on your chest. "If i was proven to be the witch, would you have been able to burn me in the fire?"

"Well," Chishiya started slowly and turned his face back to the crowd downstairs. "Everyone just wants to survive and get out of here, right?"

You didn't say anything back, only followed the events happening two floors down.

After everything had finally started to calm down, the fire suddenly spread and Niragi stepped inside, looking like he had been thrown into the fire too but got out before turning into complete ash.

"Oh, shit," you mumbled.

Niragi started to shoot in every direction possible with his rifle, not caring who he hit with the bullets. He wanted everyone here to die, that was for sure. He shot not only vertically everywhere, also up in different angles.

That meant, also right into your direction. Chishiya pulled you back, but just a second too late. You felt burning pain on your right shoulder and right after your leg, blood starting to pour out of the wounds. You stumbled backwards, but Chishiya managed to catch you and held you up by your waist.

His eyes widened when he saw your shoulder being painted red, as well as your leg.

"This just isn't my day, is it?" you chuckled, trying to ignore the pain radiating through your arm and make fun of the situation.

Chishiya didn't have much time to start patching you up right now, you had to leave this place as soon as possible to get to safety.

"Wait a moment, i'll be right back," he said and left you there on your own for a moment, running to the room where you had previously been. For a minute you were afraid he had actually left you here to bleed out, not wanting to deal with your injuries.

Chishiya grabbed a first aid kid, towel and brought them with him as he hurried back to you as fast as he was possibly able to run.

"Hold these," he said and gave you the kit and the towel, then scooping you in his arms. He knew he couldn't run very fast carrying you, but it would be faster than dragging you by his side.

It didn't take too long for people to burn the witch and finish the game just before the time would run down to zero. You had finally passed the last game.

As you sat outside and watched the mansion burn down among all the other survivors, Chishiya was by your side sewing the bullet wound shut with a needle and thread. The bullet had exited your body on the back, so Chishiya was more than thankful that he wouldn't need to start operating on you any deeper.

You had started to look pale and feel dizzy for all the blood loss, but you managed to stay conscious. He had wrapped the towel tightly around your leg. It had been white, but was now dyed half red.

"Shiya..." you mumbled, but he didn't lift his face towards you, only concentrated on stitching you up. "I promise i'm not getting hurt on purpose just to get you to touch me."

Your words did amuse Chishiya and you could see a slight smirk on his face.

"Good, because i don't have any more supplies to left to treat your wounds," Chishiya said and cut the thread off, leaving you with clean stitches on your skin. He finally looked into your eyes, looking serious and worried. "Let me know immediately if the stitches open and you start bleeding again, got it?"

"Are you like a doctor or something?" you smiled and bit your lip.

"Something like that," he answered, and you could see a little smile on his lips as well.

"I've never slept with a doctor before," you admitted. "Before the Beach, i mean."

"Was it on your to-do list?"

"Might have been," you said. "Along with a firefighter, of course."

"Too bad we didn't have firefighters at the Beach," Chishiya concluded. "Would have saved us a lot of trouble. Or if there was, they clearly failed their job miserably."

"Perhaps," you said slowly. "I would have still chosen a doctor first though."

"Hm, really?" Chishiya wondered. "Good to know. So, your type is men who can save you from trouble?"

"I'm not a damsel in distress," you scoffed, coming off as offended and a bit too defensive.

"And still i did have to carry you out of there," Chishiya pointed out.

"Shut up," you said and gently hit him on his shoulder.

"You'll promise to take it slow with your arm and leg, okay?" he stated seriously.

"Of course, doctor," you teased and bit your lip. "How can i ever repay you for taking such a good care of me?"

"I have a few things in my mind, but i think we should go somewhere private first," Chishiya reminded and sat next to you, putting his hand around your waist for a moment.

"Why aren't we already leaving then?" you asked and brushed your finger against his collarbone, right by the zipper of his hoodie.

"Tempting, but i'd rather have you rest for a moment," Chishiya said and pulled you tighter against his body, whispering right into your ear: "But don't worry, i'll make sure to find us some time alone."

His hot breath against your ear sent chills down your spine.

♤♡♧◇

A/N: I'll have update for the Child of Hearts too at some point no worries, just have to figure out some scenes for it and shape it a lil bit 🫶🏻

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Speak up

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @outof-spite and Anonymous (+ @ whoever I swear left me a vampire request that I think I lost, hopefully you know who you are)

Synopsis: You barely talk, and never raise your voice . . . So the boys are in for a surprise during a hunt

“Could you speak up?”

Dean watched you flounder for a moment after the waiter’s demand spilled out. You managed to stutter a few—still mumbled—words, but nothing the waiter would understand.

“She said she wanted the burger,” Dean spoke up for you. “No pickles.”

You squirmed sheepishly in your seat as the waiter walked away, but Dean was unfazed.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean shook his head. He was used to your soft voice, and he’d been speaking for you since you learned to talk. “I got you.”

…

“Last one,” Sam said to Dean as he tied off the last stitch in Dean’s arm. “Finished.”

“About dang time,” Dean grumbled, rubbing his arm.

“And if you pull at them, I’m gonna have to do it again,” Sam chided. He turned suddenly when you tugged on his arm. “Yeah?”

You held onto his sleeve with one hand, holding your other one up for him to see. It was now that he noticed your wrist twisted at an odd angle.

“Jeez, kid,” Dean hissed, looking over Sam’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You just shrugged, and Sam shook his head.

“Ok, alright, just keep your arm still, ok?” Sam took your hand in his, putting his other hand on your arm to keep it still. Sam met Dean’s eye for a split second before looking back at you. “Ready? One—“

“Boo!” Dean’s outburst interrupted Sam’s counting, catching your attention just as Sam twisted your wrist back into position.

You let out a sound that was half laugh and half whimper, but it was hardly louder than the sound of the wind outside.

“You ok?” Sam asked softly. You nodded, burrowing into his side while you cradled your wrist.

“You’re a tough kid,” Dean told you, ruffling your hair. You offered him a small smile, but no words.

The boys were used to your quiet nature, so it rarely concerned them. This felt a little different to Sam.

“Hey, you gotta let us know when you’re hurt, ok?”

“I did,” you mumbled. “I just wanted you to fix De up first.”

“Don’t do that,” Dean cut in. “I want you fixed up first, every time.”

But you didn’t answer him, and Sam knew this would be something you and Dean would both be stubborn about.

…

“Sam, take the front with me. Y/N, you can go around the back.”

“You…you want her going alone?” Sam asked.

“There are big windows in the back, it’s brighter. The vampires won’t be back there, she’s going in as backup.” Dean’s eyes met yours. “You up for a little solo trip, kid?”

You hefted your machete and gave Dean a firm nod.

He grinned. “That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”

…

You slipped around the side of the run-down home, surprised to see boards nailed up over the windows in the back. You hesitated, wondering if you should go get Dean—obviously the vampires would be free to roam the back of the house with the windows boarded up—but you decided against it. Dean had given you this task, and you wouldn’t let a few pieces of wood stop you.

…

Dean was surprised at how few vampires he and Sam encountered in the front of the house. They were met instantly by three, and it was quick and easy work lobbing off their heads.

“I thought there’d be more,” Sam admitted. “Do you think—“

The shriek that echoed through the little shack would haunt Dean for the rest of his life. It was so jarring that he froze on the spot, his eyes seeking out Sam’s in the gloom.

“Was that—that was—“ Sam’s voice broke, and he followed his big brother as Dean kicked open the door to the back room and ran in, machete clenched tightly in his fist. The room he’d busted into was empty, and Dean looked frantically around for another door.

“Dean!” The scream was so foreign that for the second time, Dean was struggling to place it as you. Never, on a hunt or during a scary movie or in a fit of anger or—or anything—had Dean heard you yell like that, or at all. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard you speak higher than a soft murmur.

“Dean—“ Sam’s frantic voice snatched Dean’s attention, and he turned to see Sam shoving open a door at the far side of the room. “It came from this way.”

But through the door was a hallway that split two ways, and the brothers could no longer hear your screams to guide their way.

With a simple gesture nod of his chin, Dean relaid a plan to Sam; Dean would go one way, Sam the other.

Dean stalked down the hallway, his heart hammering in his ears and his machete gripped in his sweaty palms. He passed room after room, but there was no sign of you or the vamps.

“Dean!” Unlike when you screamed, Dean recognized Sam’s cry for help immediately. He turned on his heal, dashing for where he last saw his brother.

“Sam!” Dean rounded the corner, but there was no one in sight. “No no no no—“ Dean growled, rushing out the back door into the fresh air. A car was already speeding down the dirt road—the vampires must have braved the sun in order to take their hostages away. Dean rushed around to the front of the house and threw himself into the Impala. The tires crunched on the road as Dean slammed the car into reverse and twisted it around, swerving around the house and following down the dirt road that the vampires had disappeared down with his siblings.

“Cas,” Dean spit out as he drove. “Cas, things are really going bad down here. We could use some backup.”

…

“Sam? Sa-Sammy?”

Sam awoke to a pounding headache and to your quiet voice stuttering his name.

“The big one’s awake!” A grating voice made Sam cringe as he opened his eyes and squinted in the dim light. Course ropes bound his wrists, and he felt hard concrete under him as he shifted until his eyes finally fell on you.

“Sammy?” You were a whimpering mess, curled in on yourself with tears streaming down your face and blood matting your hair to your neck, which was stained red and still bleeding.

“Hey—“ Sam forced himself to sit up, mentally doing a wellness check; it didn’t feel like he’d been bitten, and the only thing that hurt was his head for when one of the cowardly monsters had snuck up behind him and knocked him out. “Hey, are you ok?” He asked you.

“I’m—I’m—“

“Oh she’s fine.” A vampire sauntered over to the two of you, flashing a mouthful of razor sharp teeth that were stained red. “I just had a little snack while you were asleep,” he added, stepping closer to you.

You were cringing away from the monster, your pale body shuddering.

“Get away from her!” Sam snapped.

The vampire ignored Sam, lifting you by the front of your shirt and lowering his head to your neck.

Sam tried to throw himself at the vamp to stop him, but the rest of the nest had come to watch, and one of them grabbed onto Sam to stop him.

“Stop! Leave her alone, don’t hurt her!” Sam could do nothing but protest as the vampire fed off his little sister. For the first time, he noticed the other bite marks on you—more than one vamp had fed on you while he was unconscious. It wasn’t just your neck, either; Sam saw bites all along your shoulder, blood marks on your stomach, and a ripped and bloody mess at your thigh. Sam felt his stomach lurch at the image of half a dozen vampires feeding on you, their fangs ripping up your skin and their monster hands all over you.

He wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“You’re gonna kill her!” Sam yelled. When no one paid him any mind, he head butted the vamp that was holding him in place, giving him a moment of freedom that he knew he’d have to use wisely. With his hands tied, his options were limited, so he followed his instincts and threw himself in front of you, knocking the vampire that had been feeding on you to the ground.

It was a good plan—Sam was now able to be between the vampires and you, giving him a moment to reason with them while you weren’t in as much danger.

“Keep her alive and-and you’ll have an unlimited supply,” Sam babbled, grasping for any possible argument to save you. He’d glanced back long enough to see you, ghostly pale and trembling, looking like you barely had life left in you. “But if you take anymore of her blood now you’re gonna kill her.”

The vampire wiped your blood off his chin, a sickening grin on his face.

“That’s all well and fine.” He chuckled. “Except we haven’t eaten in days, so we’re not too worried about conserving our supply.”

“Then—“ Sam swallowed. He could hear your ragged breathing behind him and feel your tiny hand on his arm, tugging at his jacket like you wanted to stop him from what you knew was coming. “Then feed on me. Not her.”

“Sammy.” Your tiny voice cracked as you tugged at your brother’s arm. Sam turned around to face you, effectively blocking you from seeing the vampires behind him.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he promised, brushing your blood-soaked hair away from your face. “You’re gonna be ok.” He leaned forward, kissing the side of your head so he could whisper— “Dean’s gonna find you, you’re gonna be ok.”

“Don’t—don’t—“ you choked, gripping Sam’s hands in a vice grip.

“I gotta protect you,” Sam said, a smile reaching his lips despite the terror in his eyes as the vampires grabbed onto his shoulders and yanked him away from you. “That’s what big brothers do, kid.”

You tried to go to him, but one of the vampires held you back, tying you to the leg of a desk next to you while the others forced Sam to his knees.

“It’s ok, it’s gonna be ok,” Sam repeated even while he grimaced as a vampire but into his neck.

You started screaming when Sam’s eyes fluttered closed, the blood draining from his face as he swayed on his knees.

“No! Stop, no!”

…

Once again the harrowing sound of your shrieking froze Dean in his tracks, and even Castiel’s step faltered.

“It—I—this way.” Dean shook off his fear as he led the way towards the sound of your voice.

…

Sam’s head was starting to droop, his breathing labored, when the door swung open, slamming into the wall with a deafening crash.

Dean and Cas burst in, wasting no time in taking out the first vampires that dared to get too close to them.

The vamps nearest to you and Sam forgot you instantly, rushing to attack the two new threats.

They’d been relieved of their heads before they’d gotten one swing into the fight.

Dean rushed to check on Sam, dropping to his knees to untie him while Cas went to you. Once your hands were free, Cas went to heal the obvious injuries he could see across your skin, but you were dashing away from him before he got the chance.

“Sam!” Your voice echoed around the concrete walls, and the pain and desperation Dean heard in it knocked him back on his heels.

Sam groggily lifted his head just in time to see you running into his arms. You slammed into him, and Sam held you in a death grip to him, rocking you back and forth.

“It’s ok,” he promised. “We’re ok.”

“I love you,” you whispered.

Sam knew right then that he’d rather have to decipher your mumbling for a million people than have to hear you scream in pain and fear again. He knew right then that your quiet whispers were the best sound he’d ever heard.

“I love you too,” he whispered again, words only for your ears.

“I need to heal you,” Castiel spoke up, breaking the two of you apart.

“Sammy first.” Sam barely heard your voice as you made your request to the angel.

“What did you say?” Cas asked. Instead of answering, you tugged at Cas’s hand and pushed it against Sam’s forehead, making Sam grin. Cas’s hand pulsed blue, and color returned to Sam’s face as he took a deep breath and the bite mark at his neck closed up.

“Here.” Sam shrugged his jacket off and wrapped it around you, covering the rips in your clothes before nodding to Cas to heal you. Sam saw Dean clenching his fists, and knew that his older brother had seen the bites covering your body.

“Thanks Cas,” you whispered, and Sam knew at once that Cas hadn’t heard you. Before the angel could ask, though, Sam wrapped you in his arms and mouthed to his friend—thank you.

Cas nodded, and Dean tugged at your arm.

“You ok sweetheart?” He asked. His eyes were wide and his hands were trembling, the adrenaline from hearing your screams not yet worn off.

You nodded, yet again mumbling. But Dean wasn’t impatient now—he just leaned closer and gently asked you to speak again.

“Can we go home now?” You asked. Dean grinned and tugged you into his arms.

“Yeah kiddo,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[promptedwordsmith]

I asked this request with someone else so you mayy or mayy not see the same request somewhere else. Depends on if you or the other person does write my request. It’s alright if you don’t wanna, write want you wanna to write. I just need this idea out of my system 🤣

MC is indicted that she is powerful. Good fighter, powerful evol where she can practically borrow someone else evol and the core in her heart. She much weaker for an unknown reason at the moment. But what if she wasn’t for a brief moment? 👀

What if MC physically fights the LaDS men without holding back 👀 like a scenario where a new wanderer shows up, puppets her or something, forcing the LaDS men to defend themselves. I need the angst and drama 😂 where the men are like “I don’t want to hurt you but you’re going kill me at this rate if I don’t do something.”

This keeps floating in my head, someone save me 🤣

OK soo I hope this is what you meant and it wasn't just me completely misunderstanding but the second I read this I just had to get started omg

I usually really don't like the whole "I'm going to save you by playing on our connection" trope but it suits this sort of story I think!

Caleb

The battlefield was silent. Not the kind of silence that came from peace, but the suffocating, eerie kind—the moment before the storm.

Caleb stood at the center of it, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, violet eyes locked on you. Or at least, the body that belonged to you.

But you weren’t there.

The moment the Wanderer had latched onto you, sinking its unseen claws into your mind, he’d known something was wrong. You had stiffened, your Evol flaring wildly for half a second before your entire stance changed. That was the first warning. The second had come when your gaze lifted to meet his—not with recognition, not with warmth, but with something empty.

And then you had attacked him.

His own gravity turned against him—the weight around his body fluctuating so rapidly that he nearly lost his footing. That alone had confirmed his worst fear. The Wanderer wasn’t just suppressing your will—it was using your Resonance against him.

You had stolen his Evol.

And now, he had to fight you.

But he couldn’t.

Not really. Not the way he fought others.

His hands clenched at his sides as he dodged another blast of gravitational force, feeling the way the air twisted and compressed around him. You were strong. Stronger than he had ever let himself acknowledge.

His mind was at war with itself. Every instinct screamed at him to fight back—to win—but the part of him that had spent lifetimes protecting you? That part was already losing.

Because how could he fight you, when all he wanted to do was save you?

You lunged forward, eyes still vacant, but your movements were clean, precise—yours, but also not yours. You weren’t just mimicking his power; you were enhancing it. His own gravity was being amplified, warped, turned into a weapon against him. It took everything he had to avoid the sudden shift in force, barely managing to stabilize himself before he was slammed downward with bone-crushing weight.

The ground cracked beneath him. His knees buckled.

Caleb grit his teeth.

If this had been anyone else—any other enemy—he would’ve ended this fight by now. But it wasn’t. It was you. And for the first time in his life, he was afraid.

Not of you. Never of you.

But of what he might have to do to stop this.

He tried to speak, voice raw. “You have to fight it.”

You didn’t respond.

You only lifted your hand, and the world collapsed inward.

The force struck fast—so much stronger than he expected, so much more precise. His body strained against the gravity pressing down on him, the weight overwhelming. If he had been anyone else, he would’ve been crushed.

And that’s when the realization hit him—this is what you feel.

Every time you resonate with him, every time you borrow his strength, every time you fight beside him, this is what your body endures. The sheer force of his Evol, amplified within you.

He had never really thought about it before. Never truly grasped just how much you took on when you fought at his side.

And now? Now that power was against him.

His arms trembled as he forced himself up. “I know you’re still in there.” His voice was hoarse, desperate. “I know you can hear me.”

Nothing.

His mind raced. He needed to think. He needed to find a way to reach you—not hurt you, never hurt you—but how?

His vision blurred at the edges. The gravitational pull you were using was unlike anything he had ever faced. Not even he had pushed his power to this extent before. His body screamed for relief, his Evol struggling against itself.

But then he saw it.

The slight hesitation. The way your fingers twitched—just barely, but enough.

It wasn’t the Wanderer controlling his Evol. It was you.

Somewhere inside, you were still fighting.

That was all he needed.

Caleb sucked in a sharp breath, shoving aside hesitation, pain—everything. His hands shot forward, fingers splaying wide, and for the first time in this fight—he didn’t resist your gravity.

He let it pull him in.

The instant he got close enough, he grabbed your wrist, forcing your Evol to connect with his. Forcing Resonance.

And that was all it took.

Because the moment your Evol touched his, he poured everything he had into it. Not just power. Not just control. But himself.

His memories. His thoughts. The lifetimes spent together.

The way you had always brought him back from the edge.

The way he had sworn to protect you—not just in this life, but in every life.

And then, for the first time, you hesitated.

A sharp breath escaped you, your entire body jolting as if something had just slammed into your mind. Your grip on your own power wavered—just enough for Caleb to take control.

Gravity twisted.

Not violently. Not in a way that would hurt you.

But in the way he always held you.

Steady. Unshakable. Safe.

Your body swayed, your breath stuttering, and then—then—your eyes flickered.

Your real eyes.

Not the Wanderer’s empty gaze.

Yours.

Recognition flashed across your face, confusion, panic—and then the force holding him down snapped.

Caleb barely had time to react before your legs gave out, and he caught you without hesitation, his arms wrapping around you, his Evol still steadying your weight.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Your breath was warm against his shoulder, your body trembling in his arms. He could feel your heartbeat—erratic, unsteady, but yours.

And that was all that mattered.

The fight was over.

He pressed his forehead to the side of yours, his grip tightening, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

A shaky exhale. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his uniform. “I…” Your voice was hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Caleb exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “No. Don’t.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his violet eyes burning. “You came back. That’s all that matters.”

And in that moment, he realized something—something that had been clear all along, but he had never let himself truly accept.

You weren’t just his partner.

You were his equal.

And no matter what, no matter how hard it got, he would always pull you back to him.

Rafayel

The battlefield was ablaze.

Not with fire, but with chaos.

The air was thick with smoke and embers, Rafayel’s flames flickering and dancing wildly across the ruined ground. Yet, despite the searing heat, his hands trembled. His chest ached—not from exhaustion, not from injury, but from the sheer horror of what was happening.

Because it was you standing against him.

And it wasn’t you at all.

Your eyes, usually filled with warmth, were void of emotion. Your stance, once fluid and graceful, was rigid—unnatural. The Wanderer who had taken over your body had turned your Resonance against him, amplifying his flames, twisting them, making them stronger in ways he never intended.

And now, that power was aimed at him.

A burst of fire roared toward him, faster than he could react. The heat seared his skin as he barely managed to throw himself to the side, landing hard against the dirt. His breath came out ragged as he quickly pushed himself up, his eyes locking onto you once more.

"Damn it..." he whispered, swallowing hard.

He couldn’t fight you.

But you—no, the thing inside you—had no such hesitation.

You lunged. Faster than he expected, stronger than he remembered. And maybe that was the worst part. He had always known you were powerful, but now? With your Evol fully unleashed against him, amplified in ways he never thought possible, he realized just how devastatingly strong you truly were.

And he had never feared your strength before.

Not until now.

You moved like fire itself—wild, relentless. Each attack forced him to retreat, to defend, to dodge, rather than strike back. He couldn’t. Even as his instincts screamed at him to fight, to survive, his heart refused to let him lift his hands against you.

"Come on, Rafayel," a voice that wasn’t yours taunted from your lips, hollow and mocking. "Is this really all you’ve got?"

Another wave of flames erupted toward him, this time crackling with an intensity that made his stomach twist. He barely managed to counter, his own fire surging up to meet yours, but the moment the two collided, yours consumed his completely.

His eyes widened.

His own fire.

It didn’t even stand a chance.

"Shit—"

The explosion sent him flying backward, slamming into the side of a crumbling building. He gasped, pain shooting through his ribs. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the helplessness clawing at his chest.

He had to think. Had to find a way to get through to you.

But how?

If he tried to burn the Wanderer out, he’d be burning you.

If he held back, he’d die before he got the chance to save you.

He gritted his teeth.

No. There had to be a way.

Slowly, he pushed himself up, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. His eyes locked onto you again—his love, his muse—possessed and wielded like a weapon against him.

His hands clenched into fists.

"I know you’re still in there." His voice was hoarse, desperate. "I know you can hear me."

But you didn’t answer.

The Wanderer tilted your head, smirking through your lips. "That’s sweet," they mocked. "But pointless."

And then you attacked again.

Faster. Stronger.

You disappeared in a flash of heat—only to reappear behind him. He barely turned in time to block the hit, his forearm crashing against yours. The sheer force of it made his bones rattle. Then came another, and another—strike after strike, relentless.

And Rafayel could do nothing but defend.

Not because he wasn’t strong enough.

But because he couldn’t—wouldn’t—hurt you.

Think, damn it!

The answer came in a flicker of memory.

Your Resonance.

You borrowed the power of others, but it was a two-way connection. If he could reach that part of you—if you were still in there, buried deep beneath the Wanderer’s control—then maybe, just maybe, he could pull you back.

But he had to get close.

Close enough to touch you.

Close enough to take a direct hit.

It was a gamble. A stupid, reckless gamble. But he was running out of time, and there was no way in hell he was going to lose you.

So, he let go of his defense.

Dropped his guard completely.

And when you lunged at him again, aiming straight for his heart—he didn’t move.

The moment your hand made contact with his chest, he reached out. Not with his fire. Not with his fists.

But with his Resonance.

A connection.

A tether.

Through the blinding heat, through the searing pain of your touch, he focused on you—the real you, trapped beneath layers of someone else’s will.

"Come back to me," he breathed. "Please."

For a moment—just a flicker—something changed.

Your body froze.

The grip on his chest loosened, fingers trembling against his shirt. The flames flickering in your eyes wavered—just for a second.

And in that second, he poured everything into the link between you.

Your Evol, your power, the resonance that had always bound you together. He reached for it. Pushed his own power into it. Made it something bigger, brighter, than the darkness that held you captive.

"You’re mine," he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours despite the heat. "Not theirs."

The Wanderer shrieked.

The connection between you burned.

And then—

A scream tore through the air. Your body convulsed, and suddenly, the fire turned inward.

Not his. Yours.

Flames erupted around you, swallowing your form in a wild blaze—brighter, hotter than anything he’d ever seen. And then—

Silence.

When the flames finally died, you collapsed against him, body trembling, breath coming in ragged gasps.

But your eyes—

Your eyes were yours again.

"Rafayel..." Your voice was weak, hoarse, but it was enough.

His breath hitched, arms tightening around you as he pulled you close, pressing desperate kisses to your hair, your forehead, anywhere he could reach.

"You scared the hell out of me," he whispered, voice shaking. "Don’t you ever do that again."

A weak laugh left your lips as you buried your face against his chest. "Not exactly something I planned, you know."

He let out a breathless chuckle, relief washing over him like a tidal wave.

You were back.

And he would never let you go again.

Sylus

The night was warm, but Sylus felt nothing but cold.

He stood across from you, his crimson eyes narrowed, his breath steady—but his heart pounding.

You weren’t you.

Not really.

A Wanderer had taken your body, stolen your will, and twisted it into something unrecognizable. The way you moved—precise, calculating, almost inhuman—was proof enough. Your usual grace had been sharpened into something unnatural, something colder than he could stand to see.

He had fought countless enemies before. He had cut down traitors, eliminated threats, and broken those who dared to stand against him. But this?

This was the first time his hands trembled before a fight had even begun.

You raised your hand, palm out, and Sylus braced himself. A flicker of energy crackled around your fingers—his energy, twisted by your Resonance Evol.

The Wanderer inside you smirked.

“Your hesitation is touching, Sylus,” they said, your voice not quite right. “But it will be your downfall.”

Then, with a flick of your wrist, the world ignited.

A blast of pure, searing energy surged toward him—his own power, amplified and turned against him. He barely had time to react, throwing himself to the side as the ground where he once stood erupted in a violent shockwave.

Damn it.

He knew your Evol made you powerful, but now—now—he was realizing just how dangerous it was. With your Resonance, you weren’t just using his ability. You were enhancing it. Making it faster. Stronger.

Making it better than he ever could.

Sylus exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he steadied himself.

“Darling,” he said, his voice calm despite the ache in his chest, “if you wanted a fight, you could’ve just asked.”

The Wanderer inside you laughed. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. You were always going to lose.”

You lunged.

Sylus barely dodged in time, his coat billowing as he twisted away. Another blast of energy, another near-miss. He felt the heat graze his cheek, singeing his skin. Tch. That was his power. Amplified. Used against him.

And worse?

He still couldn’t bring himself to attack you.

Because even though your body was moving against him, even though you were fighting with deadly precision—it was still you.

And the thought of hurting you was the first thing in his life that truly terrified him.

But this was no longer just about him.

He had to get you back.

Sylus moved with purpose, dodging, analyzing. He needed a plan—a way to break the Wanderer’s hold without breaking you.

But the problem was you were making it impossible.

You weren’t just strong—you were devastating. Every attack came faster, sharper. His own Evol, when amplified by yours, was far more than he could handle. It was overwhelming, relentless.

A pillar of energy surged forward. He braced, crossing his arms as the impact slammed into him, forcing him back. He barely stayed on his feet, his boots skidding against the cracked ground.

You’re too strong like this.

And that realization—it shook him to his core.

He had always known you made him stronger. Had always known that together, you were an unstoppable force.

But now? Now that you were standing against him instead of beside him?

He wasn’t sure if he could win.

And worse—he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

“Come on, Sylus,” the Wanderer taunted through your lips. “You always plan for every possible outcome, don’t you? You must’ve thought about this scenario.”

He clenched his jaw. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

A smirk. “Oh? You really mean to say you never once imagined what would happen if your pretty little Resonance Evol turned against you?”

Sylus said nothing.

Because the truth was—no.

He had never imagined this.

Because in every scenario he had ever planned, in every possibility he had ever considered—

You were always with him.

The next strike was the closest yet.

A blast of energy—too fast, too precise. He barely managed to counter, the force sending him stumbling back. He could feel the bruises forming beneath his clothes, the sting of burned skin where your attack had hit.

And still, he hesitated.

“Why won’t you fight me, Sylus?” the Wanderer hummed, tilting your head. “Afraid you’ll lose?”

His eyes locked onto yours.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said simply.

The Wanderer clicked their tongue. “Oh, but I’ll hurt you.”

You raised your hand again.

And Sylus knew—this time, he wouldn’t be able to dodge.

But at the last second—you hesitated.

It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Sylus saw it. A flicker of recognition. A second where your body tensed—but your fingers curled inward, as if trying to resist.

You were still in there.

Sylus inhaled sharply. That’s it. Hold on, darling. Hold on just a little longer.

If you were still there, he could reach you.

He just had to risk it all.

So, instead of dodging—

He stepped forward.

The Wanderer sneered. “Giving up already?”

Sylus didn’t answer.

He just closed the distance—and grabbed your wrist.

The moment his fingers closed around your skin, he poured his energy into you.

Not to fight.

Not to hurt.

But to resonate.

If your Evol worked through Resonance, through matching the energy of those around you—then all he had to do was flood you with something stronger than the Wanderer’s control.

And there was nothing in this world stronger than his need to bring you back.

Your body stiffened. The energy in your hand faltered, flickering unsteadily between raw power and something uncertain. Your breathing hitched.

Sylus tightened his grip.

“Come back to me,” he murmured, his voice commanding. “I know you’re still in there.”

For a second—nothing.

Then—

A sharp gasp.

Your eyes, wide and yours again for just a moment, locked onto his. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. A violent shudder wracked through your body.

Sylus didn’t let go.

“You are mine,” he said, his voice a whisper, but carrying the full weight of his soul. “No one else gets to have you. Not them. Not anyone.”

A strangled cry tore from your throat. The Wanderer fought—but Sylus was stronger.

Because he knew you.

He knew your energy, your heart, your soul.

And no matter what—nothing could ever make him let you go.

The moment the Wanderer’s hold snapped, you collapsed against him.

Sylus caught you immediately, cradling you against his chest, his arms locking around you like a vice.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, weakly, you whispered, “You’re bleeding.”

Sylus let out a breathless laugh, pressing his forehead against yours. “You should see yourself, darling. You made quite the mess.”

You gave a weak chuckle. “Guess that means I won?”

His grip tightened. “Never.”

Then, softer—

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

You nodded against his chest, and Sylus knew—

No matter what happened next, you would never fight alone again.

Xavier

The world around you spun. The cold, sterile air of the facility clung to your skin, and your heartbeat pounded against your chest as though it wanted to break free. You could feel the weight of your body, but it felt distant, as if you were no longer fully in control of it.

Your breath quickened as the world distorted, everything around you slipping out of focus. The pain in your temples only made the sensation worse, a sharp jolt of nausea sinking into your gut. It was as though your entire being was split in two, and one of those halves was being pulled in a direction you didn’t want to go.

You fought it, clenching your fists in an attempt to regain control, but it was no use. The foreign force inside you took hold with an iron grip, seizing every inch of you, weaving itself into your core until it became you. The invasive presence swirled within, a dark, malicious energy.

There was a flash of movement—Xavier. His silver hair caught the light, and his blue eyes found you with a look of deep concern. His steps faltered as he came closer, his gaze narrowing, confused. But the moment you met his eyes, the clarity of what was happening hit him all at once.

“No,” he whispered. The word trembled from his lips. “No, no, no…”

It was you. It was your body, but not your mind. Not your will. You weren’t in control anymore.

You were a prisoner inside your own skin.

“Xavier!” you tried to shout, but the voice that came out of your mouth wasn’t yours. It was cold, detached, and devoid of all warmth. A hollow echo of what you had once been.

Xavier’s eyes widened as his instincts kicked in. He knew you. He knew you, and this was wrong. This wasn’t the person he’d fought beside, laughed with, shared so many quiet moments. This wasn’t the person who’d trusted him with their heart, body, and soul.

But you weren’t completely gone. He could see it in the way your lips trembled, the subtle flicker of emotion beneath the cold mask the Wanderer had woven over you. But it wasn’t enough.

You were still trapped, still in that dark corner of your mind, but the Wanderer’s will was too powerful.

The presence inside you stirred, pushing against your resistance. Xavier took a careful step forward, his hand raised in a calming gesture, as though trying to reach the real you beneath the enemy’s control.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Just fight, okay? Fight it, please. I’ll find a way to get you back, I swear.”

But you didn’t respond—not with your words, not with any recognition of him. The enemy within you was far more cunning, pushing you forward, taking control of your every movement. You could feel it sinking deeper into you, exploiting the part of your mind that resonated with Xavier’s light. The resonance you shared, once a source of strength, now became a weapon against him, turning his own power into something he had to fight against.

It was then you saw it: the horrible realization in his eyes as he looked at you. He couldn’t bring himself to harm you, not even to defend himself, not when he knew what you’d become.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his shaking hands, but you saw the struggle in his gaze. The anguish was raw, suffocating. He was trying to figure it out. He was trying to find a way to save you both.

The resonance between you and Xavier, the bond that had always strengthened you both in every situation, now felt like an anchor pulling you deeper into a sea of chaos. You could feel his power around you—surging, lighting up the space—but now it was a threat. A threat that made you feel like you were suffocating.

“No,” you whispered, fighting with every ounce of your being to reach him. “Don’t… hurt… me…”

But the Wanderer inside you wasn’t willing to let go. It twisted your body, forcing your hand up, and you could see Xavier’s eyes flicker with the realization that you were about to hurt him.

With a sudden surge of power, the resonance inside you flared to life—Xavier’s own Evol, manipulated by the enemy, twisted around you, harnessed into a blinding ball of light. The space around you erupted, and Xavier was forced back, his own power ripping through the air to fight against yours.

“Xavier—!” you screamed again, but the voice that came out of your mouth was filled with malice, not your own.

You didn’t know if he could hear the real you anymore. You couldn’t even feel the pulse of his Evol flowing into you as it used to. He was too far away now. He was so far away.

But Xavier didn’t back down. Even as the ball of light surged toward him, he didn’t flinch. His Evol blazed brighter, trying to counteract the resonance that had been corrupted. He didn’t understand it entirely, didn’t realize the full depth of what was happening—but he could feel you. He could feel that you were still somewhere in there, buried beneath the surface.

The battle raged on, your body moving against your will, fighting against Xavier. Every strike he blocked only caused him more pain. His own power—the very light that had once been his most treasured ally—felt oppressive, draining. He was fighting with everything he had, trying to reach you, but you were so far gone.

Xavier’s voice cracked with pain. “Please… come back to me.”

In that moment, everything froze. Time seemed to stretch as you felt the pulse of his light reach out, gentle yet forceful, like a lifeline in the storm. He wasn’t giving up. He refused to give up on you.

Somewhere deep inside, something inside you stirred.

The Wanderer’s control over you flickered, just for an instant. And in that moment, you were able to reach him.

You couldn’t speak, but you tried—your hand, shaking and weak, reached out toward Xavier. You were trying to call him back, trying to fight the darkness that had consumed you. But the Wanderer still lingered, still pressing down on you.

Xavier saw it—he saw the fight in you. He saw that you were still there.

And that was enough.

“Hang on,” he whispered, his voice full of promise and pain. “I’ll get you back. I swear I will.”

His Evol flared one last time, combining with the resonance that had always existed between you. This time, your light—the one that connected you both—fought back the darkness with a power neither of you had ever felt before.

The battle raged between the two of you, but this time, Xavier’s light pushed through the darkness, finally forcing it back. Your own resonance fought through the haze, giving you control once again.

And as you regained yourself, breathless and broken, you saw Xavier before you—his blue eyes filled with relief, but also the weight of everything he had just fought against.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

Instead, he pulled you close, holding you tightly as if afraid that if he let go, you’d slip away again.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. But even through the pain, there was nothing but tenderness in his touch.

Zayne

Zayne could feel the cold creeping up his spine long before he saw you.

The battlefield was a chaotic mess of fractured ice and broken stone, an eerie quiet hanging in the air. You had been acting strange earlier—off, distant—but he never could have predicted this. Never could have anticipated what was coming.

Your eyes were distant now, completely blank as you stood across from him, an uncharacteristic stillness in your posture. A thick chill hung in the air, and the normally comfortable bite of his ice Evol now seemed like something far more dangerous—like something hostile.

“Y/N…” His voice was tentative, unsure. His heart pounded in his chest. He knew you. Knew you better than anyone else. So, why were you standing there, so calm, so detached?

You didn’t respond.

A dark energy, one Zayne couldn’t quite explain, pulsed beneath the surface, swirling through the air like a storm, wrapping around you. It wasn’t your power—he could sense that. But what came next? That, he hadn’t expected.

You raised your hand. Your own power—Resonance—flared to life, but it wasn’t the soft, gentle way it usually did. It wasn’t amplifying his power, it wasn’t supporting him like it always did. No. This time, your Resonance vibrated in sync with Zayne’s own ice, amplifying it and twisting it to your will.

And with a sudden burst of energy, Zayne watched in horror as his own ice began to materialize around you—not as defense, but as a weapon.

It was his Evol, the one he had honed and perfected for years, the one he trusted more than anything. And now, it was being used against him. His own creation.

“Y/N!” He yelled, his voice strained with both disbelief and desperation. But you were too far gone, the energy in your eyes too overwhelming.

Without warning, you thrust your hand forward, and the ice surged at him with the force of a tidal wave. Zayne barely had time to react, his body moving on instinct as he threw up his own defenses, sending a surge of ice to block the incoming attack. But it wasn’t enough.

You were using his own power against him. Every movement, every strike was amplified by your Resonance, making the ice you conjured stronger, faster, sharper. He barely managed to dodge one attack as the ice flew past him, slicing through the air and leaving deep gashes in the ground. His heart raced.

“I won’t hurt you…” Zayne muttered to himself, his hands shaking as he summoned more ice to defend himself. He could barely keep up with you now. It wasn’t just the power, it was the control. His Evol had always been something that was intrinsically tied to his soul, his emotions, but now, in your hands, it was alien, a force completely out of his control.

And worse—he didn’t know how to fight you without hurting you. The thought alone tore him apart.

You stepped forward, the ice swirling around you like a storm. It rose from the ground, wrapping around your body like armor, and you moved toward him with terrifying speed, your eyes fixed on him with a distant, eerie look.

Zayne didn’t want to fight you. But you weren’t giving him a choice.

With a cry of frustration, Zayne shot a beam of ice at you, but you deflected it effortlessly, sending shards of his own ice right back at him. One piece grazed his arm, leaving a trail of blood beneath the frozen surface. He winced but didn’t let up, his gaze locked on yours as he took another step back.

"Please," he whispered, voice ragged with emotion. "You have to fight this."

But you didn’t respond, didn’t show any sign of recognition. You just continued to move toward him, the ice in your hands growing more elaborate with each passing moment. A large block of ice shot at him with blinding speed, and Zayne barely managed to dodge it, but he was starting to feel the weight of the battle. His own powers were being turned against him, and he couldn’t keep up.

His breath came in shallow bursts, and his mind raced. There had to be something he could do, something to stop you from using his own Evol against him. He needed you to break free from this—needed you back.

His eyes searched the ground for something—anything—that could help, but all he could see was the snow and ice he had created. Your resonance, your amplification of his ice, was making everything around them feel like a frozen prison.

Then it hit him.

You were using his ice, yes, but you were still you. There was still a trace of your presence beneath the surface, beneath the coldness and the power you now wielded. The way your movements weren’t just about destruction, but about something else—something familiar.

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning: He could still reach you.

Zayne closed his eyes for just a moment and focused, pulling at the ice around him, not in anger or fear, but with something deeper—something he had never relied on before. He wasn’t just using his Evol for defense. He wasn’t trying to trap or fight you.

He was trying to connect.

A wave of ice rippled through the battlefield, but it wasn’t just a defense. It was a gesture, a soft and delicate thing, like the ice seals he had carved for you when you were children. He called upon the memory of that moment, the warmth in the act, the love behind it.

Slowly, carefully, he shaped the ice into something, a symbol. A seal. A small ice sculpture, just like the ones he had made for you all those years ago. It was perfect. Beautiful. Simple.

The ice seemed to slow around him, the energy flickering. He could feel it—the resonance between the two of you, so faint now, but it was still there.

He placed the ice seal on the ground, hoping that this small act would remind you of who you were.

"Please," Zayne whispered. "Remember me."

The ice around you hesitated. The coldness seemed to crack, breaking apart like a frozen surface thawing in the warmth of the sun. You froze in place, your hand trembling as you reached for the ice seal he had created for you.

For a long moment, nothing happened. But then—slowly, so slowly—the coldness in your eyes began to melt, replaced by a softness he had longed to see again. You dropped to your knees, gasping as the power began to drain from you, leaving you breathless but you.

Zayne’s heart swelled as he rushed to your side, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m here,” he whispered against your hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Zayne allowed himself to breathe. The battle was over. And you were back.

[catchastarorten]

—A long day.

Pairing: Cho Sang-woo x wife!fem!reader

Summary: being a professor at the same university your husband taught at was exhausting at times, but at least he knew how to comfort you... that was until a student walked in to ask you a question about an assignment.

Content: fluff, you two are both professors in this au, kisses/neck kisses, making out, caresses, an unlucky student unfortunately walking in on the two of you, English isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word Count: ~ 1.4k

The classroom was quiet now, emptied of students and the hum of chatter that had filled it just hours ago. It had been a long day of lectures, discussions, and endless paperwork. The only sound was the scratch of your pen against a stack of papers that seemed never-ending.

Your head ached slightly from the day, eyes burning from reading through assignment after assignment. You were so caught up in your work that you didn’t notice when someone entered the room.

It was the warm pressure around your waist that made you still, your breath catching for just a second. The familiar scent of him—clean, crisp cologne with the faintest hint of coffee—settled around you, and before you could turn to look, his fingers gently traced along your hip, caressing you in slow, deliberate strokes.

You exhaled slowly after seeing him, running a tired hand down your face. “You scared me.”

Sang-woo hummed lowly, and you swore you saw a rare hint of amusement in his eyes. His hold on you tightened just slightly, his warm body hovering behind yours. “You were too focused. Didn’t even hear me walk in.”

You leaned back into him instinctively, his warmth comforting against the cool air of the empty classroom. “Mmm... maybe because I’m exhausted.”

“I figured,” he murmured, his voice smooth, soft. His hands slowly traced along your waist before settling against your hips again, grounding you. “Long day?”

You let out a small sigh, finally setting down your pen. “The longest. I swear, every student had a question after class today. And half of them didn’t even need to stay. They just wanted to chat.”

His lips curled into a small smile. “You’re too nice to them.”

“They’re still just kids,” you shrugged, though you couldn’t hide the tired smile that tugged at your lips. “Besides, if I don’t help them, who will?”

He sighed, and you felt him shift behind you, his hands moving up to your shoulders, kneading them gently.

“That’s exactly why you run yourself into the ground.” His thumbs pressed into a particularly sore spot, making you hum softly. “You need to take breaks.”

You reached up, covering one of his hands with yours. “I know.”

“You say that,” he started, fingers still working against your tense muscles. “But here you are, still at your desk after hours, barely aware of your surroundings.”

“I was grading,” you defended, though you knew it was a weak argument.

You turned to look up at Sang-woo fully—dark eyes watching you intently, a quiet concern hidden beneath the usual composed expression he wore so well.

“You look tired,” he said, softer this time.

You sighed. “I feel tired.”

He studied you for a moment before his hands shifted, one sliding up from your waist to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin, warm and reassuring. He tilted his head just slightly, eyes flickering between yours before he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips—just a soft press at first, barely there. “Then relax.”

You huffed a quiet laugh but said nothing, closing your eyes briefly as he stroked his thumbs along your skin. It was so easy to sink into him, to let go of the stress clinging to your bones when he touched you like this.

When you opened your eyes again, his gaze was softer than before, his face so close that his breath brushed against your lips.

The moment stretched, anticipation curling through you, before he kissed you again—deeper this time, slower, as if he had all the time in the world.

When he pulled back, he didn’t go far, his forehead brushing against yours. “Let’s go home,” he murmured, as if he was making a statement, not a question.

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

His lips barely curved. “I figured you’d say that.”

“Mm.” You smiled a little. “But maybe I can be convinced.”

Before you could find a reaction from his face, he kissed you again, deeper this time, more deliberate. His lips moved slowly against yours, unhurried yet insistent, as if savoring the taste of you.

Your fingers found the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric lightly as you kissed him back, letting yourself sink into the feeling of him.

When you shifted, pressing closer, his back met the board behind him with a quiet thud, a quiet muffled noise came from his lips. His hands wandered, sliding over your waist, your back, pulling you just a little closer as your mouths moved together in a slow, intoxicating rhythm.

The collar of his neatly buttoned shirt was slightly askew now, the usual composure he carried beginning to unravel in the way his breath grew heavier, in the way his hands roamed with a little less restraint.

When he finally broke away from your lips, his mouth found your jaw, then lower, pressing slow, deliberate kisses down your neck. His lips were warm, the press of them making your breath stutter as his fingers traced lazy patterns along your back.

Before you realized it, he was guiding you, his touch gentle but sure, until your back met the edge of your desk. He lifted you onto it effortlessly, stepping between your legs and barely breaking the kiss.

He wasn’t rushing—he never did. Instead, he took his time with each kiss, each touch. His fingers slid to your hips as he pulled you even closer, lips never leaving yours for too long.

You were wrapped up in him as you sat on the edge of your desk. His lips trailed away from yours again, tracing a path of featherlight kisses down your neck.

You exhaled, tilting your head slightly to give him more room, your fingers threading through his hair. His breath was warm against your skin, his hands steady as they held you close.

And then—

“U-Um—Professor?”

The voice cut through the room like a knife.

You and Sang-woo froze.

Your head turned toward the doorway, where a student stood wide-eyed, gripping a notebook tightly to their chest as if it was a shield.

The poor thing looked like they had just walked in on something they definitely should not have seen.

You reacted first, pulling back quickly and clearing your throat as heat rushed to your face, shifting off of the desk easily. Sang-woo straightened as well, adjusting his collar and stepping back just enough to create a more appropriate distance between you.

The student, clearly horrified, looked between the two of you as if trying to process exactly what they had interrupted. “I—um—I just had a question about the assignment, but I can—come back later!”

You waved a hand, trying to compose yourself despite the very obvious tension lingering in the air. “No... no, it’s fine! What’s your question?”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Sang-woo trying—and fumbling—to button up the collar of his shirt, running a hand over his slightly ruffled hair before slipping back into his usual composed demeanor.

The student hesitated, clearly dying to flee but also too dedicated to their grades to abandon the reason they had come in. “...It’s about the essay. The word count requirement—uh—do quotes count toward it?”

You cleared your throat again, pushing some loose hair behind your ear in an attempt to gather yourself. “Yes, they do, but try not to rely too heavily on them. Your analysis should still be the main focus.”

The student nodded quickly, still looking like they were processing the absolute disaster they had just walked into. “R-Right! Got it! Thank you, Professor! I’ll just—um—I’ll go now!”

And before you could say anything else, they spun on their heels and bolted out of the room.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, you turned to see your husband failing to hide a smile.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Why didn’t we lock the door?”

Sang-woo let out a quiet exhale, stepping closer again. “A lesson learned.” He leaned in, pressing one last kiss—soft and lingering—against your forehead before murmuring, “I'm assuming we could go home now.”

With your heart still racing and your face still warm, you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah… yeah, okay. I’m done for the day.”

Hopefully that student still shows up tomorrow for your class?

[hyunjuenthusiast]

Im craving for angst , so girl can you write about Hyun ju x female reader

Basically Hyun ju and female reader have been dating for 1 and half year now, but things didn't went so well after attending squid game, Hyun ju gave young mi more attention , than she did for female reader so she distance herself from Hyun ju and her team, wondering why female reader ditched her. So female reader went to Gi Hun's team instead. And to make things worse not only Hyun ju voted O to continue the game, but Hyun ju lost the love of her life during the Mingle, ANND.. It took Hyun ju 2 to 4 business days to figure out that she hasn't been a good girlfriend ever since they came to squid game and Hyun ju Crashes out so badly.

(Female reader committed su!cide during Mingle, died instead of young mi and the shaman lady predicted female reader's death)

(And YES the guilt is definitely eating Hyun ju alive)

Sorry if this is too long

Take your time for this one

゜・（／。＼）・゜

Okayyyy complex, I like it! Hopefully I do this ask justice 🙏🏻

HER ANGEL

Pairing: Hyun-ju x femreader

Warnings: ANGST, depression, death, suicide, longing, survivors guilt.

Insecure. That was a word Y/n had always been familiar with. Ever since she was little. Her mother would criticize everything she did. If she ate too much, if she didn't eat enough. If her hair was down, if her hair was up. If she smiled, and if she didn't smile. Everything she did up until she was an adult was judged.

When she finally got the taste of freedom, moving out at the ripe age of eighteen, she discovered that the world was an ugly place. Nothing like how she fantasized how it would be. The books were wrong.

For the first few years after moving out, she was alone. Truly alone. She had no one. No friends to call late at night, no fuzzy kitten to cuddle when she had tears running down her face on a rainy day. No significant other who would whisper sweet nothings to her as she fell asleep... No one.

Not until she met her angel. Hyun-ju.

Everything had changed. For the first time in her life, Y/n felt like she deserved to take up space in the world. Hyun-ju made her feel wanted, loved. She erased every insecurity Y/n had. She loved every flaw and imperfection. She kissed her scars and wiped her tears.

Hyun-ju was her soul mate.

Y/n didn't care that her angel was different. She didn't care how people looked at them in public. Hyun-ju was perfect, in every way. Even if her angel couldn't see it for herself.

Hyun-ju told Y/n of her wishes for surgery. She had cried to Y/n about her debt and abandonment. And Y/n was there to comfort her in return, wiping her angels tears away and whispering promises.

So when a nice-looking man asked Y/n to play a game, showing her the money she would win, of course she agreed. For her angel, for Hyun-ju.

Y/n didn't need convincing to call the number on the back on the card. Once she saw Hyun-ju looking at herself in front of the mirror, her eyes filled with loathing, she dialed the number.

It was the least she could do. Hyun-ju had given Y/n her sense of self back. She had given Y/n her smile back. Of course, she would return the favor. Anything for her angel.

Waking up to the blasted music, she looked around to see other people. Waring the ugliest green she had ever seen. Looking down at herself, she saw her jacket was labeled 005.

She gathered around like everyone else. Waiting for an explanation. There were so many pink guards and even more players. They explained that they weren't trying to collect debt or cause any harm.

"Excuse me!" Said a voice. Not just any voice. Her angel's voice. Y/n quickly turned and saw Hyun-ju. Her Hyun-ju standing near a couple of bunks. She didn't catch what her angel said next, only focused on the fact that she was here.

Y/n winced as she saw Hyun-ju getting slapped. That was the day her angel had gone on a walk. She remembers her coming home, acting strange. Hyun-ju had met the salesman before Y/n did.

As all the players walked in single file lines up the colorful steps to get their pictures taken, Y/n looked around for Hyun-ju. Seeing her fixing her hair prettily, she smiles and quickly walks up to her. "Angel!" Y/n gushes.

Instead of greeting Y/n with a smile, Hyun-ju tenses. Asking her what she was doing here. "I know how much you need the money..." Y/n whispers softly, watching as Hyun-ju's eyes soften.

As they all walk into the first game, Hyun-ju holds Y/n's hand. "Don't separate from me, sweet girl. Okay?" Her angel asks softly. Y/n squeezes her hand in return.

"What is that?" Y/n asks, pointing to the giant doll like figure in the distance.

"Green light..."

Y/n quickly runs forward a few steps, then stops.

"Red light!" The doll waits, seeing if anyone would move.

The first to go was 196. Y/n stood, stiff as a board, the sound of people dying behind her. When the doll says green light, no one moves forward, but Hyun-ju reaches over and grips Y/n's hand.

Player 456 explains that they will die anyway if they don't cross the finish line in time, and so, she stays behind Hyun-ju, racing towards the finish line.

Once across, she watches in horror as her angel races back across to help player 456. This is the first and only time that Y/n has ever wanted to yell at Hyun-ju.

The second game is the six legged pentathlon. Her and Hyun-ju look around for more teammates. She notices Hyun-ju's fallen expression when people stare at her, and when they don't want to join because of her.

"Excuse me?" A timid voice says from behind the both of them. Y/n and Hyun-ju turn to see a small girl, obviously nervous. "W-Would you...like to team up with me?" She asks, looking at Hyun-ju first, then to Y/n.

Ever since then, Hyun-ju had been attached at the hip with Young-Mi. It was hard for Y/n not to notice, especially in a place like this. When she wanted comfort and reassurance from her angel, she would see that Hyun-ju was already comforting Young-Mi, that she was already whispering words of encouragement to her instead of Y/n.

But that was just who her angel was. She was kind to everyone, and Y/n had no right to take that away from Young-Mi. Y/n could clearly see how terrified the small girl was, and if Hyun-ju was her safe place, then who was Y/n to take that away from her?

That's was until Y/n heard it. What Hyun-ju was saying to Young-Mi.

"I won't let anything happen to you, sweet girl." Hyun-ju had said. Y/n felt her stomach drop. Sweet girl. That was Y/n's nickname. That was her word of endearment.

She decided to give them space. Joining player 456 and his team.

The third game was mingle.

As they all stood on the platform, Y/n watched as Hyun-ju held Young-Mi's hand, giving her soft smiles. Y/n felt horrible for feeling envious. Would she always be cursed to be this insecure? Would she ever feel content with anything?

"TEN"

The voice said. Everyone scrambled to find their groups and rooms. So far, their team had nine after joining Hyun-ju. Until her angel grabbed the crazy shaman lady.

Running into the green room, Y/n pants, not even bothering to look at her angel holding onto another woman. Hyun-ju gives her a confused look, wondering why she had left their group.

"Your heavy sorrow will swallow you whole." The crazy lady says, making everyone look at her. Y/n shrinks into herself as she realizes that she's talking to her. "You won't last much longer, I'm afraid. Pity. You have the purest birthstone."

"SIX" the voice says.

Gi-hun and Young-il had split from the group, leaving Y/n no other choice but to join Hyun-ju.

They all run to a yellow door, freezing in their tracks as they see a group is already in there. Hyun-ju races to find a different one.

She found one.

Y/n starts to run towards it with the other people in her group, but when she sees player 333 running towards it too, she slows down.

Looking over at her angel, she sees her clutching Young-Mi's hand.

The pregnant girl holds her belly.

The mother and sun cling to each other.

Where did Y/n fit into that? She didn't.

She has seen Jun-hee talking to player 333 on several occasions...

She needed him, more than any of them needed Y/n.

She made her decision then.

As player 333 races into the room, she finally hears Hyun-ju calling for her. Her angel was trying to get 333 out of the way.

Y/n walks to the door, looking into the small slit. "Y/n, what the hell are you doing? Go find a room! Go!" Hyun-ju shouts. Y/n only shakes her head softly.

"Ita okay angel." She whispers, putting her hands onto the door. Hyun-ju is starting to panic. The timer still had thirteen seconds on it. "I know there's no place for me here. Not now." Y/n says, tearing up.

Hyun-ju continues to shout, begging Y/n to go find a room. "You made me feel so inside the lines, Hyun-ju. Like I wasn't a lost shade outside of the pretty design. I could actually fit inside the art." Y/n says with a sad smile.

"I never thanked you for that." She says. "Thank you for showing me. For guiding me to see who I was for the first time."

Nine seconds on the timer.

"I know you'll be happy. You'll make it out of here and live the life you've always dreamed of...live the life you've always deserved. A life, with Young-Mi." Y/n's lip quivers.

Four seconds on the timer.

Hyun-ju starts shaking the door, sobbing and yelling. "I love you, my angel." She whispers tearfully, letting out a pained breath as she feels the bullet peirce her back.

"NO! Y/N!"

Player 333 had left that room beaten to a bloody pulp.

At first, Young-Mi's hand doesn't feel out of place instead of her own, not for the next two games.

Until Y/n's words repeat instead of her head.

A life...with Young-Mi.

Once she realizes it, she drops Young-Mi's hand as if it had burned her. She had been holding the wrong woman. Comforting the wrong woman. Calling her...

She had called the wrong woman sweet girl.

Hyun-ju looks over to Young-Mi, a tear falling. She had made the love of her life question her love.

She had been at fault for her sweet girl's death. Not 333. Not even the guards. Hyun-ju was the reason.

"Don't worry. You'll be seeing her again, " the shaman says. "A lot sooner than you think."

For the next game... was human chess.

I'm scared.... what do we think?

[lchufflepuffcorn]

Dragon hybrids with their first child/how they feel when they see their mate with children

Ooooooouh! I like that! I spoke a bit about it in one of Rhaenyra's headcanon, but having to explain it more is fun!! You are now dubbed the 🧑‍🍼anon! Spicy-ish in some places. Consider yourselves warned.

With their children and mates: A reaction.

With Mates:

Aegon ii:

Listen, he’s glad that you like his kids, but he’d much rather keep you to himself. Thank you very much. The less people know about you, the better, and honestly, having you take care of his and Helaena’s children always sour’s his mood. 

He still leans against the door, watching you interact with both his children as they were practicing music with a nanny. He still yearns for that novelty of a newborn, that warmth he feels when he holds them as itty-bitty things. Yet his duties do not lie with you, and he feels like it would be like dishonoring you to have you compete with Helaena’s children. He doesn’t want his mother to meddle with his feelings like she did with his marriage. He’ll commit to his wife, even if it means having you both hurt from this situation, rather than comfort his mother. Losing you is not a price he’s ready to pay for his own happiness. 

He is selfish and a brat, mean and a coward, but he’ll sleaze his way into keeping you without any remorse. 

Aemond: 

He’d never thought of children before seeing you with his sister’s hatchlings. There was something strange that happened to Aemond when he first saw you hold one of the little twins, a month or two after their birth. 

The one-eyed prince was used to Vhagar cooing at smaller things; many things were smaller than her. But that wasn’t it. Vhagar’s history was well known. She’d had many hatchlings of her own before, and the hole that carved itself in his chest when he saw you standing there with your arms full of a baby, smiling down at the little bundle of red cheeks and white hair was nearly enough to make his wings pop out and wrap them around you.

He felt like protecting you from the watchful eyes of Helaena, who was probably just concerned about the well-being of her hatchling. But how could she even think about you doing evil to the little being in your arms? 

Warm and safe, a wall of scales and leathery wings. Ours to protect, ours to raise. Little giggles echoing against the walls of the castle, the smell of baby skin. Aemond had never had those memories, but they still felt like his. And he’d never wanted something more in his whole life than to give you hatchling to take care of, to see the smile you arbored looking at Jaehaerys toward children that would have traits like yours, but with the Targaryens hair and eyes. 

He stood inert, face blank, all the while you held the child in your arms, never making it seem like his emotions were warring against his own reason. Two steps back, half turned toward the doors, even though guards were posted there already. Aemond would protect his sister’s peace and joy, but also the vulnerability of this moment. Of sharing them with the most precious thing he ever held dear. 

Baela: 

Watching carefully as you played with Aegon and Viserys from her seat, Baela could only smile. She knew of her duty to continue the lineage of her Targaryen/Velaryon blood, and she knew she could not imagine herself having her hatchling with anyone else than you. Her perfect lover, her mate. She thought herself young still, too young to be married; her father thought so too. 

“Baela, look!” Aegon’s cry came to her ears, and she raised her head from the book she was pretending to read. Her little half brother was riding on your shoulder, his little pudgy hands firmly held on some strands of your hair, a bright smile on his face. 

“You’ve tamed them?” She asked her brother, eyeing your form playfully, and you sent her a fake glare, mouthing ‘tamed’ with a roll of your eyes. She chuckled and watched as Aegon nodded proudly. 

She’ll like having children, hatchlings, with you when you’re older. When your names are synonyms of each other. But right now, she enjoys the sight of her lover with her family. 

Helaena:

Much like Aegon, she’d rather not have children with you. She already has three, in all. Her duty is to her kingdom, to Aegon, and to her mother. Much as she regrets not being able to share herself completely with you, she would never put herself and you, much less any children coming out of this union, in danger. 

It’s not selfishness if she does it for your own safety. Helaena reason’s with herself again. Dreamfyre purring at the sight of their hatchling cuddled with you in a too-small bed. You’re retelling a story of wolves and roses. One she hasn’t paid much mind to, but she knows her children enjoy it. 

It’s peaceful to have someone else take care of the little ones. It is peaceful to share their pleasure. Aegon doesn’t keep them close, Jaehaera, more so than her brother, but Jaehaerys is the crown prince. She smiles, cocking her head to the side as she observes her children cuddle closer to you, their eyes fluttering close at every other word you speak. 

Jacaerys:

Having to share you was one of the worst punishments for Jace. But the more he watched you interact with his siblings, especially the younger ones, he couldn’t help the burning passion that flared inside of him. He couldn’t hide how his tail would slither from left to right, up then down, or how his wings would flutter. He could hardly hide the bulge in his pants when he looked at you holding the toddlers for too long. 

Leathery wings hiding you from the light of day, Jace had managed to lure you into his chambers (again), holding you against the wall as he quite literally rutted into you, still fully clothed. His warmth was nearly suffocating, and his kisses left behind them a burning hot trail. He puffed his exertion into your neck, talking to the best of his abilities. 

“Can’t wait. Mated. Let me give you the best thing in our lives.” He pleaded, eyes glazed over by lust, leaving behind marks upon your skin, busying his hands to undo whatever clothes you were wearing. A prince should never beg, but right now, Jace is fighting for his legacy™. 

One of your hands tugs at his hair, and he lets out a wine that wrenches out your heart. You feel him, hard against one of your legs, warm against your chest, his lips bruising at your neck and shoulders. Kiss him back, and he’ll whine for you, pressing harder into you as if he could pass through your clothes. Let your nails, blunt or not, rake against the scales covering his neck, and he’ll shiver, his eyes darkening with desire. 

Laenor: 

Heart-eyes. 

Laenor looks at you, holding little Jace, his firstborn, his wife’s firstborn, with heart-shaped eyes. At first, he thought his marriage would destroy his bond with you, but you kept surprising him every time. 

Rhaenyra was in the room, laying back to rest, watchful eyes gazing at the both of you, but Laenor couldn’t care less right now. He huddled closer to you, looking at the brown-haired child in your arms from over your shoulder, then looking up at your face with a marveled look. He looks back at Rhaenyra, unable to find the words, her work more important than what he’d ever imagine it to be, the fruit of her labor making his heart sing for all of you. 

She smiles back at him, and he pulls you closer to her bed, letting her see her baby, your baby. He’s lucky, Laenor thinks. Lucky to have such a loving mate and such an understanding wife. Such a wonderful family it is. 

Rhaena:

While Rhaena likes children, especially her sibling, I don’t think she’d be that into having some. (As she will be forced to mother her stepbrothers.). 

She’s glad that you are good with her family; it is important to her. She would be glad if you stepped up to help her when Rhaenyra asked her to be the mother she couldn’t be to her children. But I think she’d be even more glad that you didn’t force her to have children of her own. She is content with just having you. 

With Lovers: 

Daemon: 

Daemon would try to give you your own. If you like children (especially his) so much, why not have some for yourself? 

“Of course Rhaenyra doesn’t mind; should we ask her?” He’d tease into your ears, hips rutting against your own. “Would you like her to join in, too?” His laughter intended to be mean, mocking, but his breath caught, transforming it to a moan, his scaly hands coming to grip at your hips, talons caressing dangerously the fragile skin under them. 

“I could father children for the both of you, have twins from different parents.” 

He’s lost in his own fantasy, babbling away, words hardly making any sense as he plunges into you with more will than ever before. It’s your fault, really; had you not reached to grab Rhaena, keeping her steady on her feet as she playfully walked on the stone railing of the outside stairs, you would not be in this position. Truly, if you hadn't, Caraxes would not have taken over and kidnapped you for a very passionate, loving time. It had been something about the panic in your eyes, the way you’d reacted—even quicker than him—to his own child’s dangerous exercise. 

He hadn’t even locked the door. And thinking about Rhaenyra entering on them both fucking (to put it crudely) clothes barely taken off and positioned like animals made his movement sharper, taking a gasp out of your mouth; his forehead fell to your shoulder.

Rhaenyra:

It’s a given that Rhaenyra would not accept you as a lover if you didn’t love her children. Having you actively in their life is something she takes to heart, and she would not imagine herself with you if you didn’t respect and love her hatchling. (See this headcanon for more reference.)

Taglist: @lady-dragon-rider

List of anon: 👑😵‍💫🥰🧑‍🍼

[serenastark-official]

Serena raised a brow, unimpressed. "First of all, yes, I do espionage missions. I just prefer not to half-ass them." She smirked. "Second, congratulations, you got a sniper. Want a gold star?"

She followed Dani inside, eyes scanning their surroundings. Everything seemed too easy—until Dani blew the dust, revealing a web of security lasers crisscrossing the room like a death trap.

Serena whistled. "Gotta love the classics."

Location: A high-security underground vault in Zurich. Time: 2:37 AM. Objective: Retrieve a stolen Stark Industries prototype before it falls into the wrong hands.

Snow crunched beneath Serena's boots as she pressed herself against the cold metal wall, her breath coming in quiet puffs of mist. The facility was eerily silent—too silent. Her gut told her this wasn't going to be a simple in-and-out job. Adjusting her gauntlet, she tapped her earpiece.

"C.A.R.L.O.S., tell me something good."

Define good, Miss Stark. If you mean the dozen heat signatures moving toward your position, then I regret to inform you that the news is quite bad.

Serena exhaled sharply. "Screw it. Let’s improvise."

Her HUD flickered as she scanned the room ahead—dim emergency lights cast long, jagged shadows. The prototype had to be close. But so was someone else.

A noise. Footsteps.

Serena raised her repulsor, eyes narrowing. Ally or foe? That was the million-dollar question.

"Alright, whoever’s out there, show yourself. You’ve got three seconds before I start blasting."

[austinbutlerslovers]

Just Between Us

Label Mature 18+

Summary Austin invites Callum Turner to stay at your place for the week, but as the days pass, you begin to suspect they have something planned that they aren’t telling you. Their teasing and lingering touches build tension until, on the final night, they reveal exactly what they’ve been planning all along —both of them want you at the same time.

🔗 Masterlist

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Austin +You + Callum • threesome• both focused on your pleasure •praising •sweet talk • good girl•being kissed by both • being passed between both • being used at the same time by both •fingering •clit play •nipple play • size kink • “Eiffel Tower” •oral on male • cum eating •P in V• simultaneous orgasms• cream pie •after care from both

RIP🐱 💦 Especially @aust-een @soft-mama-reads @psycheetamore @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @abswifey @unicoo

Just Between Us

The morning starts slow, just the way you like it. Sunlight filters through the curtains, golden and warm, stretching across the sheets as you stir awake.

The faint scent of coffee drifts from the kitchen, and when you finally push yourself out of bed, you find Austin already there, barefoot, hair still messy from sleep, an espresso in his hand as he leans lazily against the counter.

“Morning, beautiful,” he smiles, his eyes flicking up from his phone as you step into the kitchen. His voice is still heavy with sleep, rough in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You hum in response, stretching before making your way over to him. He sets his espresso down just in time to pull you against his chest pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “Sleep good?” he asks.

You nod against him, relishing the warmth of his body, the way his arms wrap securely around you. “Mmm, would’ve slept better if you stayed in bed longer,” you mumble, half teasing, half serious.

Austin grins, his lips brushing over your forehead. “I tried. But I figured I’d make breakfast instead.”

He gestures toward the counter, where he’s already set out eggs, toast, and fresh fruit.

Your smile up at him lovingly and he smirks. “Go sit,” he says, nudging you toward the stool by the counter. “I’ll make you an espresso.”

You obey, watching him move around the kitchen with practiced ease. The smell of coffee fills the space, mingling with the scent of fresh toast, and for a moment, everything feels perfect—easy, familiar, yours.

“Oh,” Austin says casually, pouring steamed milk into your espresso, the delicate swirl of foam rising to the top. “Callum’s staying for a week.”

Your fork pauses mid air, your eyes snapping to him in disbelief.

“Callum Turner?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly.

Austin smirks, setting the espresso in front of you. “Yeah. Callum Turner.”

Your brain runs wild. First of all, it’s Callum Turner: British, charming, and the embodiment of effortlessly cool. Second of all, it’s Callum Turner staying in your house for a week!

“How did this happen ?” you ask, setting your fork down.

Austin grins at your enthusiasm. “Few days ago. Said he wanted a place to stay that felt more comfortable than a hotel during his visit to the U.S.”

You blink at him in disbelief still processing the information. “What made you say yes?”

Austin leans back his smirk widening seeing how invested you are in Callum’s visit, studying you as if you should already know the answer.

“It’s Callum,” he says simply, grinning as if that explains everything.

The day Callum arrives, the house feels brighter somehow. Maybe it’s his energy, or maybe it’s the way his British accent fills the air, every word of his heavy with charm.

The moment his tall imposing figure steps through the front door his face lights up.

“Austin!” He beams, stepping into the living room “It’s been ages mate. When will you learn to use your cellphone?” Callum jokes his voice a mix of sarcasm and affection.

Austin rolls his eyes but grins. “You’re here aren’t you?” he fires back, though it’s clear from his hug how much he’s missed him.

Callum looks different from the last time you’ve seen him. He’s bulked up broad shoulders, thick arms, and a confidence that radiates effortlessly. His smile is dazzling, his blue eyes magnetic, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous in his presence.

“There she is!” Callum exclaims, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and lifting you clear off the ground. His body feels solid and warm, and for a moment, you’re utterly speechless.

“Austin’s favorite little thing—he never stops going on about you y’know,” he murmurs his accent making the words sound impossibly smooth. He bounces you lightly in his arms, a playful grin on his face, before setting you down gently.

Your cheeks burn as you smooth your skirt, trying to regain composure. “It’s nice to see you too, Callum,” you manage, your voice lighter than usual your face blushing pink.

Austin raises an eyebrow at Callum. “Man-handling her already” he chides, but there’s a warmth in his voice.

Callum grins, unbothered. “She likes it don’t you love?” He says slinging his Louis Vuitton duffle bag over his shoulder.

You quickly change subjects feeling their attention on you. “That’s a beautiful bag Callum,” you say, nodding toward it.

Callum glances back with a boyish grin. “Thanks. I’m the house ambassador now. Perks of the job,” he says casually, before disappearing down the hall with Austin leading him to the guest bedroom.

The days pass in a blur of activity. Austin and Callum fall into their old rhythm, talking about everything from filming Masters of the Air to Callum’s streak of successes. You try to stay out of their way, giving them space to catch up, but they won’t have it, insisting you join them at every opportunity.

You spend more time with them than you expect: grabbing coffee at Austin’s favorite cafe, late-night dinners downtown, and even watching movies together at night.

At the cafe, Callum insists on ordering a new drink for you, his smirk playful as he leans in. “You trust me, don’t you, love?” he grins, effortlessly.

Austin watches, amused, sipping his latte. “If she hates it, you’re drinking it.”

Callum just laughs, unfazed. “Oh, she won’t hate it. I know exactly what she needs.” he says smoothly, his smirk widening as he hands the order over.

Minutes later, the barista sets the drink in front of you a creamy espresso concoction topped with a hint of cinnamon. Callum watches you intently, his eyes glinting with anticipation as you lift the cup to your lips.

The first sip is rich, warm, the cinnamon teasing at the edges of your taste buds. You let it linger before swallowing, considering it.

“Mm it’s really good” you admit your eyes lighting up as you lick your lips.

Callum practically beams, his excitement unshakable. “See? I told you, Austin! I knew she’d like it. She’s such a good girl, isn’t she?”

His voice is smooth, teasing, the words rolling off his tongue like honey—almost as if he knows thats Austin’s secret name for you—the one that has you doing everything he says.

Austin chokes on his latte.

You whip your head toward him, watching as he hastily wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His brows lift, his eyes flicking between you and Callum, his smirk unmistakable.

“Subtle, Callum,” Austin remarks under his breath, and that’s when you realize.

Callum knows you like to be called good girl—and Austin is the one who told him.

Callum grins, his gaze knowing and assessing as he looks at you. “She is a very good girl, aren’t you, love?” he teases, leaning back in his chair, enjoying the way your cheeks flush with heat at the words.

Austin’s eyes flick between the two of you, his smirk deepening as if he already knows what’s happening.

But he doesn’t say anything more—he just tilts his head slightly, as if he’s waiting to see just how far Callum will push it.

Later that week the three of you dress up and head to dinner downtown, stepping into a restaurant that radiates quiet luxury, the kind of place where celebrities frequent, the atmosphere opulent and effortlessly exclusive.

Austin walks beside you, his hand settling at the small of your back, his eyes unable to leave you. He’s been like this all evening, soft smiles, lingering glances, the kind of attention that makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room.

The host leads you through the restaurant, past sleek candle lit tables, until you reach a private corner table with plush chairs, and a perfect view of the city skyline beyond the floor to ceiling windows.

You take a soft inhale, your lips parting slightly in awe as you take it all in. “Wow, this is so beautiful,” you compliment, seeing the city lights shimmering like diamonds in the distance.

Austin, pulls your chair for you, his fingertips brushing your waist as he helps you settle in. “Not as beautiful as you,” he says, his voice soft and sincere as he takes the seat beside you.

“You’re absolutely stunning tonight.” Callum adds taking his seat across the table, and you smile softly looking between them, the warmth of their attention sending a flutter through your chest.

“You two are going to make my ego unbearable,” you tease, but there’s no denying how good it feels to be adored by both of them.

As the waiter pours the first round of drinks, you settle into the moment, letting the atmosphere wrap around you as you enjoy their company.

“These past few days have been unforgettable,” you say, looking at them both. “I’ve really loved having you here, Callum. It’s been so much fun.”

Callum lifts his drink, his grin boyish and effortless. “That’s what I’m here for, love—keep things interesting.” he teases, then he pauses, his gaze drifting over you, lingering in a way that feels both playful and intentional.

“But between the three of us,” he muses, tilting his glass slightly, “I think you’re the one making this week unforgettable.”

Austin smirks, his fingers tracing down his glass. “The truth,” he murmurs, his blue eyes flicking toward you full of mischief.

You shake your head, but the way both of them are watching you makes a warmth settle in your chest. You grin, and for a moment as you sit between them, you feel it again—that undeniable pull, the unspoken energy tangling between the three of you.

During dinner, the conversation flows effortlessly, the laughter rising between bites of perfectly plated dishes. The wine keeps coming, no ones glass is ever empty for long, and with every drink, the energy around the table becomes looser, warmer.

Austin leans back in his chair, his arm stretched casually behind you, his fingers lightly tracing over your shoulder as Callum sits across from you, already a flushed, his grin a little wider, his words a little smoother.

Callum watches you just long enough for you to notice before tilting his head smiling. “You really light up when you laugh.” He says, his voice low and easy, but there’s something beneath it—something intentional.

You feel it—the weight of their attention as if the air between you all has shifted into something deeper, unspoken. Your gaze flickers between them, Austin’s thumb grazing slow circles against your arm, Callum’s eyes never leaving yours.

Austin’s gaze lingers on you, his blue eyes darkening just slightly, something unreadable flickering behind them.

“She does, doesn’t she?” he muses, his voice smooth, teasing.

His fingers press just a little firmer against your skin as he slowly leans in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

It’s effortless, intoxicating, and just when you start to drift into it, Austin pulls back only slightly, his breath warm against your lips, his gaze locked onto yours.

Callum watches, his grin lazy, almost knowing as he knocks back the rest of the drink.

By the time you arrive home, you barely have time to say “Good night Callum” before Austin is taking your hand and leading you down the hall to the master bedroom.

He pushes the door open with purpose, pulling you inside before kicking it shut behind him leaving Callum standing in the hall.

Austin’s is firm and unyielding as his body presses flush against yours and his mouth claims yours with urgency.

You barely have time to catch your breath before his lips are devouring you, his hands already tugging at the straps of your dress.

With one swift motion, he pulls it down your shoulders, his fingers trailing hot against your skin, as it falls to the floor leaving you in only lace panties.

His eyes drink you in, dark and hungry, his breath shallow and heated as his fingertips trace over your hips before gripping them possessively.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pants his voice tense with need and before you can react, he’s guiding you back, your legs feeling the edge of the bed as his takes you down onto it.

He settles at your waist his hands spreading your thighs apart, his weight pinning you just enough to keep you exactly where he wants you.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, yanking them down in one swift motion, his breath hot against your skin.

The first flick of his tongue sends a jolt through you, pleasure striking fast, your back arching instantly.

“Austin!” you gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets as the heat coils deep inside you, sharp and undeniable.

He doesn’t ease you into it—he devours you with intensity driven on every intent to wreck you.

His tongue moves in deep torturous strokes, teasing, pressing harder, curling, sucking, his mouth sealing over you as if he can’t get enough.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as you try to move—but there’s nowhere to go, no escape from the relentless onslaught of his tongue diving into you.

Your head falls back as you moan loudly, your body desperate, trembling as the pleasure coils tighter, sharper. He groans against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and your cries spill freely, breathless and needy.

He feels it—how close you are, how you’re teetering on the brink,and he only pushes harder, flicking his tongue faster, sucking deeper, his fingers digging into your skin as he pushes you over the edge.

And when you finally break, when your body shatters against his mouth, you moan his name as he rides out each wave, lapping up every bit of your arousal, dragging your pleasure higher, deeper, until you’re nothing but a trembling, mess beneath him.

He doesn’t waste a second as you lay there, breathless, he’s already undoing his belt, his movements urgent, almost frantic.

He shoves his pants down, unbuttoning his shirt in a rush, the fabric falling to the floor as he climbs over you, his body pressing on yours instantly.

His lips find your neck in hot open-mouthed kisses, his breath ragged against your skin as he sucks harder, deeper creating a bruise. You can feel his cock, thick and hard, pulsing with need, and before you can catch your breath, he grips your hips and pushes in to you all at once.

The shock of fullness has you gasping, your back arching, fingers clutching at his shoulders.

“Austin!” you cry out, overwhelmed by the sudden depth feeling the sheer intensity of him inside you.

He lifts his head his blue eyes burning into yours, his jaw tight as he restrains himself.

“Say my name,” he commands,his voice rough with need.

“Austin” you moan for him, and he pushes forward in deep, deliberate strokes, his hips pressing flush against you, his body pinning you in place. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, doesn’t ease you into it—he just wants to feel you come for him.

His hands grip your thighs, pulling them apart wider as he drives deeper, his rhythm unrelenting. Moans spill from your lips over and over again, the pleasure building too sharp, too fast.

He tilts your hips, angling just right, his hips snapping, every thrust sending white-hot surges of pleasure ripping through you.

His hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing in tight, desperate circles.

“That’s it…baby…give it to me. Let me hear you …come.” He says his voice breathless with need.

Your voice is strained as you moan, barely holding yourself together. He watches every reaction, every spasm of your body, every shuddering breath—knowing completely what makes you fall apart.

And then it happens.

The tension inside you breaks the pleasure crashing over you in a surging waves, your body clenching tightly around his cock, your moans breaking into something raw, uncontrolled.

Austin groans, his head dropping to your shoulder as he fights through your release, enduring it, dragging it out, his thrusts harder, faster, his name still spilling from your lips, exactly how he wanted.

With a firm deep thrust, he comes, his abs pulling up, his moans breaking into breathless pants. His release pulses deep inside of you, his body rocking helplessly against you as he shudders through the overwhelming pleasure.

His breath is hot against your skin, his hips grinding slower, deeper, anchoring himself to you as his moans spill freely feeling the last waves of his climax overtake him.

When it’s finally over, when your body lays trembling beneath him, he doesn’t move instead, he strokes your face, his fingers tracing softly over your heated skin.

His thumb brushes your lower lip, his gaze searching yours, as his touch drifts lower, tracing over the curve of your jaw. “I love you” he says breathlessly.

You smile up at him stroking his jaw affectionately. “I love you too,” you pant, still catching your breath.

Austin exhales slowly, his fingers trailing through your hair, his eyes holding something deep, something unspoken. “There’s so much I want to give you,” he reveals, his voice low and thoughtful.

You blink up at him, sensing a shift, the weight of his words settling between you. “You already do,” you whisper, brushing your lips softly against his, completely unaware of the thoughts running through his mind as you kiss him.

The following night, you and Austin decide to make Callum’s favorite meal—shepherd’s pie and roasted vegetables. The kitchen fills with warmth, the rich aroma of roasted herbs and butter drifting through the air as the two of you work together, laughing and moving easily around each other.

When you finally set the dish in front of Callum, his face lights up, eyes gleaming under the soft glow of the dining room lights. “You’ve outdone yourselves,” he says, raising a glass to you both. “I might never leave.”

Austin grins, cutting into his meal. “You say that, but I know you’d miss London too much.”

“Maybe,” Callum muses, looking at you over the rim of his glass before taking a slow sip. “But I’m starting to see the appeal of staying in America.”

You glance at Austin, but he just smirks, his eyes flicking between the two of you before taking another bite.

“You know, Austin never stops talking about you when you’re apart,” Callum teases, his voice smooth, effortlessly confident.

“Really?” you grin, turning to Austin, who suddenly seems more interested in his plate as his cheeks tinge pink.

“Oh yeah,” Callum nods, his tone both playful and sincere. “Took me a while to realize he wasn’t exaggerating.”

A heat creeps up your face at his words, the air between you shifting, charged with something you can’t quite define—but Austin only grins as if this is all wildly amusing to him.

After dinner, the three of you settle into the living room, the soft glow of the film The Beach flickering across the screen, casting warm, golden shadows around the room.

You sit between them, nestled against Austin’s side, his arm draped around you absentminded tracing circles along your shoulder, as Callum sprawls out on your other, completely at ease watching the film.

Callum leans back, stretching an arm across the cushions behind you, his gaze flicking toward you with a smirk.

“Alright, be honest,” he muses his voice teasing, “Who do you think would take better care of you on a deserted island like that? Me or Austin?”

Austin exhales a quiet sigh, shaking his head, his voice smooth and knowing. “Callum, you’re setting yourself up.”

Callum grins wider. “No, I really want to hear the answer from her.”

You glance between them, your stomach flipping under the weight of their attention. “Austin,” you say, smiling, and he pulls you against him, pressing a kiss to your temple, his smirk deepening.

Callum laughs, undeterred. “Think about it though love. Who’s more resourceful? Hunting, gathering, building a shelter?…”

Austin grins in amusement, his blue eyes flickering with something more knowing. “Why would we compete to take care of her? He discerns, his tone suggestive. “When we could just work together?”

Callum chuckles in approval. “What, like a survival throuple?”

Austin grins. “Exactly, now you’re getting it.”

You roll your eyes shaking your head, but the way both of them begin to look at you sends a flutter through your stomach.

You’ve slowly begun to catch on that they’re planning something—you can feel it. The way Austin lets Callum push boundaries, the way Callum charms you at every chance… and the way Austin allows it all to happen.

On the final day of the visit you stand in front of the living room mirror, checking your out fit one last time, ready to head out for the night.

Callum, sits sprawled out on the couch, watching you with an easy grin, his eyes lingering , slow and easy, taking in every detail.

“You’re far too pretty to put up with Austin’s moods,” Callum teases as Austin groans, unable to find his favorite leather jacket.

You smile, brushing it off, but Callum’s confidence is unshakable.

“You know,” he leans forward, his voice dropping just enough to be enticing “If he gets into a really bad mood tonight, we can sneak off together, teach him a lesson for behaving that’ll make him never forget his manners.”

You shake your head grinning “You think you're the one to teach Austin a lesson on misbehaving ?” You counter.

Callum grins, slow and teasing. “Mmm I’d be so good at it.” He confirms.

You roll your eyes just as Austin finally finds his jacket, holding it up with a triumphant sigh.

“You two over there conspiring against me now?” he says, shrugging it on as he looks between you both.

“Maybe,” Callum muses, standing up and pulling the hem of his shirt.

Austin ignores him, adjusting the collar of his jacket with an exaggerated sigh. “Great. Now let’s get this over with.”

“The infamous Luis Vuitton Cruise show ” Callum muses, his grin widening.

Austin groans dramatically, already dreading it. “A high-end fashion event with nothing but paparazzi, practiced conversation, and people getting really into bizarre shit.” He exhales sharply.

Callum grins, completely at ease. “Oh, Austin I love that shit.” He confirms.

Austin shoots him a look breaking into a grin. “Of course you do.”

You smile enjoying their banter, and before you know it, Callum’s arm drapes around your shoulder smug and easy. “All I’m saying is, if Austin gets too grumpy during this, we can still sneak off together, yeah?” he says, his smile infectious.

You glance at Austin, waiting for his reaction but he just smirks, shaking his head as he grabs his phone. “You two are trouble.” He says, his voice amused.

The three of you step out of the car onto the stone entryway of the Salk Institute in La Jolla, the air crisp with ocean breeze, the sky streaked with hues of deep blue and gold as the sun begins to set.

The Louis Vuitton Cruise Show looms ahead, sleek and sophisticated, with floodlights illuminating the brutalist architecture, casting long, dramatic shadows over the crowd of fashion elites.

The atmosphere is filled with exclusivity, flashes from photographers, murmurs of stylists, and the ever-present hum of curated perfection.

Austin walks on your right, his fingers casually grazing your lower back as Callum stays on your left, looking effortlessly charming in his suit and tee, already scanning the scene with a knowing smirk.

You feel stunning, the pleated mini skirt Austin bought for you weeks ago moves with every step you take. Paired with your heels and a sleek top, you know you’ll turns heads the moment you step onto the scene especially with two handsome gentlemen escorting you.

And if you weren’t sure of it—Austin and Callum make it painfully obvious.

Callum’s eyes wander over your legs as he shakes his head. “You sure you want to take her in there, Austin?” he muses. “You’ll have to fight off half the room.”

Austin doesn’t even try to hide his smirk, but his gaze flicks down to your skirt again. He hasn’t stopped looking at it since you got in the car. And the way his eyes darken slightly tells you everything you need to know.

“She can do whatever she likes,” Austin muses, smoothly taking your hand in his. “Not my fault if people get distracted.”

Callum scoffs, tilting his head. “Austin you’re distracted.”

Austin huffs a short laugh, but doesn’t deny it.

As you approach the red carpet, your stomach flutters with anxiety, your pulse hammering in your ears.

The flashes of cameras are blinding, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and chatter, as celebrities and fashion elites move through the entryway.

Austin’s fingers tighten briefly in your hand, a silent reassurance, while Callum is at your side, adjusting the cuffs of his suit, looking completely at ease.

The photographers begin to call out, their voices overlapping—

“Austin! Over here!” “Look this way!” “Callum, give us a smile!”

You and Austin take the first set of photos together, his hand warm against your waist, his charisma in full effect.

He’s done this a thousand times before, his look effortless, and when he glances at you between flashes, there’s something else in his expression that shows his adoration for you.

Next, Callum steps up for his solo shots, his grin turning cheeky as he shifts between serious and playful poses. The energy around him shifts, he’s charming without trying, flashing a wink here, adjusting his stance there.

Finally, the three of you are called together, and Callum immediately changes the tone, stepping between you and Austin with an exaggerated flourish, wrapping an arm around both of you.

“C’mon, let’s give them a show,” he teases, leaning in slightly.

Austin shakes his head, clearly entertained. “You’re a menace.”

Callum smirks. “And yet, you invite me places.”

With one last series of flashes, the photographers thank you, and you step off the red carpet, the moment settling in.

Inside, the ambiance is even more exclusive. The Salk Institute’s brutalist architecture contrasts sharply with the elegance of the show. Spotlights cast dramatic beams over the sleek runway, the seats lined with luxury invitations perfectly arranged.

The three of you take your seats front row, surrounded by other celebrities, designers, and fashion insiders.

As the show starts, the Louis Vuitton Collection is displayed with sharp, avant garde silhouettes, intricate embroidery, and flowing structured fabrics.

Models strut confidently along the minimalist runway, the music pulsating through the space.

Champagne flutes appear before you, served on silver trays, and you quickly realize, you won’t have an empty glass the entire night.

Austin sits beside you, his arms resting across his chest, his legs crossed. He occasionally leans in, speaking softly against your ear, small remarks about the designs, the lighting, the people around you.

Callum is thoroughly enjoying himself. He sips his champagne slowly, watching the show with genuine appreciation, occasionally gesturing toward a look he likes. At one point, he nudges you, whispering, “That one, I could easily see you in that one.”

You roll your eyes but smile feeling a warmth spreading through your chest.

Between the rich ambiance, endless flow of champagne, and the presence of both men beside you, you can’t help but feel it—tonight is the beginning of something.

And by the way Austin keeps glancing toward you, and Callum’s smirk lingers just a second too long, you know they feel it too.

After the show when you arrive back home, the three of you step into the house, the cool air inside a stark contrast to the lingering warmth of the night.

The Louis Vuitton show had been an experience, intoxicating in more ways than one.

The endless champagne, the flashing cameras, the whispered conversations with designers and celebrities. And now, as you sway slightly in the dimly lit entryway, you realize just how much champagne you had.

A quiet giggle escapes your lips as you reach out, steadying yourself by placing a hand on Austin and Callum’s shoulders.

Austin smirks, catching the movement instantly. “Someone’s had a little too much fun tonight,” he says, his hands instinctively coming to your waist, steadying you.

Callum chuckles, his tone more matter of fact.“Or just too much champagne,” he teases, his eyes flicking over to Austin.

You exhale a slow breath, your fingers tightening slightly on their shoulders for balance as Austin kneels down first, his hands trailing over your calf before he begins unbuckling one of your heels. His touch slow and careful.

Callum follows suit, kneeling on the other side, his fingers easily working on the strap of your other heel. His thumb grazing along the inside of your ankle.

“You guys are —so nice,” you mumble, your voice slightly drunk as you look down at them.

Austin huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he slips the heel from your foot setting it aside. “Yeah? Keep sweet-talking us, baby.”

Callum smirks up at you, his fingers lingering against your skin a second too long, tilting his head slightly as he slides the second heel off.

Your cheeks burn under their attention, and you suddenly feel very aware of how intimate this is. The two of them kneeled before you, their hands on your legs, the air between you thick with something else.

Austin rises first, standing close, his hands smoothing up your sides, his blue eyes locked onto yours. “You okay, baby?” he asks, his voice low, intimate, a quiet promise lingering in the way he looks at you.

Callum follows, standing beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

They exchange a look—something silent, something intentional.

Your breath catches as you glance between them, the air in the entryway suddenly heavy, pressing in from all sides. The space feels smaller, the air charged under the weight of their attention.

“I’m okay,” you manage, though your voice is softer now, breathier.

Austin tilts his head, studying you, his gaze dropping to your lips then slowly he leans in and kisses you, his lips warm and soft, tasting faintly of champagne.

The moment Austin’s hand slides down your back, you feel Callum’s touch.

His fingers ghost along your waist, his breath warm at your neck before he presses his lips on you too, the contrast of them sending a surge of pleasure through you so impossibly good it feels sinful.

A quiet gasp escapes your lips, your body pressed between them as they move in unison—Austin claiming your lips, Callum kissing down your neck.

Austin’s hand roams lower, slipping past the waistband of your skirt, the heat of his palm pressing firmly between your legs.

He takes his time, his fingers moving with slow, deliberate pressure, teasing your clit through the fabric. He watches you closely, his lips hovering over yours, waiting for your reaction.

Your breath hitches, your body softening at the sensation, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

His hand slips into your panties, his fingers sliding over your slickness finding you completely soaked, your wetness coating his fingertips as he groans softly against your lips

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze darkened as he easily pushes two fingers inside of you, watching every catch of your breath, every shiver that rolls through your body.

Your lips part in a soft moan feeling the press of his knuckles as his fingers settle deep inside, the pleasure immediate, undeniable.

The sound catches Callum’s attention, and he pulls back just enough to see your reaction.

Austin’s fingers move in slow, precise thrusts within you, his lips brushing against yours as he kisses you again.

Callum’s hands moves to your top pulling down the hem, his hand gliding over your chest before moving lower and cupping your breast firmly.

His mouth is hot against your skin as he lowers his head, his tongue flicking your nipple, drawing sharp gasps from you.

You barely have time to react before he draws your nipple into his mouth his tongue circling it with firm strokes.

Your breath stutters, your knees nearly buckling as Austin works you open from below while Callum takes his time above, both of them completely in sync, completely focused on you.

Your fingers grip onto Austin’s shoulders, then Callum’s hair, needing to hold onto something as pleasure swells inside you, making you weak.

You try to stay upright, but with every touch, every kiss, every press of their hands and mouths—standing becomes impossible.

Your knees tremble, thighs clenching around Austin’s hand as his fingers thrust deeper, slick with evidence of just how easily you’re surrendering to them.

Callum hums against your chest, his lips sucking your nipple firmer as his tongue rolls in slow, deliberate strokes. He groans as he sucks, pulling with greedy satisfaction, his teeth grazing just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure down your spine.

The sensation coils tightly inside you, winding you up, making your breath hitch in soft, helpless little gasps.

Austin watches you intently, his blue eyes dark, focused, enthralled by every shudder, every whimper slipping from your lips.

His free hand rests heavy on your hip, keeping you exactly where he wants as he begins to curl his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect place over and over until your body convulses around him. “That’s it baby—give it to us.” He encourages thrusting faster.

Your moan is barely a sound, more of a breathless, strangled cry as the pleasure crashes over you. Your thighs squeeze around Austin’s wrist, your body locking up as your orgasm tears through you. Callum pulls back just enough to watch, his lips parting as he sees how helpless you are.

“Just, look at her,” Callum breathes, his fingers sliding up your side as he takes in the way you tremble, your body consumed with pleasure. “She looks so fucking pretty when she comes.”

Austin slows the movement of his hand, dragging out every last moment before withdrawing his fingers now glistening.

He lifts them to your lips, watching as you part instinctively, tasting yourself on them.

“Good girl,” Austin praises, his voice smooth as he brushes his thumb against your lower lip, his eyes dark with intent.

Then he glances over at Callum, something unspoken passing between them before his gaze returns to you, heavy and full of meaning.

“Come to bed,” he says to both of you, his voice low and certain.

Your eyes widen, flicking to Callum, whose smirk deepens with knowing amusement as Austin offers you his hand.

Callum watches, waiting for you to decide—waiting for you to step into whatever comes next.

And as your fingers slide into Austin’s palm, Callum’s hand grazes the small of your back, the three of you heading to the bedroom together as you realize—

They’ve planned this all along.

Austin guides you and in and Callum closes the door behind you knowing this is exactly what they have been waiting for.

The bed dips on either side as the three of you lay down together.

The warmth of them surrounds you as Austin places a soft kiss on your left wrist and Callum presses against your right side trailing his lips along the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

The room is dim, but the heat between the three of you is undeniable. Austin’s hand trails along your arm, his touch slow and delicate, as Callum,breathes against you, his lips grazing your jawline.

“Relax for us baby,” Austin says, his voice low and steady.

Callum’s voice follows, softer, teasing. “We’ve been waiting all week for this,” he admits, his fingers tracing the back of your hand. “Tell us you want this too.”

Your heart races, your body humming with anticipation as you glance between them. Austin’s eyes are filled with something intuitive, something reassuring, but Callum’s are far darker, searching, waiting.

Austin tilts your chin up, his thumb brushing along your bottom lip. “We’ll only do this if you want to,” he admits, his gaze flicking toward Callum briefly.

Your breath is shallow, lips parting instinctively as your gaze shifts between them. “I—” Your voice catches, the reality of the moment crashing over you. “I want this”

Austin grins kissing you immediately, his lips pressing against yours with a reassurance that melts away any hesitation.

Then you feel Callum, impossibly close his breath ghosts over your cheek before Austin pulls back just enough to let Callum’s lips linger near yours.

Callum hesitates, watching you, as if waiting for permission. Austin smirks slightly, his voice playful but firm. “She’s already thinking about it.” He says.

Callum doesn’t need to be told twice, his lips collide with yours, different from Austin, hungrier, firmer, coaxing. The contrast between them sends a shiver down your spine, and when Austin’s lips move to your neck, your mind blanks completely.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” Callum murmurs against your lips, his accent thick and rough. His hand settles on your waist, fingers curling slightly. “Knew you’d be trouble.”

Austin chuckles against your skin. “She’s the best kind of trouble.” He says as his lips press just below your ear. “And now she’s ours.”

Callum’s hand slides over your waist, fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. “I want to see all of you.” He says.

Austin’s fingers brush your cheek before trailing down your collarbone, his voice a low murmur against your skin. “Let’s get you out of this, baby.” He says hooking his fingers under the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one smooth motion, the fabric slipping away effortlessly, leaving your skin bare to them.

Austins hands drift lower, tracing the curve of your waist before finding the hem of your pleated mini skirt. His fingers hook beneath the fabric, and with one fluid motion, he tugs down your panties and skirt together, the soft material gliding over your hip and down your thighs until it’s tossed aside.

Austin gaze darken as he takes you in and Callum leans back slightly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you filled with lust.

“Fuck,” Callum exhales, running a hand down your thigh, his pupils blown wide. “Austin, shes perfect.”

Austin smirks, his hands sliding down your sides. “I know” he says.

Callum’s hands join Austin’s, his touch unfamiliar but electrifying as he traces along your ribcage. You shiver under their attention, the feeling of four hands exploring your skin leaving you breathless.

Your hands reach for them instinctively, finding the hem of Callum’s shirt first. You slide it up, and he grins, before tugging it over his head.

The moment his chest is exposed, your breath catches—he’s even more defined than you expected, strong and solid, his skin warm under your fingertips. You run your hands over his broad shoulders, his muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Austin, pulls his own shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Your eyes flick between them, your hands touching both of them instinctively trailing over the contrast—Austin’s familiar, muscular form and Callum’s broader, slightly rougher build. Your fingers explore the dips and lines of their chests, the heat of them making your head spin.

“Do you like this?” Austin teases, his lips brushing your ear as his hands slide down your arm.

Callum smirks, watching your stunned reaction. “I think she does.” His voice dips lower as his fingers tilt your chin up.“But I want to hear you say it.”

Your lips part, your body already trembling under their attention. “I love it,” you whisper, your fingers pressing into their skin. “I love everything about this.”

Austin’s mouth lowers onto yours as Callum’s lips find the soft spot just below your jaw, and as their hands move over you, exploring, claiming, you realize just how much they’ve been waiting for this, and just how much you want it, too.

Callum moves closer, his breath hot against the nape of your neck. His large hands start at your waist, his thumbs pressing into the dips of your hips before slowly gliding upward, exploring the curves of your ribs and the soft swell of your breasts.

His palms are rougher than Austin’s, his touch more possessive, his fingers kneading teasingly. “You’re so soft,” he whispers, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You gasp against Austin’s lips as Callum’s fingers roll over your nipples, pinching lightly, just enough to send a jolt of pleasure shooting through you.

Austin smirks against your mouth, feeling the way you react. “You like this so much don’t you?” he teases, and you nod as his hand slides up, cupping your other breast firmly. The hardness of his cock pressing against your thigh telling you just how much he’s enjoying this too.

Callum’s hand moves lower, tracing over your hip, his fingertips skimming the space between your thighs. You whimper as he parts your legs slightly, his fingertips grazing against your heat.

“Fuck, she’s already so wet,” he groans, his voice laced with both awe and satisfaction.

He strokes slowly, gathering your arousal on his fingers then spreading it over your swollen clit in teasing circles.

Austin pulls back slightly, tilting your chin so you meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, filled with lust as he watches you tremble between them. “You feel good baby?” he asks softly, his thumbs stroking your chin.

Your breath is shallow, your body humming with pleasure as Callum continues to tease you. “Yes,” you gasp “I’m so good.”

Austin grins, his lips brushing over yours before he moves lower, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your nipple.

Callum, presses his hard cock against your hip, his lips warm and teasing as he leans in to kiss you passionately. His fingers between your legs move with more purpose, pressing into you just enough to make you whimper.

“Listen to her,” Callum groans, his lips curling into a smirk against yours. “She sounds so fucking pretty when she moans.”

Austin grins, his tongue swirling around your nipple lightly. “That’s because she’s perfect,” he says, his voice vibrating against your skin.

Callum groans in agreement, his hand tightening on your waist as his fingers stroke deeper, each touch making you tremble more.

“She’s ours tonight.” Callum says as his fingers move with agonizing precision, his strokes slow and deliberate as he spreads your slickness over your sensitive clit before sliding down, teasing your entrance.

His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, “You’re so fucking wet you’re dripping for us.” His tone is dark, edged with satisfaction as he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them just right, pressing against a spot that makes your whole body spasm.

Austin hums against your skin at your reaction, his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking lightly before flicking his tongue over the hardened peak.

His free hand cups your other breast, kneading gently, his thumb rolling over your nipple before pinching it lightly. His movements are slow, sensual, designed to draw every reaction out of you as he teases and torments, alternating between soft licks and firmer sucks.

Callum’s fingers work you open, his pace maddeningly steady, stroking deep, curling inside you with every thrust. His lips trace the line of your jaw as his fingers press against the perfect spot that has you falling apart as your hips writhe in pleasure . “I can feel you clenching around me. You’re so close, aren’t you?”

You nod panting as your hips roll instinctively against his hand. As you begin to moan loudly Austin pulls away just enough to watch your face, his lips glistening as he grins in satisfaction. “She’s going to come.” He confirms.

Callum chuckles against your skin, as his fingers thrust deeper, his thumb pressing circles over your clit. “Come on, love,” he coaxes, his voice husky, his breath fanning against your cheek. “Let go for us. Let us see you come.”

Austin’s mouth closes around your nipple again sucking harder as his teeth nip lightly on the sensitive peak sending another surge of pleasure straight to your core.

The combined sensations are too much—Callum’s relentless fingers working inside you, Austin’s warm, wet mouth sucking your nipple, the deep, commanding sounds of their voices unraveling every last thread of your restraint.

Your body tenses, the pleasure cresting like a wave as a choked gasp escapes your lips.

Your thighs tremble as you orgasm your body shuddering from the intensity. “That’s it love,” Callum groans, his fingers not letting up, working you through every last tremor. “So fucking beautiful.”

Austin watches you with dark, hungry eyes, his mouth leaving your nipple to press hot kisses up your throat. “So perfect, baby,” he murmurs, soothing you as your body trembles between them.

Callum slows his movements, his fingers slipping out of you with a satisfied hum. He brings them to his lips, his eyes locked on yours as he licks them clean. “You taste incredible,” he praises, his expression full of sinful delight.

Austin smirks, kissing your lips softly, his voice full of pride. “And we’re just getting started.”

Austin presses one last lingering kiss against your lips before guiding you up gently, his hands on your waist as he shifts you to kneel in the middle of the bed between them.

Your body is still trembling from the pleasure they’ve already given you, your mind hazy, dizzy with arousal as Austin’s voice, low and firm, pulls you back into focus.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking lazy circles over your hips as he positions you between them. “You’re going to make both of us feel as good as we just made you feel.”

You’re delirious with pleasure, as they leave the bed to undress your body humming with heat as you watch them, unable to form words.

They’re movement are hypnotic as they pull off their pants and boxers.

Austin body is sculpted, carved from years of dedication, his smooth skin taut over his defined muscles. His cock stands thick and firm, flushed a deep, eager pink, the tip already glistening with precum. Hes impossibly hard, the veins along his shaft prominent and pulsing with need.

Callum, in contrast, is built broader, his chest and shoulders more solid, his thighs thick and powerful. His cock is darker, a shade richer against his paler skin, with a heavy weight to it, the curve of it distinct as he strokes himself, his grip tight.

They stand before you, both, naked both hard, both utterly focused on you. The air is charged with heat and anticipation, the weight of the moment settling in your chest as your thighs press together instinctively and Austin smirks catching the movement.

“You like what you see, baby?” He says as he kneels beside you on the bed, his fingers grazing along your jaw, tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes.

Callum chuckles lowly, his voice teasing as he settles on the other side of you, his body radiating heat.

“She definitely does,” he muses, his smirk widening. “You can see it all over her face.”

Austin runs his hand down the curve of your back, his touch soothing. “You look so fucking perfect like this,” he praises and as Callum touches you too they both trail their hands lower taking turns to glide their fingers through your wetness, spreading your arousal with slow, teasing strokes.

A soft whimper escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Callum as he tilts your chin up and kisses you hard, his lips demanding, his tongue slipping past your teeth with a hunger that makes your knees weak.

Callum brings his fingers slick with your arousal back around his cock, stroking himself firmly as he groans into your mouth.

Austin, hums at the sight, his fingers still sliding through your slickness, rubbing slow, teasing circles against your clit before slipping two fingers inside you again. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes, his voice thick with lust. “You’re dripping down your thighs.”

Callum breaks the kiss just enough to smirk, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “She’s ready for us,” he grins, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with heat and anticipation. “Aren’t you,love?”

You nod, breathless, barely able to think past the heat racing through your core.

Callum strokes his heavy cock harder his eyes watching you with a dark, knowing smirk. “You ready for me, love?” he asks, his accent making the words sound even filthier.

You nod and he grips the base of his cock, holding it steady as Austin slips his fingers from you to hold your waist. “Show us, baby,” he urges, his voice full of command and affection. “Make Callum feel just as good as you feel.”

Austin lowers you onto your hands and knees, your body still trembling from their touch, the heat between you all heavy with anticipation.

Callum smirks, his grip tightening around the base of his cock as he pulls your face closer. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs guiding his cock closer to your lips.

Austin moves behind you, his hands sliding down your back, guiding you into position as he kneels behind you on the bed.

“That’s it, baby,” Austin murmurs, his voice laced with praise as he runs his hands over the curve of your hips, gripping them firmly. “You’re gonna take us both so well.”

Callum’s fingers tilt your chin up, his smirk deepening as he watches the way you kneel waiting for them. “Open up for me, love,” he says, with intent. “Let me feel that pretty mouth of yours.”

You obey, your lips parting and slowly he pushes the head of his cock in, warm and wet as your lips wrap around it.

Your tongue swirls around the tip before your cheeks hallow and you take him deeper. Callum lets out a satisfied groan, his hand tangling in your hair as he guides you, his grip firm.

“Fuck, that’s perfect,” he breathes, his hips barely rolling forward as he watches you. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

Behind you, Austin squeezes your hip as he rubs his tip along your slick entrance, teasing you, making you whimper around Callum’s cock the vibrations sending a shudder through him.

“She likes it,” Austin reveals, rubbing his cock against you again, coating himself in your arousal. “You’re so fucking ready for us aren’t you, baby.”

You moan softly, pushing back against him, desperate for more, and that’s all the encouragement he needs. Austin presses forward, his thick cock stretching you slowly, filling you inch by inch until he’s buried deep inside you.

A moan escapes you, overwhelmed by the sensation of being taken by both of them.

“That’s my girl” Austin groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he begins to move, thrusting slow and deep, his cock hitting all the right places with every roll of his hips.

Callum watches the way your eyes flutter, the way you moan around his cock as you work him with slow, eager sucks. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his voice filled with pleasure. “Taking both of us like a dream.”

The rhythm between the two of them builds, the room filled with the sound of their heavy breaths, low groans, and the wet, lewd sounds of them fucking you at both ends.

Austin’s thrusts grow deeper, more intense, his grip on your hips tightening as he drives into you.

Callum’s hand remains tangled in your hair, his hips rolling as he matches the pace of Austin, his pleasure evident in every deep, guttural moan he lets out.

“You’re fucking perfect,” Austin praises, his hands sliding up your back, his fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts into you harder. “So tight—so fucking wet for us.”

Callum groans, his voice low and strained. “She loves this,” he breathes, his grip on your hair tightening as his hips jerk forward. “She’s so desperate for our come, aren’t you, love?”

You whimper around him, completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure, your body shared between them as wave after wave of ecstasy roll through you.

Every movement, every thrust, every deep groan sends you spiraling further into bliss, your mind hazy, consumed by nothing but the way they both feel inside you, the way they own every inch of you.

Austin pace becomes unrelenting, his cock hitting the deepest, most perfect spot inside you with every thrust as you moan around Callum in bliss.

“Come for us baby,” Austin groans as his hand finds your swollen throbbing clit. “Make us all come.”

His fingers press in slow, relentless circles, amplifying the pleasure coursing through your body. The sensation is overwhelming, your walls tightening on Austin’s cock as your moans vibrate on Callum’s.

Both of their hips stutter forward, Callum’s grip tightening in your hair as he groans dangerously close to spilling over.

Your pleasure peaks as your body clenches tight, every muscle tensing as your orgasm crashes over you, forcing a strangled moan in your mouth around Callum’s cock.

The sensation is too much, too perfect, and Austin groans deeply, his thrusts faltering as he feels your wall tighten around him.

Your nails dig into the sheets being thrust hard between both of them as they use you to come, your mind blanking with nothing more than the overwhelming sensation.

“Fuck, baby,” Austin groans, his hands digging into your hips as he drives into you hard spilling inside you with a guttural moan.

Callum watches you, feeling the way you moan in pleasure as Austin comes inside you and that’s all it takes to send him over the edge.

His grip on your hair tightens, his body tensing as he lets out a deep, strained groan, his release thick and hot as he holds you in place and spills into your mouth feeling you swallow around his cock taking every last drop.

They both pull out of you at the same time, the room filled with nothing but heavy breathing, the three of you completely consumed by each other.

Austin lifts you back against him, his strong arms wrapping around you as his lips trail lingering, soft kisses along your neck.

His hands move lower to grip your hips, grounding you as his thumbs gently caresses slow, soothing circles over your skin, easing the trembling aftershocks still coursing through your body.

Callum leans in his breath still uneven as he brushes his lips over your jaw. “Took everything we gave you like you were made for us.” he whispers, his fingers sliding through your hair as he places a soft kiss.

“You were so fucking perfect, baby,” Austin whispers, his voice low and full of praise.

Callum smirks as he lays back against the pillows, his chest still heaving. Your body trembles, completely spent, your breath still coming in short, uneven gasps as Austin lowers you on the bed.

Every muscle in your body is weak, pleasure still pulsing through you in slow, rolling waves. Austin pulls you into his arms, his strong embrace wrapping around you.

His lips find your ear first, warm and soft, whispering against your skin. “You were incredible,” he praises full of affection. “So fucking perfect for us.” He says kissing you just below your jaw, then lower, trailing soft kisses down the curve of your neck, his breath warm as he soothes you with gentle touches.

Callum shifts against your other side, his body just as warm and solid behind you. His lips brush along your shoulder, slow and lazy, savoring every inch of you.

“You’re something else, love,” he murmurs, his voice rich with admiration. “Didn’t know you had that in you… but fuck, I’m glad I found out.” He grins, his lips moving in soft, teasing kisses along your shoulder as his fingers trace over your back.

Austin chuckles softly, tucking your hair behind your ear as he kisses your temple. “Tired?” he asks knowingly, his hand rubbing slow circles on your hip.

You nod weakly, barely able to keep your eyes open as exhaustion washes over you. “Mm-hmm,” you hum, melting into his embrace.

Callum smirks against your shoulder, his hand smoothing over your back. “Poor thing,” he teases, his voice laced with amusement. “We might’ve been a little too rough on her.”

Austin grins, pressing another kiss to your cheek. “No, she took us so well.” He says bringing the blanket over you and pulling you closer against him. “Just rest baby. We’ve got you.”

Callum sighs contentedly, his arm draping lazily over your waist as he nestles against your neck. “Yeah, sleep now love, because next round—I’m not holding back.” He grins.

“Guess we’ll have to keep her just between us.” Austin confirms and Callum hums in agreement.

You let out a soft, sleepy sigh, too exhausted to even respond, your body completely relaxed between them as you drift into the deepest, most satisfied sleep of your life.

END 💙💖💙

🔗 MasterList

🏷️ Always Tag Me

@purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @psycheetamore @soft-mama-reads @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @gyratingpresley @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader/3 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @stars-remain2 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @missjadesticsreblog @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff

[arxiwon]

Frozen Hearts, Warm Hands (The Thaw) | psh

Pairing: park sunghoon x reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: 1k

Synopsis

Loving Sunghoon was like holding ice in your hands—cold, distant, and painful. But beneath his frosty exterior, there was warmth meant only for you. When a misunderstanding threatens to pull you apart, will his pride let him lose you, or will he finally let himself melt in your arms?

The first thing you learned about Sunghoon was that he wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. He wasn’t cold out of cruelty—he was just careful. Careful with his words, careful with his emotions, careful with his heart.

But tonight, he was being too careful. Too silent. Too distant.

You sat across from him in his dorm, watching as he scrolled through his phone, pretending he wasn’t ignoring you. The only sound in the room was the soft hum of the heater, but it did nothing to thaw the ice between you.

“Sunghoon,” you finally broke the silence, your voice softer than you intended.

He didn’t look up. “Hm?”

Your heart clenched. You knew this side of him—when he shut himself off, when he kept everything bottled up like he was afraid of saying too much. But this time, you couldn’t take it.

“You’ve been distant lately,” you whispered. “Did I… do something wrong?”

That made him pause. His fingers hovered over his phone screen before he finally sighed, tossing it onto the couch. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he rarely showed.

“It’s not you,” he muttered. “It’s me.”

The dreaded words.

Your stomach twisted, but you refused to back down. “Then tell me what’s wrong, Hoon. Don’t just push me away.”

Sunghoon clenched his jaw. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted. His voice was low, almost fragile. “I don’t know how to… talk about things like this.”

Your heart ached. You reached out, hesitating for a moment before taking his cold hands in yours. He flinched slightly at the warmth but didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to know how,” you whispered. “You just have to try.”

He looked at you then—really looked at you. His dark eyes, usually so guarded, flickered with something unreadable. Fear? Vulnerability?

“I’m scared,” he finally admitted, voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. “Scared of saying the wrong thing. Scared of losing you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You had never heard him sound so… small.

“Sunghoon,” you breathed, squeezing his hands. “You’re not going to lose me. But if you keep shutting me out like this… I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”

The pain in his eyes was instant. He swallowed hard, as if the thought of losing you physically hurt him. Then, without warning, he pulled you into his arms.

It wasn’t one of those soft, hesitant hugs. It was desperate. Tight. Like he was holding onto you for dear life. His face buried in your neck, and you felt his warm breath against your skin.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he murmured.

Your arms wrapped around him just as tightly. “Then don’t push me away anymore.”

For the first time in a long time, Sunghoon let himself melt. Not all at once—but just enough to let you in.

And for now, that was enough.

The morning after your emotional talk, you woke up to an unusual sight—Sunghoon was still there, curled up next to you on the couch, his face relaxed in sleep.

It wasn’t often that you got to see him like this—unguarded, peaceful, warm. His long eyelashes rested against his cheek, his lips slightly parted as he breathed evenly. His arm was still loosely wrapped around you, as if he was afraid you’d disappear the moment he let go.

You tried to move, but the slight shift made his hold tighten.

“Where are you going?” his voice was groggy, rough with sleep. His eyes were still half-closed, but the way his fingers curled around your wrist sent warmth through your chest.

“I was just going to get up,” you whispered. “You should go back to sleep.”

He hummed in response, nuzzling his face against your shoulder. “Stay. Just a little longer.”

Your heart melted.

Sunghoon never initiated things like this. He was always reserved, always holding himself back. But now? He was holding you instead, as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

So you stayed.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft rhythm of his breathing. Then, just when you thought he had fallen asleep again, his voice broke through the quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “For pushing you away.”

You looked down at him, running your fingers gently through his hair. “I know. And I’m not mad at you, Hoon. I just want you to talk to me more.”

He sighed, his grip loosening slightly. “I’m not good at that,” he admitted. “But I’ll try. I want to try.”

A soft smile curled at your lips. “That’s all I need.”

Sunghoon lifted his head slightly, looking at you with eyes still hazy from sleep but filled with something you hadn’t seen before—certainty.

“I love you,” he said.

It was quiet. Simple. Not dressed in grand gestures or dramatic confessions. Just raw, honest words from a boy who was still learning how to express his heart.

And yet, it was enough to make your breath catch.

You cupped his cheek gently, brushing your thumb over his skin. “I love you too.”

For the first time in a long time, Sunghoon smiled. It was small, barely there—but it was real.

And as he pulled you closer, pressing a hesitant kiss to your forehead, you knew—Sunghoon wasn’t cold.

He was just someone who needed time to thaw.

[alaia777]

CONGRATULATIONS FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!! <333 IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU AND THANK YOU FOR THIS EVENT 🙏😈

id appreciate if you could do one with Rin and the prompt being:

⊹ i love your attention, but i love peace and quiet more—so hush.

Please make it fluff🙏🙏😭 (you can ignore this if you want but I'd appreciate it if you could add a little scene where Rin kisses the reader to shut them up 🤭)

thank you so so much. this was so fun to write, i hope you like it !!!! 🩷🩷🩷

it was the first time in months that you woke up before rin, and for some reason, today felt different. maybe it was the rare burst of energy that had you up at 6 a.m., already done with your routine, stretching like one of those influencers who post their “productive morning” videos. maybe it was the quiet stillness of the morning, the kind that made you want to savor it.

by the time the city started to wake, you’d already been out—grabbing coffee and pastries from the shop that opened early, spending some time at the park near your apartment, even feeding the pigeons like an old soul with too much free time. and yet, when you stepped back inside, your boyfriend was still exactly where you left him—fast asleep, completely undisturbed.

not that you blamed him. waking up too early, coming home too late—rin had been running on empty for weeks. you figured it had finally caught up to him.

so by 7:30, with nothing else to do, you settled onto the couch, coffee in hand, scrolling through your phone, catching up on the latest influencer drama like it was the morning news.

when you heard the duvet rustling in your shared bedroom, you were already on your feet, making your way over before rin could even sit up. he was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when you jumped onto the bed, grinning.

“good morning, baby cakes.” even with his hand over his face, you could tell he was rolling his eyes.

“why are you up so early?” he muttered, his voice still rough from sleep.

“because the early bird catches the worm, and i caught us some warm, delicious pastries.” you paused, then sighed. “well, they were warm.”

“but that doesn’t matter. you know that drama about that woman on the internet i told you about? yeah, there’s more.”

without waiting for a response, you launched into the latest updates, detailing every twist and turn—what she did, the backlash, the people involved, and why the internet was in chaos over it. rin, still half-asleep, stared at you with a blank expression, his eyes barely open as he listened in silence.

“but wait—there’s more,” you added dramatically, climbing into his lap and cupping his face between your hands, determined to make sure he was paying attention.

he let out a slow exhale, clearly questioning all of his life choices. “i love your attention, but i love peace and quiet more—so hush.” his hand came up, covering your face as if that would be enough to stop you.

you audibly gasped, prying his hand away. “first of all, rude. second of all—” you sat up straighter, regaining your composure. “as i was saying, she was bragging about her designer bags while her kids don’t even have beds—”

you didn’t even get to finish, because rin’s hands were on your cheeks, pulling you in, cutting you off with a kiss—not to be sweet, not to be romantic, but purely to get you to stop talking.

your brain stalled for a second, words failing you as you processed what just happened, and when you finally snapped out of it, you caught the slightest smirk tugging at his lips. that little shit.

“rin, you need to brush your teeth.”

his smirk instantly dropped as he rolled his eyes, shoving you off him with zero hesitation before dragging himself out of bed and heading for the bathroom. you barely had time to laugh before the sound of the door closing echoed through the room, leaving you alone, victorious.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Bro, I really need, please, Mustaine from Woodstock, tired, to make me give him a blowjob (roughly), please

A/n: I think I peaked with this fic

Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), size kink, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You loved your boyfriend, not just because he was hot but because he was genuinely the sweetest man; he'd help you make food, he'd cook when you were sick, he'd help clean the house, he loved you so purely. However, he was still really fucking hot.

You sat at the sidelines of the stage, eyeing him closely in his plain white tank and light grey sweats. You loved every inch of him, and there were a lot of inches.

Dave was taller than you by quite a bit, he'd always use you as an arm rest. If he had to squeeze past you in the kitchen he'd grab your hips and move you himself, if you had trouble reaching something he'd more often than not just lift you up instead of getting it himself.

He knew how much you loved his muscles, and he went out of his way to remind you of them.

His long hair was frizzy, having not washed it in a few days, tours were always like this. It didn't matter to you much, he still looked gorgeous in your eyes, the light glinting off his plush lips. God blessed this white man a full set, and not just referring to his lips.

The tank was tight, stretching over his chest, perky nipples making small shadows. His broad shoulders and firm muscles had your gaze for a while, but nothing compared to his sweats.

They were baggy, sure, but that didn't stop you from finding the little details. He wore them because they were comfortable, never having been one for fashion, and he was definitely comfortable.

You were at the perfect angle to see his cock swinging around in the loose fabric.Dave really didn't move about the stage much, but you caught it every time, every little shift it's where your eyes went first.

You loved watching Megadeth performing, not just for Dave, but watching Dave had your panties getting slick.

You didn't stay for the encore, rushing to his dressing room. You waited on the couch, hand moving eagerly as you waited but it wasn't enough. Thinking of Dave just made you want him more, you wanted him to fuck you so good and deep, you didn't want to walk for a month, you'd get on stage with him if it meant getting his dick faster.

All those eyes on you, watching how good he made you feel, watching you come undone while his fingers worked away on the six strings.

Finally the door opened and Dave smiled at you, letting out a heavy sigh as he sulked over and plopped down beside you. "Needy, darling?" He asked, though it was more of statement. You nodded nonetheless and leaned into him.

"Need it so bad, Davie." You mused, not hesitating to reach for his clothed cock. He let out a low groan as you palmed him, kissing your temple.

"Can you do it? The work, I mean... I'm tired." His words were mumbled but he could see how desperate you were, and who was he to deny you when you looked at him like that.

You nodded, biting your lip as you slipped off the couch onto your knees in front of him. Dave spread his legs and lifted his hips so you could get his sweats off. Of course he'd gone commando.

His half hard cock sprung free, kind of, it stood up but it was just as tired as the rest of him. Dave let out a heavy sigh as you stroked him, his head falling back onto the couch, his arms resting on the back cushions as well.

It was times like this when you felt the smallest, any time you were intimate really. You always knew you were smaller than him, but when he was hovering over you, trailing kisses down your body, when his fingers were buried deep, tickling inside you. Times when he made you see heaven and back, that's when you felt the smallest, and he was oh so big and protective. Just the thought had you clenching around nothing.

You eagerly took the girthy, blushing tip into your mouth, wrapping your lips around him. He'd worn down your gag reflex but you still usually started slow. Not tonight, you buried your nose in his ginger fluff at the hilt, inhaling deeply all the sweat that had gathered there.

You almost didn't want to move, happy to just cock warm him, but you wanted to watch his slit leaking with cum. You went fast, as fast as you could go without snapping your neck, not that you'd be apposed to going out this way. Your tongue swirling around him, tracing the veins along the underside.

God, you could do this all day just to hear his pretty little sounds. "Fuck, just-just like that." He purred, his head rolling back again when he tried to look down at you. His cheeks were flushed, pink leading down his neck.

You brought your hand up, fingers dipping under the hem of his shirt. You pushed it up, revealing his toned stomach, though he was relaxed and therefore just a little pudgy. Your fingers found his chest, cupping it just like he did with your tits, and just like he did with your tits, you started toying with his nipple, finally getting what you'd been wanting since he got on stage.

The lights weren't on him anymore, this was as real as he could be; eyes lidded, lips parted slightly as soft moans filtered past them. Dave's breathing was heavy, you did nothing to slow your pace.

Dave brought his own hand up to his chest, pinching and rolling his other nipple with his calloused fingers. It was enough to make you cum, if only. It definitely had an affect on him, his moans getting higher and his hips rolled up, pushing his cock further down your throat.

He couldn't stop, so close to cumming and everything was feeling so good, your lips wrapped around his girth, tongue moving on him, fingers on his chest. He was pulsing down your throat, so close.

Dave used his free hand to tug on your hair, forcefully pulling you away. His hand took over the role of your mouth, moving faster than you could. You heard the soft, whiny little breaths he let out, tears welling in his eyes as his hips bucked helplessly into his hand, aching for release.

His breath caught in his throat and cum shot from his pre-leaking slit, landing on your face or the floor. His eyes fluttered and his jaw dropped in ecstasy.

His hand fell from his now limp dick and he fell back onto the couch, his breathing heavy and his body spent. You stood up, crawling onto the couch and straddling his lap.

"You made a mess~" You purred, kissing him tenderly.

He moaned into the kiss, hands finding your hips and resting there. "Guess it's time for a shower, huh?" He mumbled against you, barely pulling away from the kiss.

"Finally." You teased, he gave your ass a gentle pat.

[promptedwordsmith]

Might I HUMBLY request Xavier x reader where he’s all pouty because you’ve been busy with work and ignoring him and you accidentally raise your voice at him because he keeps trying to speak to you but ur busy and he starts crying. Yup. I’d like to order that meal please I live for crybaby Xavier 🏃🏽‍♀️💨

Hi! I love this I put my spin on crying Xavier because he is my no.1 pookie and he seems to me like the type that cries whe he annoyed or feels wronged (because I do)

Xavier sat on the couch, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the back of your head as if he could will you to turn around and finally look at him. He had been patient—remarkably patient, in his opinion—but after hours of watching you hunched over your computer, completely ignoring his presence, his patience was wearing dangerously thin.

He had tried everything to get your attention. At first, he’d settled for subtle tactics: stretching exaggeratedly, sighing loudly, shifting on the couch in a way that made the leather creak just enough to be noticeable. When that failed, he moved on to more obvious methods, like standing behind you, resting his chin on your head, and wrapping his arms around your shoulders in what should have been a distraction too sweet to ignore.

But you hadn’t even flinched.

So now, he was pouting.

Xavier would never admit to pouting, of course, but that was exactly what he was doing. His lower lip was slightly pushed out, his silver brows were drawn together in a frown, and he was sinking lower and lower into the couch, his entire body exuding sulky displeasure.

How long had it been now? Two hours? Three? He was certain it had been at least half the day.

His fingers drummed against his knee. Maybe he should just grab your laptop and toss it across the room. That would get your attention. Or maybe he should act like he was in grave distress—clutch his chest, groan dramatically, collapse onto the floor. Surely that would get you to look at him.

Instead, he settled for the next best thing.

With all the grace and stealth he possessed, Xavier slid off the couch, crawling onto the floor until he was sitting directly beside your chair. His head tilted up as he stared at you, waiting for even the smallest reaction.

Nothing.

He scowled. "Are you planning to stare at that screen all night?"

"Mmhm," you hummed, not even sparing him a glance.

His frown deepened. "You do realize I’m here, right?"

Another vague noise of acknowledgment.

Xavier narrowed his eyes. He had been ignored before, sure, but this was just unfair.

And now, he had made it his mission to break your focus.

Xavier, determined as ever, let out a small sigh before lifting his hand. His Evol hummed to life, and the glow of your laptop screen flickered, dimming until it was barely visible. Then, with a subtle flick of his fingers, the display distorted, the text shifting and swirling like ink in water.

You let out a frustrated groan. "Xavier!"

He blinked up at you innocently. "Yes?"

"Please! I need to get this report done. I'm not getting behind on work because you want attention!"

In your frustration, you snapped the laptop shut with more force than intended before throwing it open again, fingers immediately resuming their frantic typing. Your words were sharp, harsher than you meant, but at that moment, all you could focus on was meeting your deadline.

You didn’t notice the way Xavier's eyes widened slightly, the way his usual playful demeanor stiffened ever so slightly. You didn’t notice how he stared at you, as if seeing something he hadn’t expected.

What you did notice was the quiet click of the door.

Not a slam, not an angry exit—just a calm, deliberate departure. The sound, barely loud enough to be distracting under normal circumstances, echoed in your mind like a deafening crack.

Your fingers froze on the keyboard.

Oh.

You exhaled, a sharp pang of guilt settling in your chest as the weight of your own words replayed in your mind. You hadn’t meant to snap. You hadn’t meant to push him away.

But you had.

Xavier was never demanding. He was persistent, sure, but never unreasonable. And now, instead of arguing or pouting, he had simply… left.

You swallowed, glancing toward the door.

Would he come back if you waited? Maybe he just needed air. Maybe you were overreacting.

But then you thought of his expression before he left—the quiet hurt hidden beneath the usual calm.

With a sigh, you pushed your chair back, standing up. Work could wait. Xavier, however, shouldn’t have to.

You hesitated outside Xavier’s apartment, the weight of the cookie container in your hands suddenly feeling heavier than it should. The trip up here had felt longer than usual, your own guilt dragging your steps.

You took a breath. Just apologise.

Slipping inside, you expected to see him sprawled out dramatically on the couch, maybe with a pillow over his face, sulking like a cat deprived of attention. Instead, what you found made your stomach twist.

Xavier was sitting on the couch, his body angled toward the window, bathed in the cold glow of the city lights. The usual warmth he carried was nowhere to be found. He was still, too still.

You stepped closer, keeping your voice light despite the nervous flutter in your chest. "Okay, okay, I get it. I was a little harsh, but you were being insufferable—"

You stopped.

Even in the dim lighting, you could see the quiet tears slipping down his cheeks. He wasn’t sobbing, wasn’t making a sound, but the sight was somehow worse. He looked like he wasn’t even aware he was crying, like his emotions had bled through before he could stop them.

Your breath caught in your throat. "Xavier…"

You surged forward instinctively, placing the cookies on the table with a soft clatter before cupping his cheeks in your hands. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, but he didn’t lean into the touch like he usually would.

Instead, he turned his face slightly, firmly ignoring you.

The rejection, soft as it was, stung.

"Xavier," you tried again, thumbs brushing over the damp trails left by his tears. "Talk to me."

Nothing.

His jaw tensed under your touch, and his hands, usually so quick to grab onto you, remained clenched in his lap. The Xavier you knew, the one who teased and pouted and wormed his way into every aspect of your life, felt so distant now.

You swallowed. "I didn’t mean to snap at you," you whispered, your voice softer now, less desperate, more honest. "I was frustrated, not with you—well, okay, maybe a little with you—but mostly with myself."

His shoulders twitched, barely a reaction, but enough for you to see you were getting through.

You took a breath, shifting so you were kneeling between his legs, forcing him to either look at you or go on stubbornly ignoring your presence.

"You can be a pain, you know?" You smiled a little, trying to coax something, anything, out of him. "But you’re my pain, and I was an idiot for pushing you away like that."

Still, silence.

Then, finally, a breath.

"You always do that." His voice was quiet, rough in a way you weren’t used to. "Always throw yourself into things and forget that someone’s waiting for you to look up."

You blinked.

Xavier exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if he was annoyed with himself. "I don’t even know why I…" He trailed off, hands finally moving—but not to hold you. Instead, he wiped at his own face as if frustrated that he had let himself cry in front of you at all.

You felt your chest ache.

There was something heavier in his words, something unspoken. A kind of familiar grief that didn’t make sense in the context of one small fight.

But that was a question for another time.

Right now, you just wanted him to know he mattered.

So you leaned in, pressing your forehead gently against his. "I’ll look up more," you promised, closing your eyes. "I’ll pay attention. I swear, Xavier."

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, his hands finally reached for you.

Not playful, not teasing—just holding on.

Like he was afraid of something.

Like he was afraid of losing you.

Xavier didn’t speak right away. He just held onto you, his hands gripping your arms, thumbs brushing over your skin as if reassuring himself that you were really there. His forehead was still pressed against yours, warm and steady, but there was a hesitance in the way he held you—like he wasn’t sure if you’d pull away again.

You weren’t going to.

Slowly, he exhaled, finally shifting back just enough to look at you properly. His blue eyes were still damp, still heavy with something unsaid, but there was a quiet resolution there now. He lifted your hands from where they rested against his chest, cradling them carefully between his own.

Then, with a gentleness that made your breath catch, he brought them to his lips.

His lips brushed over your knuckles, lingering in a way that made your heart ache. "I need you to be serious about this," he murmured, voice low, but firm. "Not just saying it to make me feel better."

You swallowed, guilt tightening in your throat.

"I mean it," he continued, pressing another soft kiss to your fingers. "I want to spend time with you, and if you’re too busy, then fine—just let me help. If it’s your report, I’ll help you with it. If you’re stuck, I’ll be there." He squeezed your hands gently, his expression open, unguarded in a way you weren’t used to. "I just want to be with you. However I can."

Your heart clenched.

You’d been so focused on your work, so lost in the constant cycle of getting things done, that you hadn’t even considered how Xavier might feel about it. He didn’t just want attention—he wanted to be with you. He wanted to be a part of your world, not just something on the outside waiting for a moment of your time.

You lifted your hands, cupping his face once more, smoothing your thumbs over his cheekbones. This time, when he leaned into your touch, there was no resistance.

"I promise," you whispered.

Then, before he could say anything else, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was sweet, slow—not rushed or desperate, but full of warmth. A promise sealed with something softer than words. Xavier made a quiet sound against your lips, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer.

When you finally pulled back, he exhaled, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You sure you won’t need me to break your screen again?"

You laughed, pressing your forehead to his. "No breaking my laptop. But…" You smiled. "I wouldn’t mind your help next time."

His smirk softened into something fonder, something real.

"Good," he murmured, pulling you in again. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

And this time, you believed him.