#at the thought of their friend and/or lover being another cold body on a table

[carvers-hawke]

you know healing, and especially more advanced spirit healing, probably requires an extensive knowledge of anatomy right? gotta know how to direct the magic to put the body back properly and all, yeah?

and how a big part of the study of anatomy involved the dissection of animals and, ultimately, of the human body. so, logically, makes sense that mages who pursue healing would have to study anatomy extensively.

except access to cadavers has historically been difficult (I mean, to the point a whole profession existed solely around digging up bodies to sell to doctors) so how's a mage to find quality cadavers in a circle? not like there's a whole ritual where if you take too long you get killed just to be safe...

now imagine a young anders, spirit healer savant, having to dissect the bodies of apprentices who failed their harrowing, or mages who had killed themselves. because, for practicalitys sake, you can't just pass up the opportunity if you want to study. and healing is one of the nobler pursuits for mages, to the extent that they are allowed to intentionally engage with denizens of the fade to further their abilities. so he has to reckon with the fact that people he knew, people he might have shared jokes with, had just been laughing so hard they couldn't breath a few days ago, has been depersonalized into a cadaver to be taken apart piece by piece and studied. for the greater good.

in the worst of it, when he's alone in solitary, he thinks to himself that, if he dies here--from neglect, abuse, or his own hand--at least he'll still be of some use to someone.

[flowersforbucky]

delirium

bucky barnes x reader (sex pollen trope)

word count: 4.1k

summary: stranded in the middle of the alaskan wilderness with no means of communication after being exposed to a foreign drug, you're reluctant to accept help from the one person who has a shot at saving you.

warnings/tags: sex pollen, dub con, unprotected sex, oral, masturbation, angst, descriptions of physical pain, language, friends to lovers, avenger!reader, no use of y/n, reader is afab, 18+ only

flashbacks are in italics

Sometime in the near future, there would be a case study conducted on how long a human being could burn from the inside without dying.

They would refer to you as exhibit a.

Doctors and scientists would lay your cold corpse on a colder table and use a scalpel to cut you from your thorax to your belly button. They would scribble notes about how your lungs had turned to ash and your esophagus to molten lava.

They wouldn't say it, but they would think it's a shame, because your driver's license states that you were an organ donor.

A harsh gust of wind snaps you out of the twisted fantasy and back to your reality - standing barefoot on the rickety front porch steps of a small cabin in Sitka, Alaska. You've only been outside for a few minutes but the snow is pouring down at a brutal pace, already covering the tops of your exposed feet.

The razor sharp chill of the ground below you and the air that surrounds you are the only things tethering you to what little remains of your sanity.

You never thought that you would be so thankful for your feet to be going numb, but after feeling like every fiber of your being is getting melted with a hot branding iron for - what? Ten? Twelve hours now? You had to resist the temptation to submerge your entire body in the multiple feet of snow that had accumulated since nightfall.

You hear the front door of the cabin creak open from behind you. You don't have to turn around to know that he's standing in the doorway with the same look of pleading desperation that he's been giving you since the two of you had realized what was happening.

“You need to come back inside,” he says delicately. His voice is muffled by the roar of the snowstorm, but right now with heightened senses, you hear him just fine. “You're going to get hypothermia.”

You don't respond. The mere sound of his voice makes you grit your teeth together so hard that you're surprised the tiny bones don't shatter.

He keeps to the doorway, scared that if he takes one step closer, you'll flee into the miles of thick woods that surrounds you in only a pair of old sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. He murmurs your name in a tone that begs you to come in from the below freezing temperatures.

“What time is it now?” You barely recognize your own voice - low and strained, it sounds like you haven't had anything to drink in days.

You clear your throat, though you doubt it'll make any difference.

“Just after four o'clock.”

Eleven hours into this hell, then. Best case scenario, another half a day of this. Worst case scenario, close to two.

Either way, you knew that these symptoms had yet to hit their peak. This would undoubtedly get worse before it gets better.

You stare out into the endless thicket of snow covered hemlocks and spruces. The illumination from the full moon makes the white powder on the branches glisten in the darkness.

Daylight was still hours away, and with it, hope for some means of communication with the rest of your team back in New York. The snowstorm had brought a widespread power outage across the city. Cell phone signal was nonexistent right now.

“Go on back to your room,” you tell him. “I'll come back inside in just a moment.” You continue to watch the blizzard before you, knowing that he's still just a few feet away from you. “I promise,” you add, hoping that he’ll believe you and return to the bedroom you'd been forcing him to keep to.

The drug coursing through your veins had amplified every one of your five senses. Even with him behind the closed door of the bedroom, you could still smell faint traces of the earthy musk of his deodorant and something warm that is uniquely him.

You wouldn't chance coming back into the house until his scent has dissipated from the entrance - not unless you want to feel as though all air is being stripped from your lungs.

Even simply standing here, with him behind you and the wind blowing his scent in the opposite direction, is nearly intolerable.

You hear footsteps retreat into the house, growing quieter and quieter as he makes his way back down the hallway, until you finally hear the click of his bedroom door. You exhale a breath that you weren't aware you had been holding in.

You have no doubt that he'll try to drag you back inside by the ankles if he has to, so you make good on your promise and return to the sweltering interior of the six hundred square foot log cabin.

A sharp, stabbing pain radiates from the center of your body at that thought - the exact kind of thoughts you were actively trying to avoid having. Thoughts of his hands digging into your thighs, his wet mouth on your throat, his bare chest pressed against yours as he fucks you into the likely thirty-something year old couch - those thoughts. Dangerous territory thoughts - the kind you didn't trust yourself not to act on if dwelled upon for too long.

Apparently, the thought of him putting his hands around your ankles and dragging you kicking and screaming falls into that category.

You settle onto the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest in an effort to alleviate the ache in your lower belly. You notice that Bucky has crammed more wood into the fireplace, which currently serves as the main source of light for the cabin, save for a few candles that have been placed sporadically throughout the small space.

Sweat begins to bead across your skin within seconds of sitting down in front of the fire. You know that Bucky is just trying to keep the temperature of the house from dropping below zero while also providing enough light to see during the middle of the night while you are in too much discomfort to sleep, but you feel like you are locked in a sauna after running five miles.

You think back to all of the times that you've given Sam shit for taking ice baths after his workouts. Now nothing sounds better than an ice bath.

Almost nothing, anyway. The only thing that could possibly feel even better is laying down behind a closed door less than twenty feet away.

And he'd offered - begged, actually, to take this pain away from you.

“Please,” he whispers, kneeling on the ground next to the couch, where you sit hunched over in pain. He's so close to you and it's fucking suffocating. He places his hand on your knee and you have to dig your nails into the suede upholstery to keep from whimpering. He notices the reaction and retracts his touch.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he says louder, the pet name finally getting you to meet his gaze for the first time since you dropped the glass jar of the firetruck red powder in the former HYDRA warehouse two hours ago.

Big mistake. Looking at him is a big fucking mistake. From the way his blue eyes bore into yours with sincere concern to the way that his plump, pink lips are slightly chapped from the cold weather -

“No,” you say firmly, shaking your head into your hands. “I can't ask that of you. I can't make you do that. I would never forgive my–”

“You wouldn't be asking or making me do anything,” he tries to reason with you. There's sincerity in his voice but you're too delirius to hear the truth of his words. “I'm offering. Because I care about you. Because I don't want to see you in any kind of pain if there's anything I can do about it. Because I think you'd do the same for me if the situation were–”

“Bucky,” you cut him off in a strained gasp. “Your voice is making this so much worse right now.”

“Then let me help you. Let me make you feel good.”

His words alone are enough to have you clenching your thighs around nothing but the thick material of your sweatpants. You can feel your cotton panties becoming more drenched with each word he speaks.

“Not like this.” You're on the verge of tears - from pain, from anger at the entire situation, from how goddamn badly you need to feel him inside you. “It can't happen like this. I never wanted it to happen like this.”

His features soften, a look of understanding spreading across his face.

“When we fuck, I want it to be because we want to fuck,” you say as you jump up from your position on the couch, desperately needing to distance yourself from him before you do something you can't take back. “I don't want it to be because we feel like neither of us have a choice in the matter.”

“But we do have a choice,” he murmurs from where he's still kneeling on the floor next to the couch. “And I'd choose to go back to that HYDRA facility and infect myself with this shit, too, if it means you'd feel a little less guilty about saying yes.”

Your answer to that was, of course, a big, giant absolutely fucking not. The snow started pouring down shortly after, making his irrational proclamation an impossibility, anyway.

Almost half a day later, here you are. Surrounded by miles and miles of snow and ice in a town with no power or semi-functioning cell phone towers, just trying to endure the fire coursing through your veins until the effects of the HYDRA made drug have worked through your system.

You're coming up on the twelve hour mark now, and there's no denying that you're desperate for relief in one way or another.

Worth a fucking shot, you think.

You prop your feet up on the glass coffee table in front where you sit on the couch, spreading your thighs apart by a few inches.

You hesitate for a moment, listening for any kind of indication that Bucky's no longer in the confines of the cabin’s singular bedroom.

Dead silent, except for the crackling of the wood burning in the fireplace.

You snake your hand down the front of your pants, past the waistband of your underwear and to your center that's been aching for hours now.

You stroke your fingers up and down your folds, stopping at the apex of your core to massage your clit in circular motions.

Your head rolls back on the couch at the sensation, immediately feeling the slightest sense of relief. You dig your teeth into your lower lip to keep from moaning - hard enough to draw blood, the taste of iron flooding your mouth.

You slip two fingers past your entrance, not requiring any foreplay to plunge them to the hilt. It feels good - the way you're working yourself with rapid scissoring motions. Really fucking good, actually. Better than fingering yourself has ever felt.

But only a mere minute into the ministrations, you fear that it won't be enough to satiate you in the way that the drug requires.

Still, you try. You yank your t-shirt above your tits, bringing your free hand to paw at your breast as you continue working your pussy with your fingers, the heel of your palm putting pressure against your clit.

“That's not going to work, you know.”

You yank your hand out of your pants, snapping your head to the side to see him leaning against the frame of the small hallway. You had been so immersed in attempting to find some amount of relief that you hadn't heard him exit the bedroom. He's looking at you with sympathy and concern, not judgment - you don't think you'd be able to find it within yourself to feel embarrassed even if he were. Not in your current state of discomfort.

“How do you know that?” Frustration is evident in your voice. You look away from him, back to the fire in front of you as you pull your shirt back down. The floor creaks as he steps out of the hallway and makes his way over to the opposite end of the small couch. He sits a foot away from you, close enough so that his scent and warmth invades your senses, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core.

“Because I've been through what you're going through right now.”

Your eyes break away from the ember that you've been staring at, your gaze snapping to him. You don't know why this comes as a surprise to you. It shouldn't, not with every other form of torment that HYDRA had inflicted upon him for over half a century.

“Why didn't you tell me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I was embarrassed,” he answers with a small half-shrug, breaking your stare. “I didn't.. handle it as well as you are,” he continues, shame in his voice and cheeks rosy. “You’re doing everything you can to fight something that you didn't ask for. That's more than I can say for myself.”

“You were brainwashed, Bucky,” you remind him delicately. It's a risky move that makes your skin burn and belly clench, but you scoot closer to him on the couch - your outermost thigh brushing against his knee. If the two of you weren't both wearing sweatpants, the minimal touch might even aid in bringing you some relief. Instead, you’re left feeling desperate for more of him.

But you push the feeling down, wanting to do what little you can to comfort him - wanting him to know that you don't think poorly of him for what was forced onto him, and what is now being forced onto you, too.

“I would never judge you for anything they made you do,” you assure him.

“I know you wouldn't,” he murmurs, turning to face you again. His blue eyes glow in the low lighting of the fire. The closeness between the two of you is dizzying, and electrifying, and -

“And I want you to know that I would never judge you for giving into this torture,” he adds.

You snort a laugh. “I'm starting to think you want me to give into this.” You mean for the statement to sound light-hearted, but a sharp pang in your gut makes you wince in pain and your voice goes shrill. You clutch your lower belly, hunching over at the pain.

He leans in closer, putting one hand on your lower back and one on your thigh. You whimper at the pressure of his fingers against your spine and inner thigh. Even through your clothes, the contact feels like heaven compared to hell you've been enduring for the last twelve hours.

You lean into his touch - you don't even think about it, you just do it. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, your forehead nuzzling the warm skin of his throat.

You take a deep inhale, attempting to steady your breathing, and you realize quickly that is a mistake - his scent is so euphoric, it feels like inhaling flames.

“Would it make it easier for you if I said that I do want you to give in?” His voice is low, his breath fanning across your face from his position above you.

“Fuck, Bucky, you can't say that to me right now,” you whine. You fist your hands into the fabric of his t-shirt, your eyes squint shut.

“Look at me,” he commands. You force your eyes open, pulling your head back enough to look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I want it to be your choice.” He brings a hand up to cup your jawline. His thumb skims the outline of your bottom lip. “But I would be lying if I said that I'm not relieved that I'm the one here with you, or that I wouldn't enjoy every second of helping you feel better.”

He brings his hands to yours, pulling them away from where they still clutch his shirt. You release your grip, allowing him to hold you by your wrists. He pulls your right hand up to his face, stopping just under his nose. Your brows furrow in confusion, until it dawns on you what it is he's doing.

He inhales deeply, then lowers your hand to his parted mouth. He slips the tips of your index and middle fingers past his lips, and then swirls his tongue around the two digits.

The exact two that had been inside your pussy not even five minutes ago.

Right now, you think you could come from him sucking on your fingers and nothing else.

You don't even try to stop the groan that slips past your lips as you shove your fingers deeper into his mouth. He moans around them as he finishes cleaning them off, the sound sending vibrations up your arm and throughout your body.

You pull your fingers from between his lips and immediately crush your own lips to his in their place. You feel the drug surging through your veins, but this time it's less excruciating - it now feels like pure adrenaline bubbling under your skin, spurring you on.

He opens his mouth to you, your lips and tongue moving with his in synchronicity. It's hurried and messy, and maybe not as romantic as you had imagined it in your head before this night - but it's exactly what you need right now.

He maneuvers you so that you're laying down on the couch, and nestles himself between your thighs. You can feel the hard outline of his erection through the thin material of his sweatpants. He ruts against you, dragging the bulge across your clothed center as he yanks your t-shirt up and over your head. He tosses it somewhere behind the couch before attaching his mouth to one of your nipples and palming the other with the cool metal of his left hand.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling the full weight of his body down against you. You stick your hands up the back of his t-shirt, scratching your nails down the skin of his back.

“I need more,” you gasp out as he pinches your nipple between his teeth, rolling it in his lips. The clothing that separates the two of you feels like a prison. “I need to feel you.”

He pulls away, leaning back to perch on his knees between your legs. Your eyes roam down the chiseled planes of his chest until they land on the defined “V” shape that disappears into the waistband of his low-hanging pants.

He hooks his fingers into your sweatpants and underwear and tugging them both down past your ankles, then throwing them somewhere across the room with both of your long-forgotten shirts.

His eyes trail your body from your breasts to your thighs, his pupils dilating in the firelight. He splays his hands across the meat of your inner thighs, pinning your legs open wide for him. He lowers himself back down on the couch, belly down so his face hovers just above your pussy.

“Bucky, I swear if you don't put your mouth–”

He laughs, a deep, throaty chuckle before his tongue slips between his lips. It darts to your hole, licking a soft strip up to your clit. You exhale a sharp hiss of pleasure, your hands shooting to lace your fingers through tendrils of his hair. You arch into his touch, meeting the thrusts of his tongue with thrusts of your hips. He eats like you're the best thing he's ever tasted - like he's wanted this for way longer than this drug has been in your system.

You're coming on his face in an embarrassing amount of time, really. Thanks to the influence of the pollen, you currently have the stamina and endurance of a teenager losing their virginity. Your thighs are clenched around either side of his head, writhing above him as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

The relief that you feel as you come down from your high feels like years of pent up frustration leaving your body all at once.

You don't quite feel entirely like yourself - there's still a dull ache in your core, and your skin’s still feverish - though that could be due to the fire that the two of you are just feet away from. But you're now able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Come here,” you whisper, your voice low and honeyed. He crawls over you, his chest brushing against yours as he centers himself above you. His skin shines with a thin layer of sweat that mingles with your own. You reach a hand between your two bodies, palming his erection through the sweatpants that he has yet to shed. You keep your eyes locked on his face, watching as his eyes roll back into his head and his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as you massage him through the fabric. Your other hand juts down to the waistband of his pants and you tug them downwards, far enough to help him shimmy them down to his knees.

His cock springs forward and he takes himself in his flesh hand, pumping his length several times before teasing your folds with his tip. He collects your slick along his length, lubricating himself before nudging his head just past your entrance.

You're more than ready for him - hours of desperation in addition to already having come on his face leaves you needing no further preparation before he's filling you up with his impressive length and girth. There's a slight burn at the sheer fullness of it, but there's also a wave of relief that your body has been craving for hours.

He pulls out halfway, then rocks back into you. He starts slow - trying to hold back for his own sake or for yours, you're unsure. Gradually, he increases his speed, hitting your cervix at that sweet angle that not everyone knows how to work. You lean forward, raising your head enough to capture his lips in yours once more.

You taste yourself on him - a dichotomy of sweet and salty mixed with something entirely unique. He brings his flesh hand in between your bodies, lowering his fingers to your clit where he begins rubbing pressured circles. You moan his name into his mouth and he responds by biting your lip between his teeth, his movements becoming messier.

“You gonna come on my cock?” he asks in a low growl when he feels your pussy clenching around him. “Gonna fill you up and make you feel all better.”

His words send you tumbling over the edge for the second time - that telltale warm coil in your belly bursting at the same time that he begins spilling his warmth into you.

He collapses, pinning you between his body and the couch beneath you. Starting at your shoulder, he peppers kisses along your collarbones and up your neck until he’s finally eye-level with you.

“We can do that again,” he says in a breathy voice, still inside you. “If you need to, that is. Or if you just want you.” There's a mischievous grin spread across his face and a twinkle in his eyes. It's the most carefree you've seen him since the two of you left New York to come here for this mission. You put your hands on his chest, jokingly attempting to shove him away from you.

“Oh, I don't think I need to,” you jab at him. “I'm feeling pretty great now, but thank you for your services.” He laughs, pulling out of you and sitting back against the couch. He pulls you up with him, wrapping his flesh arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. “But I think I might want to again. You know, now that I'm no longer in excruciating pain.” He hums in agreement, stroking his flesh fingers across the side of your stomach.

“I'm glad you were the one here with me too, Bucky."

thank you for reading! i know sooo many people have done this trope, especially for bucky, but it's truly one of my all time favorites and i just needed to get this out of my system so i hope you all enjoyed

comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

other works by me: oil & water • down bad • acquainted •

[taesjpq]

Jealousy part. II

genre — best friends to lovers, fluff, smut MDNI!! pairing — female!reader x best friend!Mingyu summary — read part 1 hehe, this is pure smut (with plot) word count — 8,7k (part II)

I highly recommend reading part 1, first, or this probably won’t make much sense.

Warnings and notes under the line.

Notes: mention of san (ateez) and sangyeon (theboyz)

Well… it’s finally here!! it’s been a while, so even if you’ve already read part 1, I recommend giving it another read before diving in �� this picks up right where it left off. Enjoy, and please scream & shout at me about how you liked it!! it’s my first time writing smut, so be kind (but also honest hehe) ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, switch!mingyu (CAUSE I KNOW HE IS), switch!reader, needy mingyu (yes that’s a warning), semi-public situations (they're not getting caught at all), fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), consent emphasized, breast play, dirty talk, edging, mild overstimulation, unprotected sex/creampie (don't do that!!), cockwarming, aftercare implied, excessive use of “fuck” and “shit” (because i can’t stop it) 

21:12 

"Woah." 

Hoshi and Wonwoo storm inside, the door swinging shut behind them. "I almost turned into a damn tree waiting out there. Thought you guys were pretending not to be here." 

There’s a pause. His eyes flicker around the room—searching. 

"For whatever reason," he adds, dragging out the words before shooting Wonwoo a look, wiggling his brows. Wonwoo chuckles under his breath, balancing bottles in both hands. 

Usually, Mingyu would roll his eyes, maybe even smack Hoshi for a dumb comment like that. But right now? His mind is too hazy, too full—still tangled up in you. 

The second you hear their voices, you go. 

Straight to the bathroom. Fast enough to escape, slow enough not to raise suspicion. The door clicks shut behind you, just shy of a slam. 

Your hands grip the sink. Your reflection stares back at you, wide-eyed, cheeks burning, lips—fuck. 

You look wrecked. 

Your hair is a mess from where Mingyu had leaned too close, your lips are swollen from nothing but a brush, and your skin still tingles where his breath had been. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. Inhale deep. Try to steady yourself. 

Because they’re out there. He is out there. And you need to act normal. 

So you force it all down, splash cold water on your face, and when you step out of the bathroom, you do what you do best. 

You pretend. 

"Why the hell wouldn’t you guys pick up my call? I was going crazy. Do you know how much I paid yesterday for your shit?" 

Hoshi sprawls out on the couch, his voice loud and dramatic, while Wonwoo sets the snacks and bottles down on the table. 

That’s how Hoshi expresses his worry—through complaints, through exaggerated frustration that’s half real, half just him being Hoshi. Usually, Mingyu would respond. Would roll his eyes, laugh, tease him back. 

But right now? 

Mingyu isn’t listening. 

He can’t listen. 

He sinks onto the couch, still lightheaded. Still caught up in the last few minutes. 

Hoshi is talking—something about the night, something Mingyu should probably respond to—but his mind is elsewhere. He’s still in the kitchen. Still pressed against you. Still feeling the ghost of your lips brushing his. His whole body is tense, his skin too warm, his jeans way too fucking tight. 

He shifts uncomfortably, subtly adjusting himself before grabbing a pillow and placing it over his lap. He tries—really, really tries—to focus on Hoshi. To nod at the right moments. To act normal. But all he can think about is how soft your lips felt, how you looked at him. The way your lips parted just slightly, like you were going to— 

"So tell me, what did you guys do today?" 

Fuck. 

Mingyu freezes. 

What—what is he supposed to say? That you guys—? No. No fucking way. 

His stomach tightens. His jeans—shit—feel impossibly tighter. A sudden wave of dizziness washes over him. He wasn’t even drunk, but it was too hot in here. Too much. Too you. 

"Umm…" he mutters, fingers pressing to his temple, trying to come up with something—anything—normal to say. 

"Nothing much," you say, stepping into the living room. Too casual. Too even. "Just ate, watched something. Pretty chill." 

Hoshi hums, unconvinced. 

And Mingyu—Mingyu forgets how to breathe. 

His eyes drag over you—your face, your lips. Your legs, where he was between them just minutes ago. 

Shit. 

His grip tightens on the pillow. 

"Yeah, of course," Hoshi says, voice laced with suspicion. But thankfully, he shrugs it off, already moving on to another topic. The conversation shifts, flows into something else. 

But Mingyu doesn’t. 

He stays still. Because you don’t look at him. Not once. 

Since the second you walked into the room, since the moment you spoke, you haven’t spared him a single glance. 

And fuck, that does something to him. 

Fingers clenched. Jaw locked. Heart pounding. 

Because this isn’t over. 

Because no matter how much you pretend— 

No matter how steady your voice is, how carefully you avoid his gaze— 

He knows. 

He knows now.

22:12 

"Well, I was supposed to go out with the other guys tonight, but of course, you guys come first," Hoshi announces dramatically, stretching across the couch. 

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his phone. "Why are you lying? You were the one who insisted on coming here and dragged me along." 

Hoshi huffs and lightly smacks Wonwoo’s arm. "Shh, be quiet." 

But then, as if the thought just occurred to him, Hoshi perks up. "Actually… now that I think about it, I could've brought them along. They’re pretty cool." 

He pauses for effect, then smirks. "Especially Sangyeon." 

There’s something in his tone—something teasing—that immediately puts you on edge. 

"You know what?" He grins. "I should introduce him to you. He might be your type." 

Your head snaps up. 

And so does Mingyu’s. 

The air shifts in an instant. 

“I—uh, I’m actually pretty picky, so don’t bother.”  

“Come on, it can’t be that complicated. What is your type, anyway?” 

Your mouth opens, then closes. 

 And before you can stop yourself, before you can think—your gaze flickers to Mingyu. 

Shit. 

You regret it immediately. The moment is too fast, too obvious. Wonwoo catches it instantly, his sharp eyes reading your expression like an open book. 

"Just leave her alone with your nonsense," Wonwoo says, his voice even, unimpressed. "Maybe worry about finding your own girlfriend first." 

Hoshi gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. "Hey! I’m trying to help! It’s been years since she’s had a boyfriend!" 

Your stomach tightens. You can’t sit here any longer. 

Mingyu doesn’t look away. He just watches.  

Heat creeps up your neck, and suddenly, you need to get out of here. Now.  

You force out a laugh, pushing yourself to your feet. "I think it’s time for more drinks." 

"Want some help with that?” Wonwoo asks, still half-distracted by his phone. 

"No!" It comes out too fast, too desperate. You cringe at yourself but don’t stop. 

You don’t wait for a response—you just go. 

The moment you step into the kitchen, you exhale sharply, setting the glasses down and gripping the counter. 

Just breathe. In and ou— 

“Need help?” 

His voice. 

Casual. Too casual. 

He’s there—leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, shoulders broad, completely unbothered.Taking up too much space. 

An annoyed smile tugs at your lips. Why can’t he just leave you alone? 

“I thought I was being clear,” you mutter, staring ahead. 

A slow, knowing hum. Amused. Mocking . “I’m just being nice. Like always.” 

And he’s enjoying this—teasing you like this. 

You shake your head, you shift, pulling open the fridge. “Good. Then don’t be like always.” 

Mingyu straightens, uncrossing his arms, a soft chuckle. 

You grab a couple of bottles, setting them on the counter before reaching for the glasses in the cabinet. 

He doesn’t move. Just staying there at the door frame. Watching you. 

“Yeah? And how exactly do you want me then?” 

Your grip tightens around the glass. 

Mingyu. You little shit. 

You inhale, forcing yourself to keep your back to him. “I need you to be quiet. Just quiet.”  

“Oh, I can do that,” he murmurs, voice lower, rougher. 

You don’t dare meet his eyes. You don’t even turn around. Instead, you keep your gaze on the glasses in your hands—like that’s all you came here for.  

“I think you know how.” 

You let out a breath, stepping toward him like it’s nothing. 

“If you’re done, here, make yourself useful.” 

His smirk deepens. You’re trying so hard to act unaffected, but he sees it—the way your fingers tremble slightly, the way your breath catches.  

Mingyu tilts his head. Slow. Calculating. “I thought you didn’t want my help?” 

You shoot him a glare. You scowl. Why does he have to be so goddamn annoying?  

And worse—why does he have to look this good while doing it? 

But before you can fire back— 

Your phone rings. 

You glance down at your pocket, hands too full to reach for it. You sigh, shifting everything toward Mingyu. 

He looks at you. A beat of silence. And just when you think he’s going to take the bottles— 

His hand moves. 

Not for the drinks. 

For your phone. 

No hesitation. No second-guessing. 

His fingers brush against your waist as he lifts the hem of your shirt—just slightly. 

His fingers curl around your phone. He pulls it out, his gaze flickers down to the screen. 

San. 

The name rolls off his tongue. He’s heard it before, here and there. Was it someone from work? 

His eyes flick back up to yours, searching. “This late?” 

You swallow. “Give it back.” 

You step forward, but he doesn’t move. 

His grip tightens around your phone. He should just hand it over. He should step back. 

Instead, the words slip out—low, unfiltered. 

“Why is he calling?” 

You blink. 

Shit. It wasn’t a question he meant to ask. It wasn’t something he even thought about saying. It just fell out of him. 

“What?” 

The call ends. Silence. 

Mingyu doesn’t answer the question. Neither do you. 

Before you can figure out what's happening, he smiles. But not just any smile.That slow, knowing, devastating kind. 

And then—He puts it back, back into your pocket. 

Ding. 

A message. 

He tilts his head. 

Ding. Ding. 

“Must be important.” 

Another message. 

“You close?” 

His voice dips lower. 

You open your mouth, but before you can answer— 

“How close?” 

Something shifts. 

The teasing is gone. 

He sees the realization flicker across your face. You notice it now—the difference. 

No smirking. No amusement. 

Just— 

Jealousy. 

Your lips twitch. 

This is fun. 

Your turn now. 

“This close,” you murmur, taking a few steps back. 

His brows furrow slightly. 

“Or this close?” 

You step forward again. 

His fingers flex. His jaw tightens. 

Now he gets it. 

Now you’re right in front of him. So close, almost touching. 

“Or maybe… this close?” 

So close you feel his breath. The way his chest rises. The way his hand twitches at his side. 

Your gaze flickers down to his lips. Then back up. 

His breath stutters. 

Your voice drops, barely above a whisper. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” 

Mingyu moves before he can think. 

His hand grips your waist. Your back. Pulling you into him. 

His body is so warm. So solid. 

And then— 

“I doubt you two are this close.” He leans in. Just slightly. 

His breath ghosts over your lips, his fingers flexing against your waist.  

The cold of the drinks and glasses in your hands presses against his chest, against his stomach—a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from him. It makes his breath hitch. You can feel it, the bottles and glasses pressing against your breasts, and you wonder what it would have been like if they weren't there. 

“You didn’t even think about checking his messages,” he murmurs. His voice is smooth. Too smooth. And then—lower—right against your ear—  

“I have you right where I want you.” 

A sharp inhale. 

“YAAA!!”  

Hoshi’s voice cuts through the moment like a blade. 

Neither of you move. 

Neither of you break eye contact. 

“MY DRINKS!! WHERE ARE MY DRINKS!!”  

Mingyu should step back. He should let go. 

He watches the way your chest rises. The way your lips part. The way your fingers tremble, just slightly, against his arm. He could end it right here. Close the space. Kiss you senseless. 

He wants to. God, he wants to. 

But the voices in the living room—too close. 

He doesn’t know how it would end. Doesn’t know what you’d do. What he might do. Not when his pulse is this loud, not when you’re looking at him like you already know. 

Not now, he thinks. 

Because if he moves even an inch closer—  He’ll do something stupid. 

Right then where you think he would lean in —again 

he takes the bottles and glasses from your hands. 

Turns and walks out of the kitchen. 

Leaving you standing there, heart racing. 

Mingyu—smirking to himself. 

He chooses restraint. For now. 

00:34 

Your night plays out like it always does. 

Mario Kart on the Switch, followed by rounds of drinking games, laughter bubbling up with every sip, the room alive with energy. It’s become routine—getting tipsy with the guys, letting the evening slip into a blur of noise and warmth. But tonight, something’s different. Your mind isn’t on the game; it’s on him. 

Mingyu. 

You’re counting down the minutes until this all ends, until you can finally be alone. 

Alone with your thoughts. 

“Okay, last round, Hoshi,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Yes! Yes!” Hoshi hurls himself into the couch, already grabbing his drink before the race even starts. Predictably, he loses again. 

You don’t even flinch, too distracted by the way Mingyu leans back against the couch, his eyes casually glancing at the screen but his attention fully on you. He’s sitting there, relaxed—his messy hair falling perfectly in a way that makes you want to reach out and fix it, even though you know he’d just mess it up again. 

His black t-shirt is slightly stretched from his movement, and as he shifts to grab another drink, you catch a glimpse of the chain hanging loosely around his neck. It glints in the dim light, you gaze down to the sharp line of his jaw to his exposed collarbones. 

You try to look away,  but every movement he makes seems deliberate, as if he's doing it on purpose. 

“PLEASE! LAST ROUND, PLEASE!!” Hoshi’s voice rings out, exaggerated and dramatic, dragging you back into the room. Mingyu chuckles, his lips curling into that effortless smirk. 

“Alright, let him have another round,” he says, voice deep and calm, a little too calm, his eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second. 

It’s enough. 

Your heart stutters. You’re hyper-aware of everything. He rolls his sleeves up, just slightly, as he takes another drink. The biceps of his arm flex as he lifts his glass, you can see the veins along his forearm. It’s suddenly so warm in here and you can feel the way it pulls you closer even though you haven’t moved an inch. 

He doesn't need to try. He just is. 

He knows it, too.  

“YAAA!! THIS CAN’T BE!!” Hoshi wails, the chaos pulling you out of the moment. His controller crashes to the floor in exaggerated despair. 

You sigh, laughing despite yourself, the sound escaping your lips like a small release. For a moment, it feels like the tension that’s been thickening the air all night finally breaks, but it lingers—just out of reach. Your eyes flicker to Mingyu, and in that instant, you catch him. Staring at you. Not just a glance, but a look that lingers. 

He’s watching you, watching the way you sit there—knees on the floor, bare legs beneath you. But it’s not just the way you’re sitting, it’s the way his shirt clings to your skin, your posture, your eyes, your lips... everything about you seems to pull him in. His thoughts begin to drift, and before he can stop them, his mind’s running down a path he knows he shouldn’t be on. 

No, he thinks. Not again. 

He drags a hand over his face and thunks his head back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut. He exhales slowly, a forced calm. Focus, Mingyu.  

He can’t afford another hard-on tonight. Not with everyone around. 

But he knows. You both know it. 

It’s going to be a long, torturous night after all. And it isn’t ending anytime soon.

02:46 

Hours have slipped by, blurred by laughter and the bitter tang of alcohol on your tongue. The room is warm, dimly lit,—half-empty glasses, crumpled snack bags, the low hum of music still playing somewhere in the background. 

You’re exhausted, but wired. The kind of tired where everything feels a little too slow, a little too heavy. 

A soft snore interrupts your thoughts. 

You turn your head. Hoshi, sprawled out across the couch, mouth slightly open, completely dead to the world. 

You blink. "Well. There he goes." 

Mingyu huffs out a quiet laugh across from you, tilting his head toward the couch. "Took him long enough." 

"It’s always him," you mutter, shaking your head. 

"It was Wonwoo first." 

"Wonwoo doesn’t count. He chooses sleep." 

Mingyu grins, eyes crinkling at the edges, his dark, tousled hair—slightly messy from the long night—falls over his forehead, the dim light catches the sharp line of his jaw and suddenly, you’re aware  that its just the two of you now. The laughter fades, leaving something quieter in its place. 

And then it happens. 

That look. 

Mingyu leans his head back against the couch, watching you in that way that makes your stomach twist. His gaze is dark, unreadable, and smirking. you feel it—lingering too long on your face, dropping to your lips.  

He’s fucking smirking at you.  

Like you guys didnt kiss each other just hours ago.  

Your breath catches. Heat pools in your stomach, climbs up your spine, wraps around your throat until your face burns. It’s impossible to ignore the way your body reacts to him, impossible not to remember the way he felt pressed against you, the way he almost— 

No. 

You need to move. You need to do something—anything—to break the tension before it swallows you whole. 

So you stand up. 

Quickly. Too quickly. You busy yourself with the mess on the table, grabbing empty glasses, snack wrappers—anything to keep your hands occupied, your mind distracted. You can still feel his gaze pressing into you, following your every movement like a weight on your skin. So you just move yourself to the kitchen. Yeah, that damn kitchen. 

To escape. To escape him. 

But of course, he follows you. 

You focus on the counter, setting things down with a little too much force. You reach for an empty glass, then hesitate, frowning. Where does this go again? You open a random cabinet. Wrong one. You try another. Wrong again. 

Mingyu leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you struggle. His broad shoulders stretch the fabric of his shirt, and the sleeves cling to his biceps in a way that makes your fingers itch to touch. 

"Need help?" 

"No." 

"You sure?" 

"Yes." 

You find the right cabinet—finally—but as you reach up to place the glass inside, it slips. Not enough to fall, but enough for Mingyu to react. 

He leans in slightly, voice lower now. "You seem a little distracted." 

You exhale sharply, setting the glass down before you drop it for real. "I’m fine." 

He hums, unconvinced. 

Silence settles between you. Mingyu doesn’t move, doesn’t look away. Instead, he watches you—closely. His gaze lingers as you slowly place the glass in the cabinet, like he’s studying every movement, every flicker of hesitation. You feel it—his eyes, the weight of his attention pressing into your skin. 

"You’re bad at this, you know," he murmurs. 

"At what?" 

"At pretending." 

Your pulse stumbles. 

"I’m not pretending," you say, but your voice isn’t as steady as you want it to be. 

He laughs teasingly, not really believing you.  

"You’re also bad at drinking games," he teases, his voice low, laced with something deeper. He leans against the counter, too close. "Honestly surprised you’re still standing." 

You roll your eyes, feigning confidence. "It takes a lot to get me down." you say, your voice steadier than you feel. The warmth of the alcohol hums beneath your skin. "I’m not even that drunk, actually."  

"Oh, yeah?"  

He steps closer.  

No. Please, no. 

You almost whine.  

Not again. Not when you’re still weak from earlier. Not when you still feel the ghost of his breath on your skin, the way he nearly kissed you, the way he almost had you.  

You swallow hard, nodding—but it’s weak, almost shaky. And he notices. 

"So, you weren’t really that drunk yesterday? Was all of that just an act?" 

His skin glows under the kitchen light, sweat dampening his forehead, his neck. His lips are pinker than before, and when he tilts his head slightly, your knees almost give in.  

“I dont know what you mean- I-" Your voice falters, and you curse yourself for how obvious it is. He's always been able to read you, hasn't he? 

He smirks. But he knows it all too well. Without touching you, he moves. His presence alone pulls you backward, guiding your body against the counter. You find yourself pressed against the edge, your breath caught in your throat. He doesn't touch you, but it feels as if he’s controlling every inch of your movement. 

Finally, his gaze softens, but the intensity remains. He reaches up, his fingers grazing your cheek, the touch light but electric, sending a shiver through you. “Your cheeks are giving you away,” he murmurs, his voice low and knowing. “Mingyu, stop.” you whisper, as you push against his chest, it causes him to step back, just a little. His arm wraps around yours, pulling you right back into him. The movement is fast, and before you can fully react, you’re pressed against him—your chest against his, your breath shallow as you’re forced to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.  

He exhales, voice deep, teasing, but his eyes betray him. "Why? you’re not gonna ask me to stay this time? Not gonna ask me to sleep with you?"  

"I don’t even remember what I—" 

"But I do." 

He doesn’t let you go. 

He leans in, hand ghosting along your jaw, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he’s trying to memorize it. His warmth seeps into your skin, into your bones, unraveling something inside you. 

“You were looking at me like this,” he murmurs, forehead resting lightly against yours. “Exactly like this.” 

You can feel every word against your skin. His eyes don’t leave yours. 

“Mingyu, I—” 

“You held me here.” He traces your hand over his chest, down his abs, his touch slow, deliberate. “You asked me to stay, told me not to leave”, a smirk tugging at his lips as he remembers that moment. “Shit, I thought you were fucking with me.” 

Your throat goes dry, a tightness spreading through you as his nose brushes against yours.  

“You said please,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. He slowly pushes you against the counter.  

“Say it again" he whispers, the word coming out like a plea, thick with want, yearning—almost as if he's asking to kiss you.

“Please,” he whispers. It’s barely a sound—more breath than voice—but it carries everything. A plea. A need. Like he’s not just asking for a kiss, but for permission to fall apart in your hands. 

Your chest tightens. Your fingers move before your thoughts can catch up, curling around the back of his neck, drawing him in even though you’re already impossibly close. 

His breath hitches at the movement, eyes locking with yours. And there, in the quiet space between heartbeats, he knows. 

Then he kisses you.  

Soft at first. Barely there. It’s slow, careful—his lips brushing yours, like he’s learning the shape of you through every careful pass. 

Then again—deeper this time. More sure. 

His hands find their way to your cheeks, holding you, steadying you, like he can't pull away even if he wanted to. He hums against your lips, a soft relief, like he's been waiting for this. And he was. 

But the moment his mind catches up with the taste of you—he’s lost. 

The kiss turns desperate, all softness bleeding into something needier. Like if he stops, even for a second, it might all slip away. 

Your hands are everywhere—roaming, exploring. He nudges you gently until your back hits the counter, the edge cool against your spine. Your palms press to the surface behind you, steadying yourself as the bottles shift and clink under your touch. 

“Mingyu—” 

“No—”,he’s already kissing you again. 

Your protest is cut off, swallowed by his mouth, his kiss harder now. Like he’s trying to erase every reason not to. 

His hand slides to your waist, fingers pressing in, grounding himself in you. His chest brushes yours, heart pounding. 

“We should—” he exhales, his voice cracking, his lips barely leaving yours. “We should stop, right?” 

Your fingers find the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath, brushing against the skin of his stomach. He’s warm, feverish beneath your touch. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, lips still brushing his, “they—hmh-they could come in…” 

Shit. He knows. He really fucking knows. But he’s too far in. He should stop—he knows that. But how’s he supposed to do that? When you're looking at him like that? He tried to be good. He really did. But with you like this? He’s already too far gone. 

“Mmh,” he exhales, kissing the corner of your mouth. “We should stop before...” 

But even as he says it, his hands slide down, fingertips grazing your thigh. He looks at you, like he’s checking—like he needs to make sure. And the way you're staring back? He gets his answer. 

He lifts your leg onto the counter. The bottles clink next you, sharp and loud in the quiet, like a reminder of where you are but — 

“Yes—mmh—we should stop before anyone—” 

But then he hums, low and rough, as his hand moves to your chest. Fingers glide up, brushing over your breast, and your breath stutters.  

“We should… fuck-” His voice trembles. “Go to sleep.” 

He’s trying. God, he’s trying. 

But his mind is lost in you. Like he’s clinging to every thread of control he has left. 

 “Yeah,” you whisper back, breathless. Your hand slides under his shirt again, feeling the way he trembles under your touch. 

“I should go to sleep…”, you smile to yourself.  

“Yes- We should go to sleep,” he says, pulling off his shirt. 

You watch his skin glows golden under the dim lamp, and when he runs a hand through his hair—black strands sticking up in every direction—you almost loose it. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him like this, but damn. 

He takes your hands, places them on his chest, his abs—letting you feel him. And then he kisses you again. 

“Shit,” he breathes. “I can’t… I can’t fucking stop.” 

You're still on the counter, legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, even as his hands slide up, cupping your tits, grazing the edge of your bra, his mouth finding your neck. 

“Fuck— Mingyu,” you moan, soft but breathless. 

“Don’t do that,” he groans. “-Fuck.” 

You tug off your shirt, and he just stares for a second. 

Out of breath, hair a mess, half-dressed. This—this is what he dreamed about for far too long. 

You reach for his belt, pulling him back in. 

“We can’t be loud,” you whisper. “Be quiet, Mingyu.” 

He smirks like you’ve just dared him. Like being quiet is a challenge. 

He kisses you hard, pressing his dick against you—exactly where you want him. You moan into his mouth, hands in his hair, kissing him like this might be the last time. Because maybe it is. 

He trails kisses down your neck, then your chest—his mouth warm over your bra, licking and sucking. You feel everything, but it’s not enough. You need more. 

“Mingyu, don’t—don’t tease.” 

“We can’t be loud, right?” he smirks to himself. You whine in response. 

One hand cups your breast while the other runs across his lips, tasting you . You bite down on your lip, trying to quiet every moan that threatens to slip. His hands are so big on you, his mouth so unbelievably good. 

You pull him back to your lips, needing to feel him—needing to let those moans escape where only he can hear them. 

“More,” you breathe, your hand drifting lower, palming him through his pants. 

The alcohol is blurring your filter, but you don’t care. You want him. 

Still, he doesn’t give in. Not fully. Not yet. 

He kisses you deeper—your lips, your throat—grinding against you like he’s losing control. Like you’re the one driving him insane. He thinks he’s teasing you, but maybe he’s torturing himself just as much. 

You dig your nails into his back, kissing along his shoulder. The intimacy of it gives you goosebumps, sets your skin on fire. 

You can’t take it anymore. Your hands go to his belt, fingers working it open as your eyes meet his. 

“Shit,” he exhales. Mingyu shakes his head “Not here.” 

“Not here?” you whisper, almost whining. 

His hands find your waist again, sliding lower, between your legs. 

His fingers are a little cold, and the touch makes you gasp.  

“Mingyu-” 

“Spread your legs for me,” he says lowly, never breaking eye contact. 

You do. 

He moves slowly at first, teasing your clit, eyes locked on every little reaction your face gives away. 

Your mouth parts open slightly, breath hitching. 

“Hm? That sensitive?” he asks, speeding up just a little. 

A soft moan slips from your lips as you grip his arms, trying to steady yourself. 

And then his finger slides inside. 

Then another. 

While his thumb keeps working your clit, making you lose your mind. 

“You like seeing my hands between your legs?” he rasps, still watching you. 

You can’t even look away—neither of you can. 

He kisses you, and you moan right into his mouth. 

“You like the way that feels?” he asks. “So wet for me already…” 

You try not to, but his names slips out of your mouth.  

“Shit. Didn’t we talk about being quiet?”, voice low, watching you all desperate and squirming under his touch. 

And you can feel it building—right there, right under his fingers. 

“Fuck, yeah. Like this”, he whispers. You’re so close. 

His fingers move just right—fast, precise, relentless—and your body can’t take it anymore. It hits you all at once. You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, legs trembling as the orgasm rolls through you.  

He doesn’t stop until you're done—his fingers slow down, helping you through it, letting you ride it out as your whole body shudders against him. 

Then he kisses you—soft, almost sweet, lips warm and slow. You melt into it, dizzy, still catching your breath. 

He smiles into the kiss, smug as hell. “You think they heard you?” 

You smack his chest, face burning, and he just laughs—loud, unbothered—and gives you a quick kiss on the lips like it’s nothing. 

“Time to sleep,” he says, all casual, like he didn’t just make you fall apart on the kitchen counter. 

You’re still dazed, legs weak, not even trying to get up when he picks up your clothes. And just as you’re wondering what now, he lifts you—hands under your thighs and back—carrying you. 

You bury your face in his neck, skin still warm, and you can feel him chuckling, chest shaking under your cheek.  

He carries you into your room, setting you down on the bed,you lean back on your elbows, chest rising and falling, still hazy from your high—but your eyes are locked on him. The soft light from the hallway hits his skin just right. His abs flex as he moves, still shirtless, just his jeans hanging low on his hips.  

You're supposed to be tired. You’re supposed to be done. 

But your body says otherwise. 

He notices your stare. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

You tilt your head. “Like what?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, almost flustered, but that smirk is back.  

“Like you want more. You know I lose control when you do that.” 

You lean forward, lips brushing into a small, wicked smile. “Hm, really?” 

He curses under his breath. 

You shift onto your knees, crawling closer to where he’s standing by the bed, teasing, until you’re eye level with his lips. You watch him closely, deliberately. His eyes darken, flickering down to your mouth. 

“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters. 

“I’m just being like always,” you say, like it’s innocent—but the way you graze your fingers over his belt says otherwise. 

He laughs, low and rough. “You’re impossible.” 

Then he kisses you, hard, like he’s finally letting go again.  

Your hands move lower, reaching for him, cupping him as you finally try to undo his belt. But he gently brushes your hands away, shaking his head. 

“Mhh, no,” he says against your lips, voice deep and determined. “I’m not done with you.” 

His hand finds your waist, guiding you back down to the bed without breaking the kiss. You sigh into it, helpless under his touch.  

Mingyu slips off your bra, he trails kisses down your collarbone, your chest—slow. His mouth lingers on your breasts, lips and tongue teasing. You’re biting back a moan when he lightly sucks on your nipple. His other hand slides lower, down your side, until it reaches your hips. You gasp as his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties. 

He pulls them down slowly, watching every flicker of your expression like it’s something he doesn’t want to miss. Like he’s imprinting it in his mind. 

Then he kisses lower—over your stomach, your hips your inner thighs. His lips brush every part of you except where you want him most. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, and it’s driving you insane.  

You breathe in sharply when his mouth finally finds you. His tongue moves in slow, careful circles over your clit, your fingers already tangling in the sheets. He’s gentle at first, like he’s still learning, but his confidence grows fast. And it’s not just skill—it’s the way he pays attention. The way he listens to every sound you make, every breath you take He groans into you, like he needs it just as badly. 

You can barely focus. Your thoughts are scattered. All you know is heat. His tongue. That pressure building again, way too fast.  

You peek down at him, and the sight almost ruins you. His eyes are half-lidded, completely focused —locked on yours. His brows slightly furrowed like he’s concentrating, feeling you, not just tasting. His grip tightens on your thighs as you move, and he groans against you—fuck, he’s into it. 

And in his head? He’s losing it. 

This is all he ever wanted. 

He’d dreamed about this—too many nights, too many times imagining what you'd sound like, taste like, how you’d fall apart under his mouth. But none of it compares to this—flushed, needy, eyes fluttering, mouth open with every breathy moan. And the way you say his name? 

Yeah, he’s gone. 

He’s so mad at himself—mad that he waited this long, mad that he let you be so close for so long without touching you like this. But right now? He’s making up for it. 

He presses your thighs open wider, groaning at the way you react. His tongue starts to move faster now, rougher, more deliberate. Circling, sucking, teasing. You whimper his name—desperate, breathless—and he loves it. Every moan you try to bite back just makes him go harder. 

“Mingyu—fuck—” you breathe, legs trembling under his grip. 

And he just hums into you in response, lips curved, like he’s proud of the way you fall apart for him all over again. 

He slips a finger inside you, and your back arches, a loud gasp ripping from your throat before you can stop it. You glance down—his mouth still on you, tongue still moving—and you can see it. 

That smug little smile. 

You actually want to slap him for it. But God, it feels so good. Too good. 

You shove your finger between your lips, biting down hard, because otherwise you'd be moaning his name. 

Trying to not wake anyone. But he makes it impossible. His finger curls just right, finding that spot that makes your whole body clench, and then— 

A second finger. Thicker. Deeper. You cry out into your arm, hand flying to his hair, gripping hard—more for your sanity than his guidance. 

This isn’t what you had in mind when you got drunk last night—but fuck, you’re not complaining. 

“Mingyu—I’m going to—” 

You can barely get the words out, voice all shaky. He pulls back just a little, breath heavy against your thigh, fingers still pumping into you slow and deep, while looking at you in your eyes. 

“Not yet,” he says, voice low, but wrecked. “Just a little longer, please?” 

You want to curse at him, cry, beg—but all that comes out is a desperate whine. You throw your head back into the mattress, eyes squeezed shut. 

You need it. 

But he knows that. He wants you right there. He wants to watch you fall apart again—and know it’s him doing it to you. 

His fingers speed up, more precise now, like he knows exactly how much you can take. His tongue’s back on you—licking, moaning with you, vibrating against you. 

And when he lifts your legs up, resting them on his broad shoulders—you can’t take it anymore. 

Your whole body clenches. The heat crashes over you so fast it steals your breath. Your hands still tangled in his hair as he stays with you till wave ends. 

He doesn’t let go. He holds you through it, still licking you soft and slow, humming gently like he’s calming you down from a high only he could give. 

He smiles to himself, then leans in to kiss you again—slow, deep. You can still taste yourself on his lips. You kiss him back. your body’s still buzzing, but God, you're tired. 

Eventually, he lets himself drop back onto the bed beside you, one arm flung lazily over his eyes. You're both breathing hard, skin warm and flushed. 

“You tired?” he murmurs, voice a little hoarse. 

You hum, eyes still closed. “Yes… but no.” 

He lets out a quiet laugh, shifting just enough to peek at you from under his arm. “What kinda answer is that?” 

You giggle softly, brain still foggy. “You?” 

“Kinda, yeah.” He drags a hand through his messy hair. “You seriously drive me insane. I was tense the whole damn day… like some fucking college kid with a crush.” 

You smile to yourself. “Oh yeah? You deserved it. You made me wait long enough.” 

He lifts his head, resting on his elbows now, eyebrows raised. “I made you wait?Are you kidding? I was trailing after you like a damn dog for months. Everyone saw it. Everyone. Except for— you. They made fun of me. Hoshi even gave me names. He called me a puppy!” 

“You didn’t do anything either!” you shoot back. “And it’s not my fault—you’re nice to everyone!” 

“Yeah, but…” he pauses, and you can feel something shift in the air between you. You look at him, waiting for ending the sentence. 

“I’m only in love with you.” 

The words are soft. Steady. No hesitation, no teasing this time. And it hits you. Your heart stutters—you look at him, searching his face, trying to read the truth in his eyes.  He meant it. Every word.  

Your lips part, but no answer comes. Not yet. Instead, your gaze drops—his chest still rising fast, the muscles of his stomach tense, his jeans still unbuttoned, the bulge beneath his boxers so obvious now.  

A slow smile curls on your lips.  

“You waited that long?”, drawing the word out, fingers drifting low on his stomach. 

He groans, tossing his arm back over his face. “Don’t mock me.” 

You lean in. “What did they call you again?” Your hand cups him through his boxers—he’s already hard. 

He lets out a long breath through his nose, biting back a curse. 

“Stop playing…” he mutters, but it’s weak—he doesn’t really mean it. 

Your voice dips lower. “Did Hoshi call you a puppy?” 

“Mhm—  a puppy in love, he said.” 

A slow smirk tugs at your lips as your hand dips beneath the waistband of his boxers, fingers wrapping around him. He’s hot, thick, and already leaking. He groans—sharp and low. 

“Fuck—don’t tease—” 

You pull down his jeans and boxers in one slow motion, freeing his cock. He twitches in your hand. 

“So much pre-cum…” you say. “Were you really about to cum in your pants, Gyu?” 

He laughs at himself, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, yes—almost.” 

You bite your lip, your hand moving slow at first, teasing.  His breath catches. “Shit—I’m sensitive.” 

You watch the way his expression shifts—brows knit together, lips parting, chest rising quicker with every breath. 

  “Don’t—ahh—your hands…” he groans, voice breaking around the words. 

You go a little faster. His hips twitch. A breathless moan slips from his lips and he grabs at the sheets. 

“What if I..” You lean in, breath ghosting over the tip of his cock. You give a soft lick, just once—just to see. 

“Shit— cant you just—” he gasps, jaw clenched tight.  

You look up at him, wide-eyed and innocent. “Not so loud,” you whisper. “What if they hear you like this?” 

He lets out a desperate sound, biting down on his fist, like that’ll help. 

You smirk, finally taking him into your mouth—slow, deep, with deliberate pressure. His whole body jerks. 

He’s trying to hold back. He doesn’t even dare to look at you. Because if he does—if he watches your lips wrapped around his cock, your eyes fluttering shut, your head moving slow and steady—he’ll lose it. Completely. 

You suck him deeper, your lips wrapped tight, tongue tracing every inch. He’s so responsive, so sensitive, every little flick making him twitch in your mouth. His thighs tense beneath your hands, and the soft, ragged sounds coming from his throat only make you want more. 

“Shit—” he gasps, a hand reaching down, not to push you away—but to ground himself. His fingers tangle in your hair, not guiding, just holding. 

You glance up. His head’s tossed back, lips parted. 

He tries to hold still. Tries not to fuck up into your mouth. But the way you’re working him—slow, then fast, then slow again—it’s driving him insane. 

And then suddenly— 

“Wait—fuck, baby—stop.” 

You try to understand why he pulled away—lips still parted, his length heavy in your hand—and then you hear it. Footsteps. The faint creak of the bathroom door down the hall. Someone’s awake. 

instead of stopping, you stroke him—slow, deliberate—watching his eyes flutter, jaw clench tight. 

“Shit, baby…” he whispers, voice tight, “I can’t hold it in. I’m gonna—” 

  You lean up, cutting him off with a kiss. A soft hush. You don’t want him too loud either. But he’s still so hard, throbbing in your hand, and the way he kisses you back—messy and desperate—tells you how badly he’s struggling. 

He sits up slowly, his hands grip your waist, pulling you into his lap like he can’t help it. You settle over him, straddling, still bare, your pussy brushing his cock. The friction makes you both gasp—his tip slides right against your folds, wet and hot and so wrong. So good. 

“Fuck—” he groans into your mouth. “Baby, your pussy… it's—shit—it’s right there.”  

“I know,” you whisper, lips brushing his. You roll your hips, letting his cock glide through your slick folds, not quite inside, but enough to make him lose his breath. “But we’re not having sex, right?” 

His hands squeeze your hips tighter, trying to steady you, but you keep grinding—slow, delicious pressure. His cock slides over your clit just right, making you both shiver. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” he breathes. 

“But you like it,” you whisper against his jaw, biting it gently. 

“Fuck baby, I love it. You feel—mhm—fuck.” He’s unraveling beneath you, hips jerking up once, just barely. 

You smirk and keep going. Little circles. Little rocks of your hips. You moan quietly, lips brushing his ear. “What if I came like this? Just from grinding on your cock?” 

“Dont fucking talk like that. Shit—” 

And then he says it—low, strained, breathless: 

“Just the tip?” He meets your eyes, voice barely a whisper. “It wouldn’t count… right?” 

The smirk on your lips falters when you feel him shift beneath you. He looks at you, one arm wrapping around your waist. His tone drops lower—deeper, more confident now. “Say yes.” 

You nod. That’s all he needs. 

He pulls you down—slowly—just enough to push the head of his cock inside. You gasp at the stretch, at how thick he feels, even like this. He holds you there, both of you trembling, his forehead resting against yours.  

You whimper, but before you can speak, he moves. He rocks his hips up—just once, shallow, purposeful. Enough to make you cry out and cling to him. 

He chuckles, quiet and low. “Told you. Just the tip, and already look at you…” 

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and he loves it. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” he murmurs, guiding your hips slowly, letting you feel all of him without giving you everything. “Look at you. So desperate to be full, huh?” 

You nod again, helpless. “Please…” 

He tilts your chin up, kissing you softly—then deeper, filthier. “You want more?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

He hums, leaning back to look at you. “Then ask me.” 

You swallow hard, but your mouth stays shut, lips parted, breath shallow. You know what he wants to hear— but something  in you won’t give it to him that easily. Not yet. 

“Hm?” he says softly, eyes narrowing with the hint of a smirk. “No?” 

His hands slide down your sides, slow and sure. He shifts his hips under you—just the head of his cock still buried inside, pulsing—and rolls them up ever so slightly. Just enough to make your breath hitch. 

“You gonna make me work for it, huh?” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your jaw. One of his hands slips between your bodies, fingers trailing over your clit in featherlight circles. You jerk forward instinctively, gasping. 

“Fuck—Mingyu—” 

“Still not asking,” he mutters, almost amused, his voice thick with restraint. 

He keeps circling, teasing—soft, slow, maddening. At the same time, he rocks his hips again, just a little, dragging himself barely an inch deeper inside you. Your body clenches down, desperate for more. 

You whimper, hands braced on his chest, trying not to completely melt. He’s watching you now, eyes locked on your face, drinking in every twitch, every shaky breath. 

His free hand grips your ass, guiding you into a slow, lazy grind against him. The friction makes your head spin—you can feel the tip of his cock pressing right there, and his fingers still working you, too slow to satisfy, too perfect to ignore. 

You try to hold on—but your body betrays you, chasing the rhythm, chasing more. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but your pride holds them back just a moment longer. 

He leans in close, lips brushing your ear. “I’ll keep going like this all night,” he whispers, voice rough. “Just like this. Teasing you. Keeping you full, but never enough. Is that what you want?” 

“N-No,” you breathe, almost a sob. Your legs are shaking now, your whole body aching. 

“Say it,” he whispers. You break. You can’t take it anymore. 

“Please—Mingyu—fuck me.” 

And the second those words leave your mouth, his expression shifts—something deeper, darker flashes in his eyes. 

He grabs your waist with both hands and sinks you down onto him in one slow, devastating thrust, filling you inch by inch until you’re gasping his name, your body going taut. 

“There you go,” he breathes, his voice strained, jaw clenched. “Fuck—you take me so well.” 

You’re panting, hips rolling instinctively, but he slows you down with a firm grip. 

“Not yet,” he murmurs. “I want to feel you like this. Just… stay here a second.” 

You can feel him pulsing inside you, his hands roaming your back, your hips, your thighs like he’s trying to memorize every part of you. He presses kisses to your neck, slow and hot. 

Then he starts to move—hips snapping up, controlled, deep. Not rough, but precise. He watches your face the whole time, eyes flicking down to your parted lips, your fluttering lashes, the way you gasp when he hits that spot inside you. 

“You feel me right there?” he growls against your ear. “Right where you needed it?” 

You nod frantically, fingers clutching his shoulders, your voice broken. 

“Tell me,” he urges, his tone softer now, coaxing. “Tell me how good I make you feel.” 

“So good—fuck, so deep—Mingyu—” 

He kisses you again, grinning into it, just a little cocky now that you’re coming apart in his hands. His pace quickens, your moans slipping free with every thrust, louder, needier. 

And then he stills, his grip on your waist tightening. 

“Ride me,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “Fuck yourself on my cock. Let me watch you.” 

You bite your lip, breath shaky, but you shift your weight and begin to move—slow at first, dragging your hips in circles, rolling against him. He groans, loud, his head tipping back, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you from beneath messy strands of hair. 

“That’s it, baby,” he pants. “Just like that—fuck—look at you.” 

You start to bounce, the rhythm building as his hands slide down to your hips, helping, guiding, squeezing. The sound of skin on skin fills the air, filthy and wet and perfect. You can’t stop moaning, can’t stop grinding down onto him—because he’s so deep, and you’re so full, and it’s too much. 

You’re close. You can feel it coiling deep in your stomach. 

“I—Gyu—I’m—” You don’t even finish. Your body seizes up, every muscle tightening as you cry out his name and fall apart around him, shaking, pulsing, gasping. 

“Let go, baby,” he whispers, his voice wrecked. “Cum for me. Right here, right on my cock.” 

He’s right there with you—watching you fall apart around him has him unraveling, too. His fingers tighten at your waist, jaw clenched, a desperate groan tearing from his throat. 

“I’m gonna cum—fuck, I can’t hold it—” 

“Cum inside me,” you breathe, still trembling, your voice barely more than a whimper. You’re still fluttering around him, soaked and warm, and the plea in your voice pushes him right over the edge. 

With a broken moan of your name, he buries himself deep, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, pulsing hot and thick. He holds you tight through it, his face tucked into your neck, breath shaky and warm against your skin. 

For a while, neither of you moves. There’s just the sound of your heartbeats, the rise and fall of your chests pressed together. 

Then he presses a kiss to your shoulder. Then your jaw. Then your lips—soft, lingering. You both smile into it, drunk on the closeness. 

As the haze starts to fade, you shift your hips, starting to lift off him gently. 

But his arms tighten, holding you in place. 

“No,” he murmurs, half-pleading. “I wanna stay inside you a little longer.”  

You sink back down with a quiet laugh, and he whimpers. 

“Shit,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut, “I’m still sensitive…”  

You smile, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead and kiss the mole on the tip of his nose. He blinks up at you, wide-eyed and flushed—and then he just starts to laugh. His hair is a wreck, his lips still kiss-bruised, and his collarbone is marked where you bit him earlier. But it’s his eyes that undo you—bright and crinkled at the corners. 

You laugh too, even if you’re not sure why. “What?” you ask, grinning.  

He shakes his head, still smiling like he can’t believe you’re real.

“I’m a fucking puppy in love.”  

a/n: it’s done!! finally. i’m so sorry for making you guys wait this long, but i’m actually really happy with how it turned out. i hope you like it just as much as i do ⭑.ᐟ thank you so much for waiting patiently—your comments were seriously the sweetest and so, so kind. ⋆.˚

fun fact about the whole “jealousy” story: this actually started out as a completely different story. i was inspired by that one gif of mingyu at the gym, and had this whole plot in mind… but then i realized it needed some context to make sense, and somewhere along the way, it just turned into this. so yeah, that’s why san’s little cameo feels kinda random 😭 BUT i’m thinking of turning that original idea into a bonus part for this one instead...would you want to read it?? let me know in the comments, in my dms, wherever—i’d love to hear from you!!

love youuuu xoxo ౨ৎ

My cute little 🏷️ taglist:

@wseye @wooahaeivy @dinow13 @httpscoco444 @jihoonsbbygirl @tigersandcherries @souleater440 @gyuldaengie97 @potayaa @mmingooo @ninigyuuu @littlewolfieposts @amingo046 @saturnesposts @starsewl @saltyfriendsaladbandit @imhwajaez @perfectlycleverface @chykyu @gohyemi @baekhyunimochibbh @gh0stprinceess @holyfestfire @id7lso @zimzalaminho @hellosighsophy-blog @my-woozi @sumeyyetuna

Honorable tag: @maplegyu

thank you for enjoying my fic and supporting me! It means a lot!

[op1umeyes]

from the club

Derek’s wolf whistle made you roll your eyes and try to slip into your seat without drawing too much attention. “Damn, mama,” he sang teasingly, eyeing you up and down.

“Derek Morgan! I ought to-“

“Whoa!”

You glared at Spencer, trying to ifnore the way his eyes trailed over your cleavage. “It’s like you guys have never even been in the presence of a female before,” you snark sarcastically. Secretly, though, you feel complimented that such aesthetically pleasing people thought you looked good.

Emily, Jennifer, Penelope, and Rossi were later than Hotch surprisingly. Aaron strode in next, laying a stack of files on the table. He sat down at his regular spot and turned to make conversation until the other arrived when he turned and saw you. His lips drew thinly over his face as he watched you reach over the table to grab a file. He swallowed and averted his eyes from you when you sat back in your seat. Hotch felt like a pervert and averted his mind to the more pressing matter. Dead bodies, knives, murder, he repeated to himself- trying to draw blood away from his crotch.

J.J., Penelope, and Emily arrived next. “Coffee for you all, my precious gems!” Penny sang, placing the team’s favorite brews in front of them. After she placed yours down her eyes gleamed and she raised her eyebrows. “Did you call-“

“Penelope!” You hollered, turning away from the red-head with a laugh. 

She just giggled and wiggled her eyebrows. As Emily took her place beside you, she leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I’m no better than the men here, y/n. You look hot.” 

You swatted her away and waited for J.J. to start the briefing. Emily snickered beside you.

There was really nothing professional about being called into work wearing low-rise jeans and a lacey tank top. But it wasn’t your fault- some of your college friends had stopped in the city and wanted to go to the club and wouldn’t take no as an answer.

Rossi showed up right before Hotch said his favorite phrase (read: “wheels up in 30”). You collected your file and started out of the room.

“Good lo- y/n!”

You whipped around to see Penelope rushinf towards you. “Wh-What?”

“You’ve surprised me more times today than I thought possible, darling girl. Turn around! I didn’t know you had ink!” 

You breathed out a sigh of relief and tried to ignore the feeling of her cold fingers tracing over the black ink just above your jeans. “I have some on the mid back too,” you said quietly.

“Impressive,” Rossi- of all people- hummed. “One of my ex wives roped me into getting a matching tattoo with her. The pain was somethinf else and the aftercare was hell. Rookie, here has a high pain tolerance.” He patted your practically bare shoulder and walked by without another word.

Emily purred lowly as she walked by, laughing at the way you flipped her off in return.

“You know, Jeffery Dahmer didn’t consume people that had tattoos… He said that the ‘tattoos made the meat taste like… shit’,” Reid spouted.

The way Spencer paused before saying shit was endearing. Maybe it was your attraction to nerds, but you felt particularly flattered at the weight of his gaze on you. “That’s interesting, Spencer,” you replied quietly. “Did you know the oldest recorded tattoo ink recipe required insect eggs?”

Spencer just hummed.

“I- uh,” Aaron cleared his throat. You stepped back from Penelope’s hands. “I imagine you have more professional attire?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Yes, Hotch. I’m really sorry, my friends convinced me to go out with them, you know, and I-“

Hotch chuckled and held his hands up. “It’s okay, y/n. What you do on your own time is your business,” he said.

You wrung your hands. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“No problem, y/n.” Hotch started to walk away and you felt Derek’s arm wrap around your shoulder. “Nice ink,” he called back to you. 

“I’ll see you on the plane, y/n,” Spencer told you with a wave. You smiled back at him and watched him run a hand through his hair as he walked away.

“Lover boy’s gotta thing for you, y/n,” Derek told you, a shit eating grin on his face. “And Hotch too, if I took a guess. I think you made the old man pop a bo-“

“Derek Morgan!”

You shoved him off of you and tried to ignore his gleeful laughter.

[imaginedisish]

Poker Face (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: OKAY! Here is the strip poker fic! This is not a request, but there are a few requests I really like, so I'm most likely going to write one of those next! Could not waste the opportunity to use Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" as the inspiration here. I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: You and Logan are alone in the mansion for the evening, and after a few drinks, your game of Blackjack turns into strip poker...

Warnings: 18+ Sexually Explicit Content MINORS DNI!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV, multiple orgasms, softdom!Logan(?), cocky!Logan, alcohol consumption (neither reader nor Logan get drunk), feelings, friends to lovers, strip poker!, f!reader/afab reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors (proofread this one between weird times), I think that's it!

Word Count: 4,025 how did I do that???

The house is empty. Quiet. It’s so strange, almost eerie, but honestly welcome. You can’t remember the last time you were ever so alone. Not lonely—alone. Comfortably and peacefully alone. 

Scott, Jean, and Storm took most of the children off on an overnight camping trip, while Hank, Kurt, and Charles were on a mission with some of the older mutants. Rogue and Gambit were out somewhere, leaving you and Logan in the mansion alone. 

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, back to the window, looking out at the empty room. Everything is untouched—neatly put away. You know things will be back to normal by tomorrow afternoon—dishes in the sink, shoes all over the floor, kids shouting down the halls. But for now, there’s nothing. No disruptions. No—

“Oh, hey,” Logan mumbles, stepping through the doorway and into the kitchen. “Didn’t know you were in here.”

You smile, trying your best not to let your eyes flit up and down his body. He’s wearing one of his tight beaters and a pair of jeans. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him—if you said that being alone in the mansion with him wasn’t somewhat overwhelming. You’ve wanted Logan since the day you joined the X-Men, just a few months ago. And while you’ve become close friends, you know it’ll never progress further than that. 

“Wanna join me?” You ask, tilting your head to the chair across from you. 

Logan smirks and nods. He walks to the fridge, swings open the French doors, and reaches inside. “Got something for us, actually,” he says, glasses clinking as he rummages through the fridge. He pulls out whatever he’s looking for, turning around, and revealing a 6-pack of beer. 

“No way!” You shout excitedly. “Logan Howlett, breaking the rules as always.”

He sits down across from you, placing the beers in the center of the table. “You know you love it,” he husks, grinning widely. 

You can feel the heat rising to your chest. He’s right. “I do,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t catch on to the implications of your words. If he does, he doesn’t show it. He grabs a beer by its neck, pops off the cap with ease, and holds the bottle out towards you. Your fingers brush his as you take the beer from him, his hands warm and surprisingly soft. The contact is fleeting, effervescent. You wish he could touch you again. 

You bring the bottle to your lips, the cold beer a distraction from your all-too-hot thoughts. You watch as Logan pulls a bottle for himself, his muscles flexing as he removes the cap. He brings the bottle to his mouth and knocks it back, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

“So…” You trail off, doing your all to ignore the way his tongue swipes across his upper lip as he places the beer back down on the table. You take another swig of your beer, ready to down the entire thing just to give yourself the confidence to say something. “D-did you wanna do anything?” You take another big gulp. 

Logan smiles. “Not sure,” he says, taking a sip. “You got anything in mind, princess?”

Your heart flutters at the familiar nickname. You rub a finger up and down the beer bottle, streaking the condensation. “We could play a game,” you offer, your eyes finding his. “Cards?”

Logan hums in affirmation as he knocks his beer bottle back again. He’s already practically finished. “You wanna play Blackjack?” He asks, taking a final sip before standing up and walking over to the kitchen island. He rifles through a couple of drawers before finding a pack of cards. He sits back down across from you, grabbing another beer and cracking it open. 

“Sure,” you answer, watching as Logan slips the cards from their box and expertly shuffles them. He thumbs the cards, dexterously letting them slide through his long fingers. He deals you the first card, face up, and then does the same for himself. You have a king of hearts, and Logan has a five of diamonds. He deals again, and you’re given a nine of clubs. It’s a good hand. Better than Logan’s, so far. He deals himself another card, looking at it briefly before putting it face down on the table. 

He smirks up at you. “Hit, or stay?” He asks.

You roll your eyes. “Stay, obviously.” He shakes his head, smiling as he deals himself another card. 

“Well, princess,” he says, showing you all three of his cards now. Five of diamonds, queen of hearts, and six of spades. “Looks like I won.” He’s smug as he grabs your cards and shuffles them back into the deck. 

You scoff and let him deal you in again.

You’ve only had two drinks, but there’s something about being with Logan that makes you feel like you’re drunk. You’ve been playing Blackjack for almost forty-five minutes now, round after round. Despite this being a game of chance, it seems like Logan wins far more often than you do. 

And yet, something gives you the sudden confidence to up the ante. 

“Lo?” You ask, taking a swig of your third beer, now. He looks up at you and hums, dealing the next round. You lean across the table. “What if we…” you trail off. “Made this more exciting?” 

Logan looks across the table under hooded eyes. You can sense the sudden shift in his expression, and you know he can sense the suggestiveness in your voice. The corner of his mouth turns up—a sly, half smile. “Exciting how, princess?”

You’re nervous now—all talk and no action. “Maybe we could bet somehow?” You offer, but Logan knows that’s not truly what you mean. He cocks his head, eyes narrowing.

And then he says exactly what you’re thinking—as if he can read your mind. “What about strip poker?” 

Your eyes widen and you swallow harshly. Logan is focused on you, still folding the cards into each other. You finally nod your head. “Sure, sounds fun.” 

Logan quickly deals the first cards. You have an ace, and Logan has a ten of diamonds. He places another card down for you—seven of clubs—and another face down for himself. 

“Hit or stay?” He asks, his eyes set on yours. He’s leaning closer to you than he was before. 

You take a deep breath. “Stay,” you answer, your voice trembling ever so slightly now. 

Logan shakes his head. “Wouldn’t have mattered anyway,” he says, flipping over his second card. It’s an ace of hearts. He collects your cards without another word, but his eyes are still glued to you. 

You bite your lip nervously and decide to tug away your sweatshirt. You’re wearing a thin tank top underneath, much to your relief. Logan’s eyes flit up and down your body, drinking you in. 

You drape the sweatshirt across the back of your chair, your eyes narrowing in Logan’s direction. “You have to be cheating,” you accuse sarcastically.

Logan grins ear to ear as he deals again, looking down at the table. “Just lucky,” he says, the words stopping your heart. “Very lucky.” He looks back up at you. Your breath catches in your throat. 

There’s a four of hearts in front of you this time. You roll your eyes at the low card. Logan—naturally—has a jack of diamonds. He places another card in front of you, a nine of clubs, and another face down for himself.

“Hit,” you mutter before he can ask the question. He places a seven of diamonds in front of you and shakes his head. He reveals his other card: an eight of spades. You smile widely, self-satisfied as you grab your beer by the neck and take a long swig. You lean back in your chair, watching as Logan pulls his beater up and over his head. 

He’s perfect, you think to yourself. Sure, he’s all chiseled abs and muscles, but he truly is beautiful. And you hope he knows it. “Happy now?” He asks, dealing the next hand. 

Heat spreads across your chest and down to your stomach. Your clothes feel tight, itchy. You try your best to ignore the way Logan makes you feel—to ignore the way you long to press your thighs together for some sort of friction. You—very obviously—are failing horrifically. 

“Hit, or stay?” Logan asks. You’re so distracted by him that you completely missed the deal. You look down to see an eight of hearts and a six of diamonds. Logan has a king of spades face up, and his other card face down. 

You raise your eyebrows, mulling it over in your mind. “Hit,” you finally spit out, and Logan deals you a ten of clubs. 

Oh. 

“Well shit,” you mumble. Logan chuckles as you stand up, struggling to decide what to take off. You look down at your athletic shorts and decide those are the next to go. You slip them down your legs and place them on the back of the chair with your sweatshirt. 

Logan’s throat bobs as his eyes trail up and down your legs. He isn’t laughing anymore; there’s something serious in his eyes, something dark. He works his jaw as you sit back down across from him. He looks pained as he deals the next hand. 

You cock your head to the side as he places a queen of hearts in front of you. “Are you okay?” You ask.

“’M’fine,” he answers curtly, drawing an ace of diamonds for himself. He quickly places another card down for you—a five of spades—and another face down for him. 

But you can tell there’s something wrong. It’s the way he moves, the way he fidgets in his seat. You reach out tentatively across the table, your fingers brushing against his. “Logan,” you soothe. “We don’t have to play if you don’t want to.” 

His eyes find yours, and he smiles softly, looking at your cards and then flipping his over. He got it. Twenty-one. Blackjack. “I think this game is almost over,” he says, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. 

You roll your eyes and grab the hem of your tank top, slowly pulling it up your body and over your head. Now all that’s left is your sports bra and your panties. You look across the table, and there’s Logan, eyes locked on you. “One more round?” You ask. 

But he ignores you, pushing out his chair, standing up, and walking over to you. “No,” he murmurs. “I think we’re done with the game.” He pulls your chair out from the table and leans down over you, placing his hands on either armrest, caging you in. 

His eyes are dark and filled with lust, his lips just centimeters from yours. Your noses brush, his breath fanning across your cheeks. You can smell him—the pine and musk and tobacco, his shampoo, a hint of mint. 

“L-Lo,” you stutter, your heart beating out of your chest as he leans in closer. There’s something animalistic, something primal about the look in his eyes. 

“I know you want me, pretty girl,” he husks. “Could smell that pussy crying for me before you even took those little shorts off.” 

“I-I,” you stutter, unable to form a coherent thought, no less a sentence. Your thighs rub together involuntarily at Logan’s words, searching for friction, for relief. 

Logan chuckles darkly. “Yeah,” he hums, one hand dropping from the armrest and slipping in between your thighs. “That’s what I thought, princess.” 

He pushes your legs open, his fingertips trailing along your inner thigh, slowly climbing higher. He finally reaches your heat and two of his fingers drag teasingly through your clothed folds, up to your clit. “Haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already soaked,” Logan growls, stroking you through your panties. “Making a mess of the chair, hm?”

“Logan,” you whine, his fingers circling your clit and then pulling away. Before you can protest the loss of contact, he’s hoisting you up and out of the chair, his hands squeezing your ass, holding you tightly in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist and bring your hands to the nape of his neck.

He carries you through the kitchen and into the hallway. He stops in his tracks and pushes your back against the wall, his lips finally finding yours. The kiss is rushed and frantic, like he just has to have you now, like he’s so hungry he’d die if he waited another second. He grinds his hips into yours, his erection straining through his jeans. 

“Need you, darlin’,” Logan mumbles against your lips, his chest heaving in time with yours. “Needed you this whole time.” He finally steps away from the wall and heads towards the stairs. You thread your fingers through Logan’s hair as he bites your lower lip, your pulse point, kissing you anywhere he can as he walks up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

He closes the door with a kick, and strides over to the bed in the center of the room, placing you down in the middle and crawling over you. His lips find yours again, his tongue darting out and sliding over your bottom lip, silently asking to be let inside. How could you ever say no? How could you ever not give him whatever it is he wants?

Logan balances on his forearm as his free hand trails up your body, warm and soft and soothing. He finds the hem of your bra and pulls the fabric over your tits. You arch your back, helping him slip it off the rest of the way. He finds your breasts, massaging gently before teasingly rolling your nipple under his thumb. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he huffs, moving to your other breast, pawing at the flesh, rolling over your nipple again, pinching lightly. His knee is settled between your legs, keeping you spread open for him. Your hips involuntarily rock against him, your needy core sliding up and down his thigh, searching for relief. 

Logan smiles against your lips and swallows your moans with a kiss before his touch suddenly disappears. His knee is no longer between your legs—the delicious friction gone. Your eyes flutter open and closed as he crawls down your body, kissing his way to the hem of your panties. 

“Lo,” you whimper as he places a chaste kiss to your clothed clit. “Please,” you beg, squirming underneath him. 

His arm latches around your waist, holding you down to the mattress while his other hand hooks inside the waistband of your panties. He tugs teasingly, taking his time as he slides your panties down your legs and tosses them off to the side. Logan settles himself between your thighs, his breath fanning against your cunt.

His arm is still firmly pushing you down into the mattress as he brings his face closer to where you need him most. “Wanna taste this pretty pussy, darlin’,” Logan grunts, and his tongue swipes through your folds, dragging across your slit and up to your clit. 

You curse under your breath as Logan licks another long stripe, his tongue finishing with a flick to your clit. “So fucking sweet,” Logan murmurs against you, the bass and vibration of his voice sending a burst of pleasure up your spine. “Knew you’d taste so good, pretty girl.” 

Logan pulls you closer to him, burying his face into your cunt like a man starved. He takes your clit between his lips, sucking roughly. His fingertips slide up your inner thigh, drawing higher and higher until he finds your folds. 

“Such a fucking tease,” Logan mutters, spreading your slick, prodding your entrance. “Using cards as an excuse to take your clothes off for me.” He shoves two fingers deep inside you as his tongue circles your clit. “Wanted me that bad, huh?” You can feel him smiling against you, all smug as he pulls his fingers from your slit and plunges back in. 

“Y-yes,” you stutter. His grip is like iron across your hips, keeping you in place, stopping you from squirming. “Wanted y-you so fucking bad.” 

He pumps his fingers in and out, down to the knuckles as he laps at you. He sucks at your clit again, harder this time. “I know, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, his thumb rubbing against your hip as his thrusts become faster, deeper. You’re already shaking underneath him—a trembling mess. “I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he coos. 

His tongue flicks your clit, swirling around the bud, adding more pressure with every stroke. Your walls flutter around his fingers, taking him in deeper. “Logan,” you whine, growing closer with every pump. “I-I—”

You’re cut off as he adds a third finger. “That what you needed, princess?” Logan asks, all cocky and self-assured. Your back arches off the mattress and Logan tightens his grip on your hips, holding you down as he devours you. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m finished with you.”

Your muscles clench around him at the words. His teeth graze lightly against your clit as he pulls the bud into his mouth, sucking roughly. “Lo…” You trail off, unable to use any semblance of language to communicate the way he’s making you feel. 

“Taking me so good, darlin’,” Logan praises, his fingers fucking into you unrelentingly. “Such a good fucking girl.” 

You’re so close, almost at that edge, pleasure burning through your every nerve ending. “’L-Lo I’m so—” you choke out.

“So fucked out that all you can say is my name,” Logan teases, sucking on your clit between sentences. “Wanna feel you come around my fingers.” He pushes himself in deeper. “Wanna taste it.”

“F-fuck,” you stutter, contracting around him uncontrollably. The tension building in your stomach finally snaps, the fire set free to burn through your body. “Logan!” You cry out, chanting his name like it’s a sacred prayer. And maybe it is.  

“I’ve got you,” Logan soothes, his tongue still lapping at you, his fingers still thrusting in and out. “I’m right here, let go for me.” He works you through your orgasm, his pumps slowing down as you ride out your high.

He pulls his fingers from your cunt, but his face doesn’t move. He’s still lapping at you, his tongue swiping through your folds, your slit, up to your clit. He’s drinking you in, savoring the taste of you. 

“Lo,” you whimper, running your hands through his hair, trying to guide him up your body. But he doesn’t budge. He grunts against your core, his tongue dragging through your heat. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

He licks one more long stripe through your folds before finally lifting his head to look up at you. Your release is painted across his lips, glistening in the moonlight. His tongue darts out, licking away the proof of your orgasm. 

“Need me, sweetheart?” He asks, sitting up, unbuckling his belt and letting it fall to the floor with a clink. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls his zipper down. “Need me to fuck you?” You nod, settling into the pillows at his headboard as he tugs his jeans and boxers down his legs. 

His cock springs free, bouncing against his stomach. You swallow nervously at the size of him. He settles on top of you, balancing on his forearm as he guides his cock to your entrance. 

Logan presses a chaste kiss to your lips as his tip nudges through your folds. “Thought about this for a long time,” he murmurs, the head of his cock bumping against your clit before sliding back down towards your entrance. His lips meet yours again, more hurried and hungry this time. “Always thinking about you.” And then he buries himself deep inside you, down to the hilt. He stalls, unmoving, giving you a moment to adjust to the size of him. He’s stretching you out, working you open. You grab his biceps, searching for purchase. Nothing could have prepared you for this, for the way he fills you up and makes you feel whole. 

“Feels so fucking good,” Logan whispers, pulling out and pushing all the way back in. “So tight, so perfect,” he praises, slowly setting a rhythmic pace, pumping in and out. 

His hand leaves the base of his cock and slips between your bodies, finding your clit—still sensitive from your first orgasm. His thumb strokes soft circles into the bud, drawing a moan from your lips. 

“Y-yes,” you pant as Logan plunges into you, faster and deeper with each thrust. You can feel him throbbing inside you, his cock dragging against your walls. It’s already too much—already more than you can handle. “F-feels so good, Lo.”

His hips snap against yours. “I know it does, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you. “Gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel good.” His words go straight to your core, your muscles contracting around him. He curses under his breath at the feeling, your pussy taking him deeper as he sinks inside you. “Squeezing me already, sweetheart.”

He’s fucking into you, his pace growing reckless and punishing. He adds more pressure to your clit, rubbing harder, faster. You don’t know how much longer you’ll last, not with his lips at the shell of your ear whispering praises. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he husks, his hips rocking against yours. “Taking me so good, doing so well for me.” He’s hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. He swallows your moans with starving, desperate, needy kisses—biting your lips, bruising them. He’s consuming you, taking everything you have to give him. 

He presses his forehead to yours, pounding into you, somehow finding a way to sink deeper inside. Your walls flutter around him, and you know you’re almost there. “Logan,” you croak, pushing your hips into his. 

“F-fuck,” he stammers, his cock twitching inside you, massaging your inner walls. “I know princess, know you’re close.” You can feel his thrusts faltering, growing sloppier. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, pretty girl.” You moan his name, wrapping your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he pumps in and out. “Come for me, darlin’.”

Logan pinches your clit and buries himself deep inside, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes into you, your walls clenching around him, squeezing him tighter. “Stay,” you whisper, and he knows what you mean—knows exactly what you’re asking for.

He curses under his breath and his head falls to your shoulder as he comes undone, too, filling you up, spilling inside you. Everything is liquid heat. Your muscles contract and relax, your shoulders melting into the mattress. Everything feels hazy as Logan gently strokes your clit, thrusting in and out of you slowly, riding out your orgasms. 

He finally pulls out, wrapping his arms around your back and rolling you over so that you lay on top of his chest. He holds you close, his fingers trailing up and down your back. He kisses the crown of your head. “You okay?” He whispers into the silence of the room. 

“Yeah,” you answer, burying your face into his chest. “’M’perfect.”

He presses another kiss to the top of your head. “Wanted you for so long, princess,” he husks, his voice deep and raspy. 

“Wanted you, too, Lo,” you say, pressing a kiss to his chest. 

You can hear his heart beating; can hear every breath he takes. You can even hear the smile in his voice. “You have a terrible poker face, you know.”

You laugh softly, lifting your head from his chest. “I think it’s just fine, thank you very much.” He’s smiling down at you, his hair a mess, sweat still on his brow. He’s perfect. So fucking perfect. “And besides, you’re the one who suggested strip poker.”

He shakes his head, tugging you back down to his chest. “Should’ve played it sooner.” You can feel his chuckle reverberate through his lungs. “We can play again if you want…”“…but this time we skip the poker part.”

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr

[ghettogirly]

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐂:

⇨ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄!

-> synopsis: to which you’re his bestfriend’s lover, but that doesn’t stop him from getting what he wants.

[🕷️] warnings: mature themes, mentions of alcohol, mature language, sex, fingering, kissing, infidelity, Armando is a shit friend!

Authors note: First time writing smut in a long time. Bear with it. Let me know if you guys want a Part Two!

Minors DNI.

The mini tavern was bustling with energy as people chattered away, drinks and drinks flooding the tables. People felt free the more alcohol they took, letting the drug overpower their body as their conscious state slowly fades into a drunken mess. The shouts would the house, the rough echoing of the footsteps along the wooden floor were the main sounds of the room due to the groups high excitement.

However, one man was not in the same mood as the others. Focused on something else.

Armando’s deep, brown eyes were in a trance as you walked across the room, glistening in mesmerisation as you began to sit down next to your boyfriend. He could tell you wasn’t happy, the spark in your eyes being no more from the start of the relationship where he first was introduced to you. Your lack of interest in your boyfriend’s conversation with another man. Initially, you both didn’t really talk. He just nodded to you and then whisked your boyfriend away for a “private conversation”. You hoped for more of a reaction from your lovers best friend, disappointed by the plain, uninterested response from him.

You came to the conclusion that he didn’t like you. But, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

He loathed your boyfriend, believing he didn’t deserve to be with someone like you. You were innocent, loving and was worth way more than someone who constantly disrespected you. On his mind 24 hours a day, obsessive thought clouded his mind. He couldn’t fathom how amazing you were as a person.

Unfortunately, you didn’t see it yourself.

Snapping back into the room, Armando notices you sitting there alone. Sick and tired of your boyfriend’s mistreatment, he decides to walk over to you and sit by your side.

“Where did he go?” Armando asks while taking a sip of his drink, preparing to be slightly amused by whatever excuse you’re going to use for his disappearance. However, something is different. You look at him with a lack of love in your eyes, your face clearly tired as you succumb to your emotions of disappointment. “I don’t even know.” Y/N exhales.

Silence fills the moment between you two for a minute before the male opens his mouth, “Why are you still with him?”

This clearly catches the girl off guard, shocked by the lack of loyalty from the leader who preaches devotion to his followers and workers. Nevertheless, Y/N responds to him. “I don’t know anymore.”

Armando scoffs, rolling his eyes at your answer. However, an expression of pity seems to cascade down his face. “I could be better than him mi cariña.”

Y/N looks up at him in shock, the man you thought who hated you just confessed his longing of wanting to replace your lover. The male stood up, casting a shadow over you as he blocked out the dim, warm light illuminating from the lantern which hung off the ceiling. He held out his hand,

“Come.”

[🕷️]

The red, velvet sheets comforted you as you slightly exhaled at the little touches of his lips that littered all over your body, they savoured every crevice of your smooth skin, holding you close, not wanting to let you go. Your back slightly arched at the feeling of his hand helping his lips explore your body, the cold touch contrasting with the warm sensation that was now growing in your body making the tiny hairs on your body stand up.

He watches your reaction, captivated by the way your body responds to him. He dips his head and takes your right nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before biting down on it softly causing you to gasp at the feeling. “You like that?”

“Mhm..”

He continues to tease and caress your breasts, alternating between rough and gentle touches to gauge which one you prefer. He moves his hand slowly down to the waistband of your pants, before slowly stopping and looking into your lustful eyes. “Am i allowed?” He asks, his smooth mexican accent filled with desire.

“Please do..” you whisper to him, biting your lip in eagerness as you want him to please you more. He wastes no time. His hands move lower and lower before slipping underneath your panties, slowly sliding them off you and throwing them onto the floor. Finding your clit, he starts rubbing it gently, increasing his pressure as he feels it pulsating at his touch. “Fuck..”

His hand moves faster and faster as he feels you getting wetter, his own desire growing stronger by the second. Leaning in, he kisses you fiercely his tongue invading your mouth as you moan into it, running your hands slowly through his hair.

He slips one finger in. Then two.

You gasp at the bold move, moaning slightly as he stretches you out. The warmth in you increases as you become closer and closer to the edge. He begins to move his fingers in and out, you justices coating his tan, slim fingers as they hit that special spot inside of you repeatedly that has you squirming underneath him.

“F-fuck, i’m so close.” “Oh my god!” Your endless babbling at the pleasure brings music to his ears, smiling down at you as you come close to your orgasm. “That’s it baby..”

The male then goes straight back down to your neck, sucking on your delicate skin to create purple and red marks while he continues to finger you. This causes you to see stars, that being the final straw which causes you to cum all over his fingers, your juices dripping down them as your toes curl. “Fucking hell..”

“This night isn’t over yet.”

Oh shit.

[captain039]

PART 5 Heal your hurt

Viktor x reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, health issues, mental health issues, light swearing, chubby reader, intimacy, sexual, friends to lovers, reader has chronic pain

Previous part <-

Time rolled by easily for once. Mornings were suddenly your favourite time, Viktor always had tea ready for you on the counter, giving you a soft good morning and gentle kiss to the cheek or head when you’d come out of your room half asleep. Lately, he’d been coming home late and leaving early barely getting more than two hours of sleep. It worried you and your thoughts would spiral out of control. You figured Viktor wasn’t an overly affectionate man, soft subtle things more than grand gestures, but this? Maybe you should’ve expected it he’s married to his work trying to crack hextech or whatever he worked on, always trying to crack a code or having theories conjuring. You lay on your bed staring at the ceiling hand resting on your stomach one behind your head. It was midnight by now and you were too lost in a spiral of overthinking. Hardly having any experience with men and your expectations built off books you found yourself stuck in your fantasies and perfect romance and the cold harsh kiss of reality. He was just busy. You curl up rolling onto your side. Those sweet mornings and sweet touches were paradise, his confession left you with warmth but you didn’t have a verbal confirmation that he wanted a relationship, was this a talking period? Learning each other, but you knew him…didn’t you?

The door creaks open and you curl in on yourself impossibly more wondering if he’d just stumble to his bed, quite literally you figured he sleptwalk here. A soft call of your name makes you tense all the lights are off save for the sliver of moonlight seeping in through the window. You listen to the sound of his cane and steps stopping at your doorway. You act asleep hoping he’d leave but it’s easy to see you’re not. You listen to his steps get closer before the bed dips with a sigh from his lips as he sits. He just sits for a moment and the silence is deafening, you want to turn and snap at him to piss him off but you sigh instead.

“Jayce says hello,” he says quietly and you want to scoff.

“We’ve made a breakthrough with the hexcore” You listen to him shuffle a bit behind you before he stills again. You don’t answer him staring at the darkened wall.

“That’s good” you mutter in response and you listen to his soft sigh of relief.

“I must admit I am not good with-“ he trails off with another sigh.

“Can- can I hold you?” His voice is quite barely above a whisper. You don’t answer verbally you shuffle closer to the wall though and you listen to the sound of a brace coming off the soft thud of his cane being leant against your bedside table and the creak of your bed as he lies down. You tense a bit as he slowly shuffles closer his arm resting over your waist his breath fanning your neck his knees hitting the back of yours. You want to bury your face in the pillow his body so different to yours. His slender bony frame compared to your plush form, he doesn’t feel uncomfortable though, the warmth of his breath the warmth of his body his slender fingers tracing over your hand before he intertwines your hands. You take a shaky breath and close your eyes.

Morning comes, and you awake first with the unfamiliar warmth against your back making you hyper-aware. You open your eyes, you’re surprised you didn’t move throughout the night, you always end up tangled in your blankets. Viktors pressed himself closer or you pressed yourself back to him you don’t know. His breath is closer you feel his nose in your hair his legs are tangled with yours and you worry that you’re going to hurt his leg. His chest is to your back, you can faintly feel his heartbeat slow and steady against your slowly rising one. You notice his hand still clutching yours over your waist. You also notice his hips right against yours and something-

Viktor groans softly and you tense at the sound, it sounds so raw and strange from him, that you find yourself wanting to hear it again. You act asleep figuring he’s waking up as his hand gently squeezes yours.

“Good morning” he whispers his accent coming through thick and you curse him silently of course he knows you’re awake.

“Morning,” you say softly his hips grinding against yours, you wonder if he realised he did it. He hums low in his throat it almost sounds like a purr as he comes out of his morning haze. He tenses a bit then and you don’t move either.

“I- I’m sorry” he says embarrassment clear in his voice as he goes to move away. You hold his hand tightly though so he can’t fully retreat. You can feel his frown as he relaxes back a little his hips not touching yours.

“It’s- a- normal reaction in the morning” Science you sound like a fool, he laughs softly though and your cheeks heat.

“I admit it hasn’t happened in a while,” he says quietly against your head and you frown. It makes sense though he usually sleeps at the lab or gets two hours of sleep.

“Well you always sleep at the lab, or don’t,” you say trying to sound casual but failing.

“Nor was I pressed against you,” he says a huskiness in his voice that surprises you, it makes his accent thicker, his breath feels warmer on your neck and you feel your stomach do a little clench of excitement. You lay there for a moment feeling Viktor's thumb gently stroke over your fingers.

“Progress day is coming up” he says suddenly and you frown for a moment, you’d forgotten about it.

“It is,” you say.

“Are you and Jayce doing some grand reveal?” You ask your previous heated thoughts dying.

“Jayce is” he corrects and a smile laces your lips, you remember the last progress day. Jayce had tried so hard to get Viktor to interact and socialise to show Jayce wasn’t the only one doing the work but Viktor had simply given short answers and small smiles before going to hide in the lab. You remember that night, you’d follow him back to the lab and he’d begin to explain to you the hexcore, you didn’t understand anything of what he said but listened to his voice.

“Would- would you like to go?” He asks and you finally roll over. Viktor frowns when you do but he realises you’re just rolling over to face him, he lets go of your hand before taking it again resting it in between you both his golden eyes looking at yours.

“Of course, It’s yours and Jayces special time of recognition” You smile and you see the faint red in his cheeks.

“I meant together” he repeats and you frown, you all went together last year why would this year be different?

“As my plus one” he says a little harder and it finally clicks when he says it.

“You are oblivious” he mutters a smile on his lips and you glare at him.

“I am not, I was confused! We all went together last year I didn’t see why this year would be different” you huff at him making him chuckle his face leaning in closer his lips pressing between your eyebrows.

“That doesn’t make up for it” you say seeing his smile continue to play at his lips as he stays leant in.

“Allow me to continue,” he says in that husky tone again. He kisses your cheeks, your nose, over your eyes before he descends to your mouth. Your lips part and your breaths mix before he kisses you with a new gentleness. It’s soft, barely a press of lips, gentle, a share of breath. He takes the hand he’s holding to rest it on his neck before he moves to your cheek. He tilts your head and presses closer his lips pressing harder against yours. The small noise that leaves your lips isn’t one you allow as you cup his neck and tug him closer. He lifts his upper half a little, kissing you deeper as he guides your head to follow his. Your hand moves to grip his shoulders to ground yourself as he moves closer forcing you to roll onto your back his body half on yours. You moan and suck in a quick breath when he leans back slightly to move, he takes an opportunity though, his tongue sliding in your mouth easily stealing your breath again. He’s lying on you now, one of his legs between yours. He’s too good at this you think as his hand trails down your neck his slender but long fingers trailing over your pulse point before holding your neck. It makes you gasp out and he leans back for a moment his eyes opening a new intensity you’ve never seen before swirling in them. He gives a gentle squeeze and your body responds, a heartbeat skipped, your stomach clenching, your breath catching. He studies you for a moment watching you, watching your reactions before kissing you again. You feel him move again his knee pressing against your clothed heat. You’re wearing pj shorts and underwear and you think you’ve soaked right through both. You move without thinking your hips moving so you get some sweet friction, the pressure on your throat and core leaves you even more breathless and it feels too much. Viktor pulls back and you suck in air greedily hips stilling. You’re in a flushed state of shock and euphoria, your mind taking a moment to catch up. You blink a few times to focus on Viktor who continues to study you. You feel his hardness against your hip cheeks probably going redder before your logic kicks in.

“Your leg-“ you say rushed and worried but you see his good leg bent pressing against your clothes core, his bad leg still straight.

“You are…” he trails off and you realise he probably didn’t even hear your worry with how intensely he’s looking over your face. You grow embarrassed you’ve never been confident in your looks, you figure your double chin is present, you doubt it’s a good look. His brows furrow in a frown.

“Why do you have that look?” He asks voice quiet and still a little breathless.

“Nothing” you mumble avoiding his eyes and his frown deepens his hand moving from your neck to your cheek.

“You do not see how exquisite you truly are” his voice is soft thick with his accent, raw unrefined, something in his gaze is deep and swirling.

Next part ->

[rekino2114]

I think you might like this since it's Chainsaw Man's best stoic girl Fami~, where Asa and Yoru first meet Fami's boyfriend. They think he's just some random bystander or classmate who overheard their conversation, which could mean trouble when all of a sudden Fami kisses him and introduces him.

Asa and yoru meeting fami's boyfriend

"Do you always eat alone?"

"Yes"

"Every day i discover you're even more pathetic than i thought, how is that even possible?"

"Shut up"

"No it's so boring here"

"I don't care, just shut up, we're in public. What are people gonna think if they see me talk to myself?"

"To be honest, you definitely seem like the type to talk to yourself"

"............"

"Just chill out even if someone overhears us. I'll take care of them, I haven't gotten a new weapon in a while now that I think about it"

"You are not killing anyone of my classmates"

Just as yoru was about to answer asa saw a boy getting closer to her

"Oh hey, you're asa mitaka, right? My girlfriend said I had to meet with you"

"Uh yeah, but are you sure she's talking about me? I'm not.......really friends with anyone"

"Oh no, yeah, it is you. Well, I guess it's yoru, but you know-"

"WHAT?!"

"H-he knows about me?"

"Do you-do you know him?"

"Of course not, how the hell would I? Just let me out so I can kill him"

"N-no we're in-"

"Sorry if I'm late"

You and asa both turned to see fami sitting at the table with a giant plate of food in front of her

"F-fami? What is she-"

"Oh hi babe"

You got closer to her lips as she kissed you. It lasted only for a few seconds, but like all of fami's kisses, it was wonderful.

"YOU'RE DATING!?"

"W-what's happening?"

"asa, can you let war out, I want to have this conversation with her"

"Yes, thank you, I really don't wanna see how this goes. Just stop her if she tries to kill someone"

Fami nodded as Asa fell unconscious. After a bit scars appeared on her face, and when she opened her eyes, they were yellow and ringed, just like fami, yoru immediately started glaring at you and your girlfriend who was just eating looking as unbothered as ever

"OK what's this about? Why the hell did you tell a human about me?"

"He's my boyfriend"

"So?"

"I've heard it's polite to introduce your lover to your family, y/n has already done it, so now it's my turn. He already met control and she liked him so I wanted him to meet you too"

"Pfft as if I care about your stupid boyfriend, you seriously revealed my identity to a random guy just cause you liked him?"

Hearing those words fami stopped eating and looked at yoru, her cold eyes making the war devil feel a bit uneasy

"Apologize"

"H-hm?"

"Apologize to y/n for what you said"

"O-oh no fami it's fine"

"Don't worry, as the older sister, it's my duty to discipline her, now apologize"

"F-fine ok geez, I'm sorry"

"Good"

You smiled and mentally thanked fami. To try and start again, you held your hand out to her sister

"Thanks it's nice to meet you by the-"

"I suggest you don't shake my hand, unless you wanna be turned into a weapon that is, not that I would mind"

Just as she finished that sentence yoru felt those cold eyes stare at her again, making her sweat a bit. She shook your hand reluctantly

"Hey y/n, do you mind grabbing me another plate of pasta? I finished mine, grab something else for yourself if you want"

"Sure"

Fami thanked you and kissed your cheek as you went away from the table. yoru sighed, thankful that she didn't have to fake being nice anymore

"I still can't believe you-"

"Hey war, listen to me"

The youngest horseman suddenly tensed even more at her sister's tone. She always sounded emotionless and cold, but this time, there was something more to her voice, something that made yoru feel inexplicably nervous

"I already told you I'd do anything for you, but there's an exception"

Fami gulped down the last of her food and looked at her even more coldly

"If you hurt y/n in any way, I will kill you"

Both yoru and even asa from inside her body were so shocked by her sentence that they started sweating simultaneously

"The love I feel for him is much greater than any sisterly bond I may have with you, I love y/n more than anything, even more than food, and I don't tolerate anything happening to him, the fact that you're my sister doesn't change anything. Do you understand?"

"W-what the why are you-"

"Do you understand, war?"

Fami was now practically killing yoru with her glare, even asa felt herself tensing up as she continued staring at them with an unblinking cold stare

".........y-yes"

"Good, as long as you understand that we shouldn't have any problems"

".........w-were you scared by your sister?"

"S-shut up its not like that"

As yoru and asa continued arguing with themselves, you came back to the table with the plates, fami kissed you again as thanks, and you continued chatting

"Sorry yoru, maybe we started on the wrong foot. I don't care if you're possessing asa and I won't tell anyone, I am dating a devil after all, I just hope we can get along"

"I'm sure you will.......right war?"

".....y-yeah"

Meanwhile asa is giggling inside her head because it's funny seeing yoru scared for a change

[soubeomies]

꒰୨୧◞ ₊˚ 𝓘 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍

⤷ 𝓟𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ﹕ leehan x fem!reader

⤷ 𝓦𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ﹕ none!

⤷ 𝓖𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 ﹕ fluff

⤷ 𝓦𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝓒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ﹕ 635

⤷ 𝓐𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋’𝗌 𝓝𝗈𝗍𝖾 ﹕ i’ve barely written for friends to lovers, lol!!! i hope this satisfies :)

⤷ 𝓢𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 ﹕ even though you have been friends with leehan for a good amount of time, it’s only until recently that you realize that he’s actually so dreamy.

finding yourself lost in your thoughts, the scene of leehans hand accidentally brushing against yours replaying in your head. you don’t even know why it made you feel this way, the both of you were just friends.

but why were you seeing him in a different light? it’s been years since the two of you naturally became friends. simply because being with one another was almost as therapeutic as snuggling with a fluffy blanket on a cold night. why were you just now realizing how dreamy he actually is?

you were in your own little world, accompanied by all of these thoughts. why is your heart racing?

you suddenly hear a muffled voice call out for you. “helloo? earth to y/n?” leehan says in a confused manner, waving his hand in front of your face to get your attention.

you finally snap out of your daze, locking eyes with leehan. fuck. you feel heat surge through your body as he stares at you with his big brown eyes. “y/n..? are you okay? you’ve been blanking out alot.” he asks, his eyes wandering around your face to see if there was a change in your expression.

you quickly shake your head, denying anything he’s saying. “no no! i’m fine! just.. thinking!” you say in a somewhat panicked tone. “you sure?” he questions with a subtle smirk slowly appearing across his face. you reply to him with a nod.

he reaches out his hand to your hair as he tucks your hair behind your ear, revealing your bare ear. “your ears are all red,” you stare at him blankly. you’ve just been caught red handed.

“hannie, i can explain—“ he looks at you expectantly, waiting for an answer. after a few seconds pass with complete silence, “yeah? you were saying?” he teases.

you sigh in defeat, “it’s whatever.” you try to dismiss his question, which was asking if you were okay. “i’m not letting you go that easy,” he pauses before continuing “tell me, what’s up? what’s got you so flustered?” he asks.

he looks into your eyes, waiting for your answer. “i— i can’t say it.” you mutter under your breath. “why not?” he questions you yet again, what’s with him and all these damn questions?!

“i just can’t!” you exclaim, “hm? you’re a little red.” he claims as he lets out a teasing chuckle. the next few seconds felt excruciatingly long and.. awkward.

“fine! i like you!” you blurt out, quickly realizing what you had just said.. you being your hands to your mouth. closely examining his expression, he quickly smirks. “you do?” he interrogates, his complexion warmed with a rosy hue.

did you really just say that?

“w—we can just forget about this and move on,” you noted in hopes to just move on from this whole mess that you have just gotten yourself into. out of pure embarrassment, you stare at your shoes beneath the table. the silence was dreadful as it was broken by leehans soft voice. “move on?” he took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing, “how could i possibly move on after hearing you say the three words i’ve been impatiently expecting?”

your eyes practically shoot up to his, glaring at him in pure shock. “e—expecting? what do you even mean?” did he really reciprocate your feelings? was this a dream? ah, pinch yourself right now!

“.. i like you too, y/n” he took a deep breath before picking up where he had left off. “i’ve liked— no.. i’ve loved you for awhile now,”

now the both of you were staring at eachother like dumbasses, the both of you had both your cheeks flushed with a sheer tint of crimson red. you never thought you’d ever be in the situation with leehan, but here you are.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ networks : @kstrucknet

© soubeomies 2024 all rights reserved ♡ do not copy/repost my works.

[pinkthrone445]

-Welcome Home-

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:soft, fluf, friends to lovers(?)

Warnings:I don't think so

Summary:You come back home after many years and your mom's friend welcomes you like if time never passed.

One more Mother's Day, one more day in which Melissa would go to spend it at Barbara's house and her family. The redhead was already part of the family, it was normal for her to be there on normal days and on special days, she even had a room for herself when she decided to stay overnight, it was actually Barbara's daughter's room, but since she no longer lived there, she had arranged for Mel to occupy if she wanted.

The redhead thought that the only thing different about this Mother's Day would be that Gregory would be there and that Barb was a little upset about the loss of her mother, but she was surprised when even though all the guests were already in the house, there was another knock on the door

-"I'll get it!" - The redhead commented and got up from the table to go answer the door. As soon as she opened the door, before she had time to react, a hand covered her mouth and another hand grabbed her tightly by the waist. A thousand ways to defend herself and hurt someone went through the redhead's head, but when she paid attention to the person who had taken her, her eyebrows shot up at the sky when she saw that it was you with a smile from ear to ear.

While she continued with a surprised face, you removed your hand from her waist and rested a finger on your mouth making a sign for her to remain silent and the redhead nodded, carefully you removed the hand that covered her mouth and hugged her tightly against your body, a hug that the redhead immediately returned

-"How? When did you get here? Why you didn't say something? I could have gone to pick you up from the airport" - The redhead asked, whispering in your ear, still hugging you

-"I wanted to be a surprise for all, specially for my Mom, I knew she would need us all for this mother's day since nana isn't here anymore" - You responded by hugging her tighter as if that were possible.

You were Barbara's eldest daughter, she and Geral had adopted you when you turned 16 and took care of you as if you were one of them from that moment on, never differentiating between you and their biological daughter.

Mel had known you for years, she accompanied you to get your first pircing, your first tattoo, to buy underwear for the first time you were going out with your girlfriend (underwear more sexy than the one Barbara sometimes bought you), she even helped you tell Barbara when you came out of the closet and she took you for drinks when you turned 21. But it had been more than 8 years since you had seen each other, since you had gone to work for the doctors without borders you sometimes saw your family but it was hard for you to stay long enough to see her, although you still talked from time to time by messages, it was not the same as seeing you again and being able to hug you like she was doing now.

-"Melissa? Who was it? Come eat before it gets cold!" - Barbara yelled from the table and finally the redhead stopped hugging you but held your hands with a smile from ear to ear

-"You are gorgeous...Look how grown up you look" -she whispered with shinny eyes-"Let's go surprise your mother"-

Mel walked into the dining room in front of you, covering your silhouette with her body

-"Barb, someone send you a gift for mother's day" - The redhead spoke and her friend looked at her in confusion

-"What? Who?" - Barbara got up from the table and Mel moved out of the hallway letting you see completely

-"Hi mom, happy mother's day" - You screamed with open arms and Barbara almost got something in her heart

-"My baby!" - Your mother hugged you tightly, letting out a couple of tears-"Thank you Jesus for bringing my baby safely to her home" - Barbara kissed your forehead repeatedly as she praised the lord - "I missed you so much! Why you didn't tell us something?!" - Your mother commented annoyed and slapped your arm and then hugged you again-"This is the best gift ever" - she keep mumbling things without stop hugging you

-"Love, will you let me hug my daughter?" - Geral asked and Barbara denied with her head, you opened your arm so that he could hug you even if Barbara didn't let go, your father kissed your forehead and hugged you and your mother eagerly, a hug to which Taylor your sister also joined

-"Mel come here too" - You invited the redhead who was watching the whole scene from the side. Mel laughed and also joined in the family hug.

When Barbara finally let go of you and stopped crying and praising the lord because you had come home, the meal resumed its course and you sat down next to Mel to eat.

As if time hadn't passed, you and Mel were already whispering about things while eating, which caused your mother to scold you for talking about gossip and things that weren't appropriate for the table, especially having a guest like Gregory.

When the meal was over and your mother went to talk to Gregory, you and Mel cleared the table and started washing and drying the dishes together

-"Soooo... How is the relationship with that firefighter?" - You asked raising your eyebrows trying to bring out the true tone of the question

-"What relationship? I was just following your advice and have sex without attachment, casual as you called it...But it didn't work that much, I need some kind of connection to have good sex. So I stopped seeing him"-Mel responded by drying a plate harder than necessary

-"It was so funny when Mom found out, she called me and told me about it and asked me what Bridgeton was, I told her to watch it and then she called me mad because it had naked people and steamy sex on it... I'm sorry it didn't work tho..."-You replied with a little smile

-"It's okay, it was worth trying at least to know what I want" - she replied

-"The only thing left for you to try is to date a woman, I know you've always been curious about that" - You joked and she rolled her eyes laughing- "Remember my first girlfriend? The one that you told me to bring to your house to meet her and see if she was good for me, when she went she brought marijuana cigarettes to your house and you kick her out, but you end up keeping the cigarettes and we ended up smoking together, and then you cooked the tastiest pasta I've ever eaten in my entire life. Remember?"-You commented, putting the last dishes on the cabinet and she nodded laughing

-"You have to admit she was an asshole, she was texting other people while she was there, that's why I kicked her out, she was no good enough for you, and the cigarettes were the price she had to pay for being stupid" - she muttered and you rolled your eyes walking into the living room sitting down and turning on the TV

-"She was an asshole, but you also never liked any of my girlfriends..."-The redhead laughed sitting next to you and passing you some popcorn that she had done in the microwave and then taking out her needles and yarn to start knitting while watching TV

-"I just wanted to take care of you... I imagine that now that you were on your own 8 years you didn't need my help to choose someone" - The redhead commented, knitting in concentration and you took the opportunity to look at her features carefully

-"I needed you more that you imagine... I really missed you Mel, you and this silly conversations" - You murmured and put your feet on her lap, she settled down so that you were comfortable and she could continue knitting without disturbing you

-"I missed you too Hon, a lot...There is some stuff I can't talk to your mom" - Mel looked at you smiling and you smiled back, looking at how her hand moved while she was moving the needles

-"Tell me about it, she will brun me with her eyes and judge me if I tell her all the stuff that you already know... What are you knitting there?" - You asked with a frown

-"I'm making you a scarf, I remember how you told me that most of the countries you go to help are cold, I don't want you to get sick" - She showed you the color of the yarn and it was no coincidence that it was your favorite

-"That's sweet... But I'm not coming back to work that far away again... I miss being close to you all, I miss home... I got a new job in one of the hospitals here... But I still want the scarf please..."-You mumbled and filled your mouth with popcorn

-"You are staying?"-Melissa put the needles aside and you nodded chewing, her eyes had a particular sparkle that you hadn't seen before, as if she was going to cry but at the same time she was overflowing with joy-"I can't belive it! You are staying!!" - The redhead put everything aside and pounced on you on the couch hugging you tightly, catching you in her arms, letting you trapped between her and the couch

-"Wow Mel" - You started laughing and hugged her back- "I didn't know you missed me so much" - happy you hid in her neck

-"I did, you have no idea... I don't have someone to smoke weed with beside you, and now your mom will stop complaining with me how worried she is about you living in other country with no place of your own to stay" - The redhead murmured against your hair, very happy at the news you had given her. For a few more moments you took the opportunity to enjoy the hug and the warmth of the woman, even though the hug was lasting longer than normal, you were very comfortable in her arms. It wasn't until your father, who was in the garden outside with the guests, decided to enter the house, that the woman stopped hugging you. The redhead picked up her knitting needles again, but with a smile that nothing could erase and you got your attention bact to the TV but sitting closer to her

-"You know... When you use your leather jacket, you look like poison ivi with your red hair, you should dress like that next Halloween" - You muttered eating the popcorn and letting your leg brush hers

-"And you are crazy like Harley Queen, maybe we should dress up like that together for next Halloween, we could have matching costumes from now on, now that you are back"-she commented and you nodded in agreement

-"Hey..."-Mel called your attention and you looked at her-"Do you want to go with me to my mother's house now in the afternoon? My Ma also missed you, she will be happy to see you..."- The redhead comment a little nervous

-"Sure, Mom will be probably a while with Eddie, so I don't have more plans" - You answered, it wouldn't be the first time you would be at her mother's house since when you were younger you used to go there often to eat the delicious food.

When the time came, Mel drove to her mother's house with you in the passenger seat. Upon arrival, the redhead put her hand behind the back of your seat so she could park in reverse. Her focused face and the position she was in made you stare at her longer than was considered appropriate but she didn't realized.

The redhead had 8 siblings and they all got together for Mother's Day, the only excuse not to go was if you were in prison, that's why only one of her brothers was missing. You really liked going to see her mother, you liked big families and they always made you feel at home, besides they were crazy and always made you laugh.

When you entered the house, everyone greeted you with big hugs and a kiss on each cheek. Mel's sisters began to fight and threaten the redhead and then ended up hugging her. The smell of food clouded all your senses and the warmth of the house made you feel at peace. The furniture was covered with plastic just like in Mel's house. Italian music played in the background as the redhead's mother sang and cooked. There were a lot of kids running and playing around the house, which you assumed were the redhead's nephews. There were some family members watching TV and others arranging the table, everything was a complete caos and at the same time everything was in perfect balance.

When you finished greeting the extended family, everything was ready to start eating.

You were too focused on how delicious the food was to pay attention to the topic of conversation they were having, it wasn't until Mel lightly kicked your foot under the table that you finally looked up from your plate

-"Help me" - she whispered only for you to hear

-"And when are you going to bring a boyfriend home? I won't be alive forever and I want to see you happy. Can't you see it breaks my heart to see you single"-Mel's mother reprimanded her in an annoyed tone and you laughed, earning yourself another kick from the redhead under the table-"You bambina, you should help her pick someone, I bet that you have many lovers behind you" - Mel's mother turned to you and you shook your head

-"I'm not very good at choosing partners, I don't know if I could help her much."-You commented laughing and Mel saw her chance to get revenge of you laughing at her

-"She is also single Ma, I don't think she is the right person to give me advice" - The redhead commented with a mocking smile

-"Maybe I wouldn't be single if you didn't kick every girl that showed interest on me" - You muttered under your breath

-"Wait, you are gay?" - Melissa's mother asked, and you nodded blushing

-"It's that a bad thing in this house?" - You asked and she shook her head and clasped her hands together

-"Not at all bambina! It's perfetto, you are single, pretty and gay, you should date my Melissa" - The woman commented very happily and you looked at the redhead who was already looking at you, after a few seconds of seriously looking at each other, you both began to laugh laudly, which her mother took as a mockery at her suggestion and hit you both on the head with the wooden spoon she was using to stir the sauce a few minutes ago.

After the meal and several glasses of wine, as it was tradition in Mel's house to get drunk together at mother's day, the redhead brought you a plate with sugared almonds so you could snack while you watched the TV together as a family, and then she sat next to you. The family were very laud repeating and chatting over the movie to actually hear the TV (apparently that movie was another tradition and they have seen it so many times that they all knew every part and dialog) but being by her side was entertaining enough for you to stay there.

After a few minutes of watching TV, without realizing it you fell asleep resting your head on the woman's shoulder, you didn't know if it was because of the wine you had drunk, the jetlag or how badly you slept on the plane, but you fell into a deep sleep leaning on her and hugging her arm, she felt so confy and gave you so much peace.

That night, you and the redhead slept over at her mother's house, you were so asleep that she didn't want to wake you up, so she called your mom to let her know and stayed with you there sleeping together on the couch hugging each other ,since all the other rooms were occupied by the others who were too drunk to drive home.

Despite the plastic on the couch and the scarcity of room to move, that was one of the best nights you had ever slept in your life, her arms were very relaxing and her hug made you not want to wake up anymore.

The days began to pass and your interaction with the redhead began to grow each day, making up for the lost time apart. Everything was a good excuse to hung out even if your mother wasn't there. You didn't realize it before how much you had really miss her.

Before you knew it, it was almost a month since you'd been back and your mother's work year was over and you were on your way to pick her and Mel up at a school end party they'd attended.

Bringing your mother home was more complicated than what you had imagined, getting her in the car with how drunk she was, was only achieved thanks to God's help that made you draw strength from where you didn't have to be able to pick her up and put her in the back seat of the car,she immediately took her shoes off and fall asleep.

Melissa was another case apart from your mother, she got in the car with no complaints, but she was very flirtatious and bold the whole drive. She kept making inappropriate comments or touching your legs while you were driving, something that made you very nervous and made very hard to keep your concentration.

Her actions and what she was making you feel, also drag you to a previous conversation with your mother...

-"You are spending a lot of time with Melissa..." - Your mother comment while you were cooking together

-"Yeah, I've miss her, my head didn't remember how much fun I used to had with her" - You responded by whipping up the preparation you had in the bowl and your mom nodded

-"Melissa is my friend" - she told you and you nodded her- "You see her as a friend too or something else?" - She asked and you laughed

-"She is my friend too mom, just that, the friends I used to had here don't are my friends anymore or their houses are in another place now, that's why I hang out with her so much. She is only my friend mom, I know what you are really asking, but I only see her as my friend, nothing else" - You explained while continuing to cook

-"I know your eyes... But if you are sure, I trust you..."-she didn't pride more into the subject.

If you only see her as a friend, why her touch and comments were making you so nervous and blushed, why did you like this much her flirting, why did you wish to reciprocate her touches?... Maybe you didn't see her only as a friend.

Pushing that though aside, you continued driving trying to ignore her and what she was doing.

When you arrived home, you let your mom in her room and went to yours, for your surprise, the redhead was already there, taking her clothes off and putting on your slepping shirt without nothing more than her underwear underneath.

-"Oh... Sorry Mel I keep forgetting that you used to use my room while I was away, I will sleep on the couch" - You muttered and grabbed one of your pillows and she laughed

-"Come here, how many times did we shared bed when you stayed at my house? Besides, your couch is very uncomfortable to sleep, we both know it, it's been years since I've told your mom she should change it" - she slurred her words and climbed into bed looking at you

-"I prefer this couch that sleep on yours or your mom's that have that plastic that makes noise even when I breath and besides makes you sweat on summer" - You sneered and climbed into bed with her, arranging the pillow you'd taken out.

Mel laughed softly and settled into bed looking at you as you stared at the ceiling, the conversation with your mother and the caresses of the car continued to swirl around in your head. Maybe this wasn't just a friendship, maybe you saw her as something more but you didn't want to admit it, but what if she didn't feel the same?

Your thoughts stopped and you frowned as the redhead sat on your hips

-"What are you doing Mel?"-You asked confused

-"I was talking to you but you are not paying attention to me" - She said offended, she was clearly very drunk still

-"Sorry, what where you saying?" - You looked at her trying not to get nervous, resting your hands on her legs

-"I said that I'm not sleppy... What if you touch me to pass the time" - she replied seriously and you blushed

-"W-what?!...Mel please, get off me, try to sleep a little" - You tried to calm the moment and her

-"No... I want kisses, please" - she start to play with the straps of your pijamas while pouting, you tried to stop her but before you could realize, the redhead bend to kiss you, sloppy but hot at the same time. She smelled like strong licor and her actions took you completely by surprise. But without thinking to much about it, you kiss her back.

Your hands were on her waist, clenching so hard you were sure your nails will leave a mark. You weren't stopping her but you weren't letting her go on further either. You loved her hips so much, it would be your new obsession, so wide and full. And her lips? So big and soft but so sinful at the same time. Her breath was heavy and desperate, almost as desperate as your heart was. You wanted to stop because this wasn't right but your body was yearning for you to go on. So many year fantasizing and imaging how her lips and hands would feel on you, but scared of letting those fantasies grow. But even if you were imagining this moment every second of your life, nothing could have prepared you to how truly heavenly she was.

But then again, this wasn't right, not like this.

Melissa was very drunk and this wasn't right. But she is so gorgeous, who cares if this wasn't right...

She was your mother's friend for God's sake, that wasn't right. But she was always so nice to you and always looked out for you...

She is older than you, this isn't right. But her hugs and lips felt like home, this was perfect. Melissa was your crush for several years and now your repressed fantasies might come true...

But no, this wasn't right, no like this.

You needed to stop

But you didn't want to

Stop

But you want to keep going

Stop

You loved her

Stop

You loved her and you knew this wasn't right for her.

So you carefully hold her tightly and gently pushed her away from your body and you stoped kissing her, even if your body was shacking to hold her again and even if your lips burned out for feeling her close, you knew this was the right thing to do. She looked at you confused with her hair and breathing a totally mess

-"Mel... Go to sleep please..." - You whispered and the embarrassed redhead turned her back on you and hid under the covers trying to sleep.

[priceyprice]

Prof!Price

Prof!Price as he's sitting on his couch, on a phone call with one of his colleagues.

On his other hand, he has a glass of bourbon that he was drinking from an hour ago. It was a late night, and the two of them agreed to make an important call so they could talk about a few students and their academic progress. Price just was at the comfort of his home listening to his friend. "Mike is failing my class. I've already called other professors, and they said he's doing fine with them. Is it the same for you?"

"Hmm... He's not my best student, but he isn't my worst either."

"Alice is failing my class, too. Is she failing yours?" Price agreed for his colleague to tell him the name of his students, and he tells him about their academic progress since he doesn't have his notebook where all their grades are (nor he doesn't care about that notebook right now late at night). He knows every student he has, part of being passionate about his job. "She's not failing my class, but she's late for an assignment that was due yesterday."

"Yeah, she always does that. It's not surprising. What about Cole?"

Price sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "He's doing fine, too. He scored a good grade on the last exam."

"He's doing bad in my class, which is confusing since the other professors told me he's good in their classes too. Man— Am I the problem?"

Price chuckled darkly at that. "Maybe."

"My methods of teaching are great. I don't understand why I have a lot of students failing."

"Because you're teaching statistics."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Everything."

Price could hear the wave of laughter from the other side of the call, making him smile a little. "You're an asshole... Oh, right! I almost forgot. What about-"

"J-John." His eyes snapped up at the same time his friend said her name. He tapped her naked thigh with his glass as a gesture of keeping silence. She lets out a little whimper, feeling the coldness of the glass. His name rolled out of her tongue by accident, but that didn't stop her from riding him like he's the only thing she could breathe.

Her hands go up, passing his shoulders until they find his neck, her fingers caressing his short hair. She's desperate. The call is taking longer than expected, and her lover —who's her professor— doesn't have any intentions of making the call shorter so he can have his way with her.

He's doing it on purpose.

"Hm? Who's she?" Price said teasingly, looking at the one the two of them were talking about. She looked so beautiful with her full body naked, going up and down on him, trying to search for a release. The dim light of his lamp table rests on her silhouette, making her look like the most beautiful art he has ever seen.

He's pretty sure a few gods from the Olympus are envious by the beauty she possesses while riding him. It was like he's her throne while she sat on him worshipping her.

"Oh wait, I remember her..." Price said in a husky voice, the feeling of her heat embracing him is making him crazy. He puts his glass on the table beside the couch and takes a strand of her nearly damp hair between his fingers, pressing a few light kisses.

"She's doing great in my class, a very intelligent student. What about yours?"

"Yeah, she's..." She's riding me right now, trying to stop her beautiful voice from moaning. "She's one of my top students. I can say she's on top of everyone... even of me." She gasps when his fingers start caressing the mons' pubis. "Shh..." He said lowly, looking at her big, desperate eyes.

"She's not my top student, but she's one of them."

"Yeah, she's very..." She lets out another whimper clenching around him when she feels him in her favorite spot. This was driving her crazy. The thought of her riding her professor while they were talking about her was the hottest turn on she ever had.

"Wait, give me a second. I think there's someone knocking on my door." Price puts the call on mute and looks at her. "My love, I need you to calm your voice."

"I c-can't. It's too much..." He caressed her cheek, stopping a tear. Then, he puts a few strands away from her sweating forehead, a very gentle expression, in contrast with how his cock is abusing her insides. "I know, baby, but I'm in an important call. Just use my cock however you like and when I'm finished I'll promise you to fuck you and please you like the goddess you are." She moaned as a response, her head falling against his shoulder.

Price unmuted his call and put his phone back on his ear. "Sorry, a lousy neighbor. Who are we discussing again?"

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I apologize for any misspelling and mistakes. Any suggestions or comments are appreciated. 🫶

[writingwisterias]

Day 5: Oral

ID! Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MNDI, Oral (F receiving), Friends - Lovers, Mutual Pinning, Masterlist

Leon was sprawled out on your couch as you watched the movie he rented, the empty popcorn bowl discarded on the coffee table in front of you along with many beer bottles and empty glasses. Neither of you was actually watching the movie, your conversation was far more interesting. “So is there anyone in office that you have a crush on? I know so many girls that swoop at you if you gave them the chance” You asked him, the alcohol in your system making you more open, and cheerful. Leon smiled at your carefree side, one that normally he was the only one to see. “God no, those girls make me cringe” he chuckled. “You never denied liking someone though” You said boldly hiding your smirk behind your glass as you watched him blush. You knew about his crush on you for a while, he let it slip after a previous drunken night out as you struggled to get him to sleep on the sofa. He thought it was the perfect time to profess his love to you. Leon sighed dramatically before finally looking at you, his cheeks dusted with a light blush. “You” 

You never thought he would put it so bluntly. Simply stating it like it was a fact he shouldn't have to remind you; like he had no other option but to love you. In his eyes that was the reason; being able to see you so carefree was something he would always treasure. Leon was aware you knew, it occurred to him later the next night as he lay in his own bed staring at the darkness of his ceiling - like some embarrassing moment coming back to haunt him. He was hoping the confession would make things move forward with you. If Leon was anything - it was loyal and patient. So despite wanting to admit it to you again, he let you take the reins of the situation. After all, you might not actually want him.

You could feel your heart rate pick up as you met his stare. His eyes scanned your body looking for any signs of rejection on your behalf, waiting again for you to confirm his suspicions. To make the first move. 

You were painfully slow as you moved to sit closer, your hand brushing along his jawline as you pulled him in for a kiss. Initially, It was slow as you familiarised each other with how you moved, tasted, and felt. His touch became dominating as he pushed you to the sofa, his body pinning you in place. His scent was intoxicating making your brain even more fuzzy as it mixed with the alcohol in your system. Leon toyed with the hem of your shirt, lingering there as he pulled away “Tell me to stop and I will” He whispered as he looked into your eyes.

You were probably moving too fast, faster than you would have with anyone else but with Leon it felt like you were making up for lost time, like you were always meant to be together. “Don’t stop” You responded, bringing him in for another kiss. Without hesitation he lifted your shirt above your head, breaking the kiss momentarily before replacing his lips again. Your fingers helped with his, pulling the old t-shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere in the living room. Your hands roamed his chiselled chest, his abs flexing as your cold fingertips brushed over them. He watched as you followed his hair down towards where it disappeared underneath his trousers. Leon chuckled as he watched you fumble with the belt, your finger shaking nervously as you tried to free what you currently desired most. 

“Not yet, what type of man am I to not treat his woman first?” Leon chuckled deeply before he started to pull down your leggings. He smirked at your gasp as he began to nibble on your thighs, moving up towards your pussy. His fingers swiped through your folds admiring the arousal that coated them as he pulled them away to inspect them.

“So wet already, look at that” he spoke. His words and actions caused your body to squirm, arching your hips to chase his fingers as your clit throbbed for attention. You shut your eyes, throwing your head backwards as you waited for his touch again. Leon grinned at your eagerness. His arms slid on either side of your body, grasping at your hips and lifting them ever so slightly before he licked a long stripe up your folds. He moaned at the taste of you. 

However, your head shot up, watching the mop of hair devour your pussy. You wanted to complain, pull his head away and please him first. Your cheeks dusted in a light blush at his actions, at the feel of his tongue as he licked and sucked at your entrance. “Leon- what are you…doing” you whimpered, tugging on the strands of his hair in an attempt to get him to face you, only for your action to elicit more moans to leave his lips. The vibrations were directly on top of your clit where he was now sucking harshly against the bud. Eventually, he did lift his head, his lips covered in a gloss of his spit and your arousal.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, concern flashing in his eyes at the look of your face, afraid silently that you were rejecting him. “Nothing…no one’s ever done this before- I didn’t want you to feel like you have to” You whispered, hands still gripping the strands of his hair. “No one has ever done this? Well, I’m glad to be the first” Leon chuckled, his breath fanning over your abused clit. He smiled at you before lowering his head to resume his feast. “No wait, I mean you don’t have to. I know it’s gross” you mumbled, gripping his hair to prevent him from lowering his head. Leon laughed, smirking at the embarrassment that grew over your features. “I’m not letting you do anything but cum on my face” He spoke, his voice low and demanding. His eyes darkened as he waited for you to reject him again, becoming irritated with you denying him this opportunity. 

Your grip on his hair loosened as you nodded slowly, not failing to notice his grin before he went back to sucking and licking your pussy. You gasped as you felt his tongue enter you as he swirled it and took everything he had to offer. Leon worked messily, your thighs soon be coming wet with your arousal and his spit. Your legs clenched around his head as you felt the oncoming wave, your hands tugging at his scalp again as your body stiffened.

“Come on sweetheart, I’m thirsty, cum on my face” he taunted against your clit. Kitten licking the nub with insane speed and accuracy. You whimpered and whined desperate for the release that you were tethering on the edge of. With one final groan from Leon, your orgasm shattered through you, your thighs practically suffocating him as they clenched around his head. “Leon- Oh god” You panted as he pulled away, his body moved up your as he searched for a kiss. You whined at the taste of yourself on his lips. “My turn” You smiled at him. Leon chuckled, shaking his head at him. “What about my seconds?” 

Leon chuckled at your shocked expression and kissed down your body before he began to feast upon you again.

Taglist: @kasueli @luvrgreyy @michellekmsh @miss0giarra @cinnabunnysavvy @redollface @my-loved-figure-skates @drawboo22 @luvlouiee @moth-quasar @nyxxoxo @misswynters

[lunaa-runee]

Constant Reminder

cw: Mafia AU, no curses, suggestive content, afab reader, major character death, hurt - no comfort

wc: 1.3k

The dimly lit room hummed with pulsating energy. Men dressed in fine suits filled the room, surrounded by a sea of scantily clad women who seemed to ooze seduction and desperation in equal measures. Amidst this lively scene, Kento sat alone at a corner table, his piercing gaze cutting through the haze of cigarette smoke as he nursed a glass of whiskey.

As the night wore on and drinks flowed freely, Kento's carefully cultivated network of informants worked their magic, extracting juicy secrets from unsuspecting businessmen. With each tidbit of information, Kento's power grew stronger, his influence reaching every corner of the city. This was his game - manipulating and controlling those around him through their deepest desires and darkest indiscretions. And he played it well, earning him the reputation of one of the city's most powerful men.

A hand lightly grazed against his shoulders, and he did his best to ignore it. But the woman, who owned the hand, was persistent as she planted herself on his lap. While most men would have welcomed such an opportunity, Kento was not one of them. He had to use all his self-control to keep from pushing her off of him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing," he grumbled.

"Kento," she purred into his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck. She leaned closer to him, exposing more of her chest as a blatant attempt at seduction.

Kento's eyes narrowed in a cold, stern glare." You should be working, we're busy."

"It's my night off." Daisy's finger, adorned with delicate red nail polish, glides over the contours of Kento's muscular chest

Daisy initially came to Tokyo for school but quickly became entangled in his world. Despite her attraction towards the underground businessman, he had no interest in being around her. His heart still belonged to someone who was no longer with him.

Kento's patience was growing thin, and his tone reflected this: "If you aren't working, you should go home. There's no point in staying here if you're not going to be useful to me."

Daisy pouted at his harsh tone, but her determination remained unshaken. As she leaned down to him, her lips trailed gentle kisses along his skin. "Why don't we sneak away to one of the private rooms and indulge in some playful fun?" she whispered seductively in his ear.

Kento's composure shattered in that instant. He forcefully pushed Daisy off his lap, her body crashing onto the hard floor. Her face twisted in shock. "Get out," he growled.

Fear took over her eyes, realizing her mistake in that moment. Quickly, she gathered herself, leaving his sight. She was at least smart enough to know he was not a man to test.

"How you can be so mean to such a beautiful woman I will never understand."

Kento sat back in his chair and tilted his head to better view his friend and business partner, who seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. "I didn't know you were going to be here Gojo. What do I owe this pleasure?"

"Can't a man just drop by to see his old pal?" Kento's narrowed gaze showed he knew there was probably some hidden purpose behind his visit. Gojo clicked his tongue, aware that Kento would likely brush him off anyway. He looked around the bustling club as another lucky guy was pulled towards the door that led to the private rooms. "I don't understand how you could turn down these poor girls who throw themselves at you."

"I'm not interested."

"You're seriously still hung up on that girl? It's been nearly two years."

Kento's chest tightened as he was overcome with bittersweet memories. The face of his former lover appeared in his mind, bringing back intense feelings of pain that time had failed to soften. He hadn't thought about her in a long time; she used to be the light in his life and motivated him to become a better person. However, he had waited too long to make changes.

The cool ocean breeze brought a new day through the open French doors. The sun shined softly through the window, illuminating the room with golden rays. Kento's gaze took in the sight of you sleeping peacefully on the bed. The thin sheet barely covered your form, revealing the beautiful marks scattered across your skin, a testament to your night of passion.

How did he get so lucky?

Almost three years had passed since you entered his life unexpectedly on a Tuesday afternoon. He had stopped at a nearby bakery to grab a quick lunch, exhausted and stressed from his day. In his haste, he wasn't paying attention and didn't notice you as he turned around, colliding with you.

He sighed and bent down to begin picking up his dropped items. He could hear your apologies, but when he looked up at you to tell you to stop apologizing, his whole world shifted in that moment like the air had been forced out of his lungs. You were the most stunning woman he had ever laid his eyes on.

He fell for you, hard.

He was a prominent figure in a notorious crime organization, and you were an ordinary individual who lived a quiet life. But he selfishly pursued you despite the dangers to you.

He went to great lengths to conceal his true profession and maintain distance between you and his more illicit dealings in the organization to keep you safe. But you were observant, and he had to come clean about everything to you. To his surprise, you stayed by his side, though you clearly disapproved of his work.

You sense Kento's eyes on you as you stir from your sleep. "Quit being so creepy," you mutter in your exhausted state.

Kento chuckled at your usual morning attitude. "Can't a man admire his beautiful girlfriend?"

You playfully smacked his arm, to which Kento only chuckled, "That hurt."

You rolled your eyes at his antics. "Oh please."

Kento embraced you, holding your body close to his. He nestled his face into the curve of your neck. "I love you," he murmured.

"I love you too," you whispered before a comfortable silence fell between you. The only sounds were the crashing waves and the chirping birds outside the open windows. Time seemed to stand still as you lay there, basking in each other's presence. But eventually, reality set in. "I have to leave for work soon."

"Don't go," he begged. "Quit. Be with me."

You sat up and lightly kissed Kento on the cheek before getting up to make your way towards the bathroom. "You know I can't."

Kento's heart ached as he recalled the last morning he spent with you. If he had known what would happen, he would have kept you in bed that morning. Instead, he was blinded by his happiness, oblivious to the dangers lingering in the background. As tears threatened to spill from his eyes, he couldn't help but replay the painful memories of that fateful day over and over again in his mind.

Gone.

The word echoed mercilessly in his mind, a cruel mantra of agony and disbelief.

The doctor's condolences were empty words, futile attempts to soothe the wildfire of emotions raging through Kento that day. He felt it all - raw, unbridled rage burning in his veins, gut-wrenching grief clawing at his heart, a sense of betrayal that threatened to consume him whole.

In an instant, his entire future shattered into a million pieces. The dreams of leaving the mafia behind and building a new life with you are all gone. It was too late. You were taken from him, a victim of his world.

Your blood would forever be on his hands, a constant reminder of his love's tragic end.

[baronessvonglitter]

if love be rough with you, be rough with love | chapter 16 | "all i want for christmas is you"

Dave York x f!Reader

Word count: 5,473

Summary: Years later, you run into Dave on Christmas Eve.

(Spoilers are in the Warnings under the cut so please peek responsibly)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, Time Skip, TW for physical altercation (pushing, choking, pinning down), alcohol consumption, talk of weapons, hinting at reader being killed, mention of chemical paralytics (NMBA's), surprise pregnancy (happened after Chapter 15) and revelation of paternity, mention of wetwork, reader has C-section scar, wears a dress and nail polish, masturbation, pussy pronouns, p in v sex, quickest enemies to lovers ever, and one Christmas Eve marriage proposal (if I've forgotten anything please do let me know)

Author's note: I defrosted Mariah Carey earlier than anyone would like her to be, and yes I was listening to this song as I wrote. I don't care. It's one of my favorite Christmas songs ever and nobody can convince me otherwise 😜

Series Masterlist

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

Six Years Later

You step out of your car into the cold St. Louis night. It's Christmas Eve, and the streets are lined with snow. Brightly lit storefronts boast presents of all kinds, the electric glow of the holiday season luring in last minute customers. You keep your hands in your coat pocket as you walk, eyes scanning the perimeter.

Pour Decisions, the bar you've owned for the past couple years, is filled with its usual patrons, the atmosphere friendly and charged with holiday cheer. Checking to see that the staff is doing well and everything is in order, you ask for an old-fashioned, enjoying the warmth that spreads through you as you sip the whiskey cocktail, sitting at an inconspicuous table in the back and looking around at the one thing you can really call your own, the only place that doesn't hold bad memories.

That's when you see him enter your establishment. The man who claimed to have loved you with all his heart. The man whose life you destroyed. The man without whom you wouldn't be where you are right now.

Walking to the bar and sitting by himself, drinking to take away the pain, is Dave York.

It feels like all your breath leaves your body yet you give an audible gasp. He doesn't see you, doesn't even appear to be looking for you.

In your darkest nightmares he returns for you and kills you. You carry that fear with you. You've been preparing for it since the day your plane left for London years ago.

Emergency exit to my right you think to yourself, a habit you've formed in the six years since ruining his life. Glock, switchblade, syringe, you do a mental checklist of what you have on you.

You don't know whether to stay or leave. You're rooted to the spot, keeping an eye on him, poised to take whatever action necessary.

The jukebox finishes "Baby, It's Cold Outside" and moves onto "All I Want for Christmas is You" by Mariah Carey. You cringe at the sudden mood dissonance. This song would've expressed your feelings for him, once upon a very long time ago, but now it's almost comical. You want each other in a different way now: gone, even if it means dead.

Dave sighs and takes another sip of his drink, clearly lost in his own thoughts. He looks at the other people around him, some smiling and drinking to make the pain of Christmas a little more bearable, others in town for friends or family, eagerness evident on their faces.

He'd give anything just to be in their place right now. To be happy. To be able to smile like he used to smile. And it was all taken away from him by you.

Suddenly he hears someone calling out your name over the music.

In fact, he's been waiting for it. His head jerks up to see where you are, but he can't find you. His eyes scan the bar from face to face.. until finally he sees you. You're sunk low in your chair but he knows you immediately. He knows those eyes that have haunted him for years.

You're nodding and talking to your friend, and the moment you nervously glance around you meet Dave's gaze. It feels like pinpricks all over your body.

For one moment the world stops. All of the moments of his time with you come rushing back as he looks at you. All of the joy he felt with you, all of the pain you caused him. For a moment he allows himself the memory of your pliant body beneath his, your soft, slender throat beneath his grip, thumbs pressing just hard enough on your windpipe to make you cum.

What a waste, he thinks, keeping his cold gaze on you.

You talk to your friend a little longer then finish your drink, order another, and down it.

Now you have liquid courage to face him.

You approach him but it feels like you're moving underwater, your limbs fighting the current.

And there he is. There you are. After six years apart. He hasn't changed much in all this time. He's still handsome. A few gray hairs here and there, and a slight scruff of facial hair when he'd always stayed clean shaven. Still wearing a suit like he's just left the office, the subtle scent of his cologne wafts to you. It suits him. But you force the thought away. You take stock of your own looks: burgundy sweater dress, black boots, hair styled differently from how you used to, perhaps in the hopes that disguising yourself would throw him off your scent, confuse him and leaving him chasing his tail.

"Fifty thousand dollars," you tell him. "I'll give you fifty thousand dollars to leave."

He says nothing, just staring at you as he hears the offer.

Fifty thousand. That's all it would cost for him to let you go. Fifty thousand dollars to spare your life.

But..

..is that what he wants, really?

"No," he says firmly. "You can't make it up to me with fifty thousand dollars."

Your heart sinks to your stomach. "Then name your price. Whatever it is I'll pay it."

Dave takes a long sip of his drink as he considers your offer. For a moment he's tempted to accept it, to end this nightmare once and for all. But..

..no. It's not a question of money.

"The price is a hell of a lot higher than that," he says with cold finality. "You destroyed my family and you left me without my soul."

In your time on your own you've learned to be assertive. You're no longer the shy, simpering girl he used to know. "You did that to yourself, Dave. I only held up a mirror to show what you really are. Besides," you give him a devious smile, your words dripping with venom, "we both know you have no soul."

"Maybe I don't," he meets your gaze with unwavering ire. "But neither do you.. you destroyed everything good and beautiful that we had."

He takes another long sip, savoring the taste and savoring this moment where he's dissecting you. "You can try to blame me. You can try to make yourself the victim of this story. But you're not the victim. You're the monster. You're the one who brought darkness into my life when I didn't deserve it. When I gave you nothing but my love and my faith.. you used them to destroy everything I held dear."

"I disagree." You hop onto the barstool next to him, unafraid of him. "The real victims are my father, who you killed, and your wife and kids, who you betrayed. We both lost our families, Dave. I evened the score."

His eyes bore a hole into your soul as you speak. "That's the thing you can't seem to understand, sweetpea. Life isn't a zero-sum game. One person's loss is not another person's gain. You didn't 'even the score' by getting your revenge."

His voice turns cold and harsh as he speaks the truth. "You made a choice to try to destroy me. That's something I can never understand. And you'll never be forgiven for."

"I'm not interested in your forgiveness, David," you correct him. "You're the one in my city, in my bar, looking for me. With you, there's always an ulterior motive. Out with it."

And then he smiles at you. It's a cold, hard smile. "I came here to see you. So we can end this."

You stare into his eyes and wear a sardonic smile. "You mean, so you can end me."

"Yes," he answers simply.

You consider getting another drink, but two old-fashioneds on an empty stomach has you feeling good already. Maybe that's why you're not afraid.

"My late husband owned this bar, and now it's mine," you say, looking around with pride and wistfulness. "I met him here, years ago."

"Husband," he repeats in a dull tone. "Did you ruin his life too?" he asks.

"Well, he is dead," is your deadpan reply and you hate that your heart misses a beat when Dave smirks in reply. "It would be bad for business if you were to kill me in my own establishment, at peak holiday season," you remind him, proud of your practical tone of voice.

"You may be right about that," Dave admits. "The customers would scramble out of their seats, trample each other to get to the exits. In this day and age you know I'll be caught on camera. And that's not good for my.. 'business'.. either. But," he adds with a grin, "that doesn't mean you're safe."

"I've been looking over my shoulder ever since I came back to the states. I was surprised you didn't follow me to London. In the meantime I've just been waiting for the day when you would come and exact your revenge."

"That's exactly what I've come to do," he says coldly. "I made a promise a long time ago that I would never forgive you."

He takes a long drink and looks at you as if he's seeing you for the first time. "And now, the time has come."

You can see it in his eyes. You can see the darkness that now resides there, different from the one that used to excite you. It's Dave, but it's not the Dave you used to know.

A chill goes through you. You nod, knowing this day is long overdue. If your father faced death at the hands of Dave York, so can you.

You put down your glass, the whiskey still on your lips. "I'm glad it's you. Poetic that way." You stand up from your seat, surprised that your knees don't buckle automatically. "Outside," you tell him.

In the darkness of the alley behind the bar, your coat offers no protection from the cold you feel in your heart. The back street is empty. You look up at the stars in the night sky, feeling small in their midst.

This is it.. the end of it all.

He looks at you and sees the same calmness that he saw in your father. He sees that you've accepted your fate without fear, and he can't help but admire that.

"You know.. I thought about it a lot as I came here," he says. "What I wanted to do to you when I found you.. and what I wanted you to feel in your last moments."

You languidly turn to him, as if in a dream. "So tell me."

"I wanted to make you suffer. I wanted to see you beg for mercy, to see you plead for your life." His smile is cold and cruel. "But you're not scared, are you, sweetpea? Either you're as tough as I believe, or your self-preservation instincts are for shit," he sneers. "Even now, you're calm.."

Your placid countenance belies your shivering heart as you stand against the wall, deep breath in, deep breath out. "How are you going to do it?"

"You really want to know? You trust me that much?"

"You're the best, right? I'm glad it's you." You smile a little, shaking your head. "I loved you from the first time I saw you, Dave. I've loved you all this time. I love you right now."

He almost laughs. It's comical to hear you talk about love at a moment like this. "And I've hated you for all these years. I hate you for what you did to my family. I hate you with every fiber of my being.."

His voice turns to a whisper. "And I hate you because I still love you."

A brief smile flickers in your eyes. "As you once told me.. 'If this is love, we're both fucked.'"

Dave seems reluctant now, as if he's had a change of heart. You love each other, despite everything, and even now you're willing to let him just take your life, snuff it out with a single blow.

"Don't disappoint me, York," your voice pierces his thoughts like an icy blast. "Don't tell me you've come all this way for nothing. Not when I've been getting ready for you."

In an instant he pins you to the wall, his weight pressing you into the bricks as his hands wrap around your throat. Your breath comes in labored gasps as you fight to free your arms and legs. Despite your efforts, Dave is physically stronger. He's methodical, using his strength to subdue you rather than overpowering you with brute force. You can feel the desperation rising, your struggle becoming more frantic as you wrack your brain for any possible means of escape.

In a moment of clarity amidst the chaos, you find a small sharp object in your purse - the syringe. With a burst of adrenaline you jab it into the soft area right below his ribs, keeping your thumb off the plunger.

He lets out a sharp grunt and loosens his grip, staring dumbfounded at the needle sticking out of him, your finger hovering over the end, ready to press the danger into his bloodstream. "Let me guess," he says, his breath warm against your face. "Propofol? Rocuronium bromide?"

"Air," you answer with a winning smile, your voice hoarse from his choking you.

He swallows thickly, face pale even in the wintry moonlight.

You've never felt a surge of power like the one shooting through your veins right now. "I'd say my instinct for self-preservation is pretty fucking good."

Right as you see that angry spark in his eye you take advantage of the temporary adrenaline rush and push him away from you. Dave stumbles back, pulling the syringe from his torso and tossing it away right before you crash into him again. You both topple onto the cold wet pavement, grappling with one another, and it doesn't escape your realization that it's all an inverted display of the way you couldn't keep your hands off each other years ago.

You're unaware that the contents of your purse have fallen out in the scuffle, until Dave pins you down and notices the knife, the gun, neither of which you bothered to use on him just moments before. Then the bright light of your phone screen illuminates its presence in the shadowy alleyway.

Your wallpaper is a picture of you, holding a small boy who's smiling as you're kissing his cheek.

Still beneath him, your stomach lurches and you scramble for phone. "Give that back!" But Dave doesn't listen.

"You have a child?" he asks, completely bewildered that he hadn't thought of you having a life apart from the history you have with him. You'd mentioned a husband, but not a child.

The photo is lovely, taken recently as he guesses from the similar hairstyle as you have now. He's a beautiful child, with his mother's eyes. The love between mother and son is palpable, something pure and sweet that he has only experienced with his own children. It takes the wind out of him. He looks at you and all of the anger, all of the hate and rage he felt towards you seems to dissolve like salt in water.

Your heart is near palpitating as you take the phone from him, gently wiping the falling snow from the screen, taking a tiny moment to admire the photo for yourself. "The last night we spent together in that little motel room.. before everything happened.. a couple months later I found out I was pregnant."

It takes every ounce of courage you have to confess this to him: "This is Benjamin.. your son.."

Dave is paralyzed by your revelation, utterly unable to move or even breathe as he stares at the photo, puts the pieces together. He sees his features in his son, the perfect combination of you and him in another being, a little boy who is the culmination of your love.

He sees you as he never saw you before. You're not the woman who betrayed him and destroyed his family. You're the woman who gave him a son, a part of himself that he never knew would exist.

"He's beautiful," he murmurs, drinking in this moment, helping you to your feet as you struggle to stand, asking if you're all right but you don't answer him.

You've never envisioned how this would go. Not even your late husband knew Ben's real paternity, just that you needed stability to raise him. A part of you is on edge. You've just revealed the person who means the most to you in this world, and in one moment Dave could take it away.

"He just turned five in September," you tell him, "That night.. that terrible and wonderful night before I left you.. something good came from all of it," you tell him.

He nods. "I guess it did." He looks at the picture once more. "Where is he?"

You take a moment before answering. "He's at home. A friend of mine is watching him."

"I want to see him."

"You already have kids, Dave. Or have you forgotten them?"

"Don't go," he pleads as you start to walk away. Around the corner you can hear the holiday music blaring from the bar. "Last Christmas" by Wham!

"I want to see him," he says, catching up with you. "Please."

Being a mom has made you soft. And the truth is you spent the majority of your energy in your short scuffle with him moments ago. "Follow me home."

"Leave whatever weapons you have in the mailbox."

You wait on him, arms crossed, ensuring your safety before you let him beyond your threshold. Dave puts his semi-automatic pistol and a knife. He had these on him all the time but didn't use them..

"Now you," he says, watching as you put your own gun and knife into the mailbox. One corner of your mouth lifts up into a half-smile as your eyes meet, realizing you've both thought alike.

Inside your home it's cozy. A brightly lit Christmas tree glows with warm golden light in front of the main window in the living room. Dave looks around, taking it all in: the decorations placed with love and care, the presents piled under the tree for Ben - his son - to open the next morning.

A woman, clad in a soft gray sweater and jeans, comes out from the hallway, carrying little Ben in her arms. "He couldn't sleep without you here," she tells you, her glance jumping quickly between you and Dave.

You take him from her, letting her know you're home for the night and giving a quick introduction to Dave. "This is Paige, she helps me with Ben from time to time."

They exchange hellos, a little awkward under the circumstances. You take Ben in your arms, and he immediately wraps his arms around you. You wish Paige a happy Christmas and she leaves.

Now it's just the three of you. "Can I hold him?" Dave asks.

You hesitate before nodding, asking Ben if he's okay to go with him. Watching him with his father you can see the resemblance, plain as day. "Is he what you looked like as a kid?" You ask curiously.

"I think so," he smiles, still amazed that he's holding his child, a piece of him that he left behind with you for so long, your love made real.

Ben is bathed and put to bed. Dave knows everything about him by now: his birthday, favorite foods, his friends in his kindergarten class, the names of his stuffed animals and favorite superheroes. All this Dave takes in with the same interest he had when his daughters were younger.

He even reads him a bedtime story while you watch from the doorway, watching a scene you never imagined would come to life. Ben has Dave's smile, his hair. It's uncanny. You remember when you first started working for the Yorks, the first night you walked in on him reading to the girls before bed. That was the moment you fell in love with him.

It might be happening all over again.

After he's asleep you sit in the living room, sipping coffee spiked with brandy.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" he asks.

You sip your drink, letting it warm the chill that's going through you, hoping it'll dull the overpowering emotions coursing in your veins. "I was afraid you'd come after me, kill me, and take him away."

"Is that what you think of me? That I'd kill you for our son?" For a moment he actually looks hurt.

"I don't know what to think of you."

"I deserve to be in his life," he says stubbornly, and you get a peek of the old Dave from before. "We can put the past behind us. We can get reacquainted. We can be what we should have been all along. He belongs to both of us. And I want to be here for him." He pauses, seeing the photos on the table and walls: you and Ben throughout his young life: on a beach somewhere with pure white sand, at a zoo posing in front of the zebras, and in every picture it's obvious he's loved.

"You did a good job with him, sweetpea. Our son is happy."

"He was my reason for going on," you tell him. "I was still in London when I found out I was pregnant. At first I thought it was the worst possible thing that could happen, but when I really sat down to make a decision I realized there was no other option but to keep him and love him. I knew a miracle could be reaped from the awfulness we sowed."

You raised him alone, mostly, with some help from your mother, who of course asked who Ben's father was. There was absolutely no way you could tell her, so you simply said it was a boyfriend who'd wanted nothing to do with the baby. After getting your Master's you found yourself here in St. Louis, met Liam who cared for you and your child, and lost him to sudden illness only a year after you married him. And every day you did not stop thinking about Dave.

"I assume you're still involved in your.. activities?" you ask him.

He takes a deep breath, mentally going over the jobs he'd done in the past six years, of which he'd taken more than before you'd left. Not only had he needed the money, but he needed something else to keep from thinking about you.

"Yes, I am," he replies. "I know you were hoping for a different answer than that."

"I was hoping for a different answer, but I wasn't expecting one," you tell him. "And the situation with Carol and the girls.. did she leave you? Did you work things out?" You hate that this is the answer you dread the most.

"We're divorced now," he says curtly. "And the girls.." an actual smile melts away his bitterness. "The girls are great. They're teenagers now. We've worked out a custody arrangement and we're keeping things civil for their sake. They adapted better than I thought they would."

"Do they all hate me for what I did? For my part in the affair?"

He pauses. "It's complicated.. the girls know why you left. I haven't given them any details and I doubt Carol has told them anything they shouldn't know. But you shouldn't blame yourself. It takes two to tango. I'm just as guilty."

You've finished your coffee, and just as you start to rise from your chair you pause, giving him a smirk. "Dave.. calling yourself 'guilty' after everything you've done is probably the funniest thing I've ever heard."

He takes your hand as you try to walk past him. "What would you say if I said we should be together for Benjamin's sake?"

You should have seen this coming, should have known he'd attempt to ingratiate himself into your good graces to keep some control over your life. "I've already done that. I married my late husband so that Benjamin could have a father.. I'm not going to go into any more relationships under false pretenses."

There's something more he wants to say, something that he wants to get across to you. "A lot of my life is gone. Lost. Because of what you did."

"I know. And I can say the same about you. We took each other's lives away."

"But you," Dave continues, "you gave me this. All of the happiness you took away, you gave it back to me in a way I never would have dreamed." He takes your hand in his. "And what if this isn't false pretenses? What if I'm asking because I know.. because we know, you and I are meant for each other?"

He knows he's getting ahead of himself. He's letting his emotions and his desire take over.

But you shake your head. "You only want me because I'm the one left standing in the ashes."

"You're partly right," he agrees. "I want you because you're right in front of me now. That's just natural, I'd say. But I always wanted you, sweetpea," he says with total honesty. "You were always the woman I loved."

"Fucked up people always love other fucked up people," you remind him. "And you and I are the most fucked up people I know,. Weren't we just about to kill each other in an alley?"

"Maybe you would have killed me.. but you didn't. And I could have killed you.."

"I get it, I get it," you playfully roll your eyes. "Am I your first failed mission?"

"Yeah, but.. definitely worth it."

He manages to get a smile out of you, and as he pulls you close he rejoices that you don't pull away. When he brings his lips to yours for a kiss, you don't stop him. You come together as fluidly as if you'd never been apart all this time, and you kiss him back hungrily, having missed his taste.

In the bedroom your appetite only grows stronger as you unbutton Dave's shirt, running your hands over the warmth of his chest. He lifts your dress over your head and you continue to unwrap each other. Your eyes take in every inch of his frame, seeing that he hasn't changed much in six years. His side job keeps him fit and he's kept his little belly that you've always found so attractive.

He reaches for you, takes your curves under his touch and gently kneading your soft flesh. "I missed you so much.." he whispers as you gasp with pleasure. "Missed what's mine." As his hands trace your skin he discovers the small scar on your lower abdomen, nearly hidden by the softness of your own little belly.

"What's this?" he asks, noticing that his touch doesn't seem to register there.

"It was Ben," you explain. "I had to have an emergency C-section."

His fingers trace over the scar, imagining the pain you must have gone through, the fear you must have felt. "I should have been there with you."

"I'm not made of glass, Dave." Breaking from him you lay back on the bed, legs parted as you begin to touch yourself, lifting your eyes to meet his dark gaze as your fingers continue their pleasured work across your delicate folds.

"Open wider," he says in a low command, crawling over you on the bed, watching intently. "Make yourself come."

He follows each dip and swirl of your fingers, the tips painted in red glitter lacquer, as they brush across your clit, disappearing into your already drenched cunt.

"How does that feel, sweetpea?" he asks, his voice husky with lust.

"Good," you moan. "But not nearly as good as you." You reach for him, and though he wants desperately to dive into your sopping wet hole, he practices control.

"Not yet," he says gently, chiding you. "I said, make yourself come."

He watches as you add pressure to your clit, your pussy swallowing up your middle and ring fingers while your other hand palms your breast, twists and pulls your nipple. He's never seen you more gorgeous, chasing your pleasure. The scent of your sex is in the air, beckoning him, and it takes every shred of his self-discipline to keep where he is, cock in his hand, lazily stroking as his dark eyes dance with the vision of you spread out before him, coming at last.

He takes his time about getting inside you, and though you're slippery enough to handle him it's still a tight fit after years apart. He's careful until you ask him not to be, and then he fucks you with smooth, steady thrusts, bottoming out as you arch your back, crying out his name, the sound of your flesh slapping together a perfect symphony with your moaning and his praise in your ear my good girl, missed this pussy so much, needed her all this time, and she needed me, gonna tame her, make her mine all over again.

He moves with you, as if he's connected to every beat of your heart. This is the only thing in the world that feels right, no matter how wrong it is. You can't not love him, You've never felt more like yourself, realizing that he brings it out of you. The air between you becomes electric, frantic, your movements desperate and wild.

"Come for me, sweetpea," he whispers, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. "Let me feel this tight little hole get her fill of me."

It's a fucking relief when you finally come, the moment prolonged as he continues to move, stimulating your clit beyond your point, only letting up when you forcefully shove his hand away. Watching you come is a miracle made true, something he never thought he'd get to experience again, and he comes with the final clench around him, keeping him there, keeping him home.

You're both vulnerable, perhaps for the first time, with each other. There are no more secrets to be had, no more devastation to wreak. Just you and him, and an ocean of possibilities before you.

"Can you forgive me?" he asks, meeting your eyes. "For what I did?"

It's weighed heavy on your mind since the day you learned the truth, and you've come to realize that all the tragedy did was allow you to move on, even if it brought you to have to face your past more clearly.

"Yes," you answer. "I do forgive you. And now you have to forgive me."

It's easier to do that now, now that the walls you both built up have been knocked down. "I forgive you," he echoes. "We'll never bring it up again."

There's a clarity you never imagined you'd receive, a gift that's long overdue after the years of being in limbo. You snuggle to him, pressing a kiss his throat.

"I thought about you every day, sweetpea," he whispers. "And maybe I'm crazy, but.. marry me."

You're at a loss for words. You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. "What.. what did you say?" you ask slowly, usure if you even heard him right. "Did you ask me to marry you?"

"I did," he says assertively. "So? Will you marry me?" A little smirk crosses his lips and there's a light in his eyes that you've never seen before.

"I'm just so.. stunned," you sit up against the headboard and he does the same. "Why would you even want to marry me? Don't you remember everything that happened?"

"I remember everything. I remember it every day. But like you said, 'fucked up people always love other fucked up people' and look at us: still crazy about each other even after we've ruined each other's lives. There's nothing for us except to be together."

"You sound so certain," you look at him with a conflicted smile. "Are you really sure this is what you want? To wake up every day and remember what happened and who we are?"

His smile lights up his whole face. "I'm counting on us to remember who and what we are. If we forget everything that happened between us then we've learned nothing. But now we're standing in the ashes of our old lives and look at us: we won. If anything, that just proves we're supposed to be together. We know all the bad parts of each other and we still choose to be here."

Watching him, and listening, you become convinced. You can't ignore the truth of what he's saying. "I'm gonna marry you, Dave," you tell him, your voice full of love and joy.

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taglist: @untamedheart81 @guelyury @auteurdelabre @darkheartgatita

[sxcret-garden]

Yeosang ღ Longing [M]

ღ Ateez Yeosang x fem-bodied!reader ღ feat.: Yunho, Wooyoung ღ words: ~2.8k ღ genre: fluff, soft smut (fingering, unprotected sex), mutual pining, friends to lovers, college AU ღ warnings: (mentions of him picking up reader) ღ prompts: “I want to look at your face.” + “Say that you want me.”

Desc.: You and your friend Yeosang have been secretly in love with each other for months, and somehow you never found a chance to talk about it. Eventually he came to the conclusion that you must be in love with another one of your friends, and so the jealousy threatens to consume him every time you’re together.

“Hey, give that back!” you yell, reaching out for the pen Wooyoung just took from you. It’s a pretty color of blue and with a fluffy pom pom on its end - your favourite pen, and apparently he likes it too. It’s not like you never noticed the envious looks he always gives you when you’re using it, but you wouldn’t have thought he’d be so bold as to steal it from you one day.

“Make me!” he shouts back, a broad grin on his face. You glare at him and stretch your arm out further, but it’s futile. You can’t reach the pen he’s holding away from you as far as possible, no matter what. The two guys sitting opposite you have been just watching across the table at the study café you often come to up until now, however, suddenly Yunho reaches out and snatches the pen away from your friend, holding it out to you.

“Quit making such a ruckus, guys,” he scolds you, speaking in a warm tone. “People are gonna look at us and start wondering what kind of kindergarten we’re from…”

“We’re college students!” Wooyoung complains loudly.

“Then act like it.” Yeosang’s sharp words cut him off. You don’t miss the cold gaze he shoots the noisy guy next to you, before turning back to his own notes, trying to study. Awkwardness makes the air around the four of you feel heavy, and you know you’re the only one who could cheer him up in this situation.

“Yeosang,” you call out to him, and you see his facade waver for a moment. “We were just fooling around. Sorry for being so loud… we should all try to study now.” You give him a sincere look and wait for him to return it. Finally, he looks at you, unsure what to do now. You don’t miss the slight blush covering the tips of his ears as your eyes meet, and he eventually nods.

“I shouldn’t be so irritated… what’s wrong with me?” He bumps the palm of his hand against his temple, faking a smile in hopes of making the tension around you disappear.

“I’m sorry too,” Wooyoung chimes in and then faces you. “I’ll leave you alone… for today!” He gives you a childish grin and you can’t help but chuckle at him, feeling Yeosang’s piercing glare going right past you, as if he wanted to chase Wooyoung away with it. As soon as the latter notices the hostile gaze, Yeosang turns back to his book and clears his throat.

“So, problem number 4? Did anybody understand this?” he asks as if nothing had happened.

“An older friend explained this to me,” Yunho starts talking and leans over to the smaller guy, circling something in his book using a pencil. “You have to start using this formula here…” While the two are busy, soon sunken into thought, you and Wooyoung exchange a worried look. You know what he’s trying to tell you with his apologetic shrug, and you try to convey to him that it’ll be alright.

You know Yeosang has been in love with you for who knows how long now. He’s usually fine seeing you around other guys, but somehow whenever Wooyoung is there, jealousy takes the better of him. Maybe it’s because you get along so well, or because he would like to fool around with you like Wooyoung does. Either way, deep inside you know there’s no need for him to feel like this. After all you too have feelings for the guy - you just don’t know how to tell him yet.

Evening comes round eventually, and after grabbing a bite to eat at the café, you part ways. First Wooyoung says goodnight, turning towards the direction of his own home nearby, while the other three of you approach the train station across the street. Yunho walks in the middle, yet the air around you has turned awkward again. Apparently Yeosang doesn’t want to make it worse, so he just stays silent, and the taller guy doesn’t really know what to say anymore either, after a failed attempt to create a conversation. You get the feeling it’s all on you now.

“So… tomorrow same time as always?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“Sounds good,” Yunho agrees and you glance over at a still sulking Yeosang, who tries to hide his feelings as soon as he realizes you’re looking at him.

“Yeah, same time as always.” He gives you a nod and a tired smile. You hate seeing him like this, knowing you could ease his mind with just three simple words. Should I just tell him…? you ponder. Should I confess and that’s it?

You board the train and eventually you all get off at your station. You part ways with Yunho, so now it’s just the two of you walking in the dark of the night side by side. Not talking much for a few minutes, you come to a halt at the crossroads where you usually say your goodbyes, except today you feel like you can’t leave Yeosang just yet.

“Can I… come with you?” you gather your courage and ask. Surprise is written all over your friend’s face now, and it takes him a few seconds to process the question.

“Yes. Sure,” he agrees. You see a smile forming on his lips. It’s the first time today that you see him smile honestly. Walking side by side, you follow him to his humble flat on the fourth floor of a huge building. You’ve been here before. It’s a small apartment, but it has enough space for a busy student - there’s a tiny kitchen island next to a small table, it has a decent bathroom and a comfortable bedroom. 

“Do you want to eat something? Drink something?” Yeosang asks as soon as you have both slipped out of your shoes and put your bags aside.

“Just tea?”

“Sure. What kind do you want? I have green tea, herbal tea…” he introduces a whole collection of assorted teas to you, overwhelming you a bit with information, so in the end you just stick to regular green tea. You sit at the table as you watch him boil water for two big cups, preparing the beverage for the both of you. He puts it on the table and sits down opposite you. For a while you just sit there in awkward silence, both sipping your tea and looking around the room, as if searching for something, when really the only thing you’re looking for is a sign to start talking. That sign never comes though, instead Yeosang clears his throat.

“I’m… sorry, Y/N,” he says hesitantly, and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Why…?”

“Because I keep acting like a child.” He looks down now, his eyes finding his hands that are placed in front of him on the table. You find the birthmark next to his eye, one of the many little things you keep falling in love with about him. As if gaining courage from the sight, you reach out to cover his hands with yours.

“Yeosang, I need to tell you something,” you blurt out without thinking, and your heart starts beating faster as you make eye contact. As if he thought he could tell what you’re about to say, he shakes his head and gets up, withdrawing his hands from your hold.

“Don’t,” he answers, keeping his voice low. “You don’t have to say it.”

“What…?” You slowly rise up from your seat as well, now sensing the sadness hiding behind his stance very clearly. “You have the wrong idea!” you protest, but he doesn’t listen.

“I know you like Wooyoung,” Yeosang utters. “It’s okay. I got it. I’ll stop.” You stare at him for a few seconds as his own gaze is fixated on the corner of the room. A lot of things you would’ve liked to say to him cross your mind in that moment, but you know that none of them would have enough of an impact on him. You know that none of them would make him listen. So instead you approach him with secure steps, you reach out and grab him by the collar, and then you pull him towards you, smashing your lips together. You remain like this, kissing, trying to convey to him all the feelings that you haven’t had the courage to say out loud up until now. You wonder why suddenly you feel like you can say them, but instead of getting caught up in your thoughts, you keep moving your lips against his. Eventually you part, and still out of breath, you speak very quietly.

“Say that you want me. Say it and I’ll be yours.” He looks at you with big eyes and slightly parted lips, speechless for a while.

“But-,” he stutters in an attempt to put the turmoil of feelings in his chest into words, “but I thought-. What about Wooyoung?” 

“He’s a friend, Yeosang,” you state calmly, with a warm smile on your lips. “Always has been and always will be.”

“Then… you… like me too?” His voice turns into but a whisper, and you press another kiss onto his lips.

“What do you think?” you respond with a question, your breaths mixing as you pull back for a bit. Yeosang doesn’t answer, instead he leans in to continue kissing you, while he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close. You too throw your arms around him, holding onto his shoulders tightly, and as if that was his cue, his hands travel to behind your thighs, picking you up. Feeling secure in his hold, your lips part and you make eye contact with him.

“Wanna take this… somewhere more comfortable then?” he asks and you find all the suppressed emotions and his longing for you surfacing in his dark pupils. You nod. You wonder for a moment if you’re going too fast - but then again, shouldn’t it be fine to run into this blindly, led by nothing but your feelings for each other that stayed hidden for so long? After all you two have been waiting for a moment like this for what feels like an eternity now.

You let him carry you to his bedroom, where he carefully sets you down at the edge of his bed, before supporting himself with his arms to your sides, and you pull him in for another long kiss, deepening it as if it was the last time you could connect your lips with his, that seemed to fit together so perfectly. You let your body fall backwards onto the soft blanket, Yeosang crawling on top of you in the dark room, illuminated only by the faint light of a street lamp outside his window. His lips eventually leave yours, traveling down your jaw and your neck, as if he wanted to worship every single part of you. He pulls your shirt over your head and tosses it aside, continuing his ministrations traveling further south, leaving soft kisses all over your collarbones and chest. Sighs escape your mouth as you feel yourself relax under his touch. 

“I’ve been waiting for this so long…” you whisper into the darkness, combing your fingers through his hair. You let out a small whimper when you feel his teeth grazing your skin right below your chest. He crawls back up to place another kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“I thought this day would never come,” he admits and you smile at him, unable to make out his facial expressions clearly due to the darkness.

“Let’s turn on the light,” you suggest, running your fingers through his hair once more. “I want to look at your face.”

“Oh… sure,” Yeosang suddenly hesitates and you can’t but chuckle at his reaction.

“What? Are you getting shy now?” you ask, watching him sit up and turning on the light beside his bed. You place your hands just above his waistband, slipping them under his shirt and letting them travel up his abdomen, feeling his muscles tense up under your small touches. Yeosang leans down to give you a proper kiss, and once you part you slip his shirt off his body, exposing his toned shape. Seemingly having forgotten all about his momentary embarrassment, he buries his face in your neck to place little kisses there, nibbling on your skin in between. You wrap your arms around him, placing your hands on his shoulders to keep him from slipping away from you again. Taking in the faint smell of his cologne that’s still sticking to him even after such a long day, you close your eyes, about to get lost in the moment. You wonder for a short while if this was the right moment to confess, to tell him that you love him, but that thought too gets lost once you feel him reconnect your lips in a soft but passionate kiss. You place one of your hands on his chest, letting it travel down his torso slowly, before it reaches the waistband of his pants. Tugging at it, you lead him to break the kiss and instead make eye contact with you. He shoots you a questioning gaze, as if attempting to ask if you really want this, and you give him one short but convincing nod. He slips out of his jeans, and so do you, and eventually both your underwear comes off too in between sloppy, needy kisses and fingertips tracing the other’s bodylines. Still hovering over you, his hand finds your core, and the pleasure that shoots into every cell of your body like electric waves once he comes in contact with where you want him most makes you moan underneath him. Your hands search for something to hold onto as he keeps going, pushing a finger inside you, and you eventually grab his bedsheets, clasping them in your fists. You find his hungry eyes watching every single one of your reactions to his touches, like how you turn your head away and close your eyes when he slips inside another finger, or how you moan his name when his lips come in contact with your skin again, leaving kisses everywhere he can reach. And then eventually you both hit the limits of your patience, and you give him a pleading look.

“Yeosang… please. I need you…” you beg, and as if that flipped a switch inside of him he leans in for another longing kiss while he removes his hand from your core, only for him to push inside you as soon as your lips part, now rolling his hips against yours. The feeling of him filling you up makes you suck in a breath, and your chest rises up. You let go of his bedsheets and instead find his muscular shoulders to hold onto. You throw your head back at his next thrust, and he reconnects his lips to your neck. Hearing his breathing growing heavier in between kisses, the waves of pleasure keep adding up, as if wanting to overwhelm you.

“Y/N, I love you,” you hear him mutter into your ear, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You want to say it back, but you’re rendered unable to speak as he picks up on speed, finally finding that sweet spot deep inside you. In between moans and whimpers you see your high approaching, and with a moan of his name it crashes down on you, making you cum around him while clinging onto his shoulders. He lets you come down from your high, and it takes him but a few more thrusts to come undone on top of you as well. 

He rolls onto his back, putting his arms around you to allow you to put your head on his chest, snuggling up to him closely. You say nothing for a while, just listening to the sounds of your breathing filling up the room and each other’s heartbeat in your ears. Then you eventually lift your head to look up at his face, finding that he’s already been watching you while holding you close to him. You lean down to kiss him softly and slowly, lips merging together perfectly.

“I wanted to tell you something as well,” you remind him. “Are you gonna let me talk now?” He nods, never taking his eyes off your mouth as you speak. “I love you too,” you confess with a smile. Yeosang brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, before placing his hand at the back of your neck and pulling you towards him for another kiss.

“Wanna stay with me tonight?” he whispers close to your face, so you can feel his warm breath on your cheeks. You nod. With a chuckle, you answer,

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[ayoogirlie]

"Stars" Lilia Vanrouge x GN!Reader

content: random thoughts, fluff to angst, general lilia fell in love with a human

note: it's my first work so I'm not confident with it, also I don't like the ending, could've done it better

word count: 485

not proof-read

Stars. For most people, they're just fireballs which decorate the night sky. For Lilia, they're friends who accompanied him on many lonely nights during the war. They were also with him when he met his unforgettable love for the first time.

It was a starry night. No clouds disturbed its peace of mind. Young fae took a stroll around their camp to make sure, if there weren't any enemies around. As he strayed farther away, he noticed a weak sight of smoke. He got closer to its source and noticed a small, wooden house. Light streamed out the windows, informing about the life inside him. Lilia came closer and looked through the glass barrier that protected the person inside the cottage. Its interior was equipped with only necessary gear like a table, a bed or a worktop. He paid it no mind and looked for a person who lived inside it.

In front of the large mirror stood a young adult. They've been checking out their attire, spinning around and posing. General found their act odd and thought that person was simply crazy. He shook his head and quietly left, finding that place unimportant and not threatening.

Stars accompanied him when he checked out on them again and again with the excuse of not trusting humans. They also were with him when he finally decided to strike up a conversation with that person. His reasoning? "They might be a spy." Lilia hated humans, it was a fact. So when he found himself drawn to the resident of the cottage, he concluded he was cursed by them. He was wary of that person, he wanted to keep them in check, but soon enough he just wanted to stay by their side. With them he felt at peace. He was ready to throw all his prejudice away.

The stars were there when the gentle brushes of their touch became more possessive, when their eyes were focused only on each other and when they whispered their vows to one another.

The only time the stars weren't there for him was when he had to say goodbye to his beloved. Who thought they could get involved in war? They were innocent soul who loved someone like him. That love killed them. He thought people wouldn't dare to touch his lover. Oh, how foolish he was. Villagers, who lived nearby, got rid of them because they were precious to a fae, to a general who terrified many living beings around him.

He buried his face in their already cold body. Various emotions were mixed in his heart, fighting for the lead. He wanted revenge, he wanted to make them all aware what awaits fools who dare to touch what's his. Even so, it wouldn't make him happy again since they're already dead. They wouldn't come back to him no matter what he did.

It was already too late for them.