#because I NEED to keep seeing him with the fuck me eyes

[moechies]

you ride toji so bad but he doesn’t even care because all he wants is to see his pretty little lady on top ♡ cw photo taking

“fuck darlin.’ pretty little lady, aren’t cha?”

you whine. soft tender hands press against the big of his chest, your manicured nails occasionally digging into the soft skin when his pudgy tip kisses against your cervix. your humping his sore cock, barely able to lift your hips high enough to properly plummet your pussy onto his cock and he can’t feel any of it besides your constant clenches around his cock. your thighs are quivering with a mixture of fervor and pain, clenching down each and everytime you feel toji’s warm balls slap against your ass.

“daddy, please..” you sigh, shaking your head slightly. your eyes roll back slowly, and you don’t even seem to realize the little drip of drool painting your chin. “t—tired, help me…”

he chuckles, shaking his head and you only whine. “no, keep going baby.” he grumbles, left hand coming up to grope at your tit and pinch at your hardened nipple. his right hand reaches behind to fondle at your ass, his touch making your writhe. “no.. n’more.” you whine, too much, you whimper under your breath.

“stop complaining, or i’ll make you ride me right. y’r doin’ terrible, but you’re lucky y’r so damned cute.” his right hand gives your ass a couple of taps filled with warning, making you cry out in frustration.

you do as your told, aimlessly humping his cock until your weak humps turn into useless grinds.

“‘m sorry daddy, c—can’t!” you squeal.

toji simply smiles, tuning out your whines as he admires your plush body, the curvature of your tummy and sweaty flush skin. your panting softly, big doe eyes shamefully looking into his as a silent plead for help. their watery, your eyelashes fluttering to blink your tears away. your bottom lip is swollen from his messy kisses, quivering gently as you sniffle.

you’re gleaming under the soft, warm light coming from the lamp besides him, below on the bedside draw lays a couple polaroids from your date earlier and the pink polaroid camera.

“whatta sight for sore fuckin’ eyes, darlin.’”

you whine, eyes following his left hand reaching at the pastel camera. “let me take a couple pictures baby. jus’ f’me. then i’ll fuck ya right, just like i know ya need it.”

you sniffle, whining in embarrassment but he doesn’t wait for a yes. he presses the button to turn on the camera just as you had taught him a couple months ago, pointing the lens directly at your face, capturing your gleaming tits and torso. out of habit, your left arm covers across your face, “cover y’rself and i can fuckin’ promise you won’t be cummin’ anytime soon.” toji growls, a primal hint in his voice for the very first time tonight. you only whimper, lowering the limb. “there we go. smile, baby.”

and you do, give a cheeky grin with no teeth, arms tightening against your sides to push your tits tight. the flash goes off, and the photo is printing before you can even blink. toji hums, “my good girl. you know what i like hm?”

you do.

toji tugs out the polaroid, placing it on the bedside table.

“lift that ass and let me see that pussy creamin’ round me. last one.” you whine again but obey, using his chest as leverage as you lift yourself onto your knees. a loud shlick elicits from the movement, revealing your clenching pussy around toji’s girth. it’s messy, the way his cum rings around the base of his cock and tacts itself on the fat of your pussy lips. his favorites — his girl and his cunt a mess. a photo of each.

“please…” you whine.

his left thumb comes to spread at your left pussy lip, revealing the tight grip the soft muscle has around him, hugging his cock’s each and every vein. “thereee we go. good girl.” you whimper as the flash goes off again, the lewd photo printing. before you know it, you’re flipped onto your back.

“the fuckin’ woman you are. yer gonna be the death of me. hm?” toji grits. you can’t even process the praise before he’s pummeling his cock balls deep into your pussy, just because he knows how much you love it. ♡

[heartyluv]

cockwarming with caleb and zayne (separately) and they’re sleepy and clingy and won’t let you out of their sight 🫢 omg who said that…

Note: Righttt, like who said that.. 👀 But really, this was so fun, omg. I hope headcanons are okay. I just felt like all the ideas were flowing so easily like this. And I am so sorry if this is too freaked outtt LOLL!!! Thank you so much for the request, luvly!

Creds to @/enchanthings & @/anitalenia for the dividers!

Warning: I feel like cock warming being in this is enough for you guys to understand what’s going to be happening in here.

Caleb

ꨄ︎ Okay so for Caleb, I feel like he comes home after needing to be away for work. Your man is tired and jet lagged, and the first thing he wants to do after he washes the airport off of himself, is take a long nap with you.

ꨄ︎ And duhhh, you are climbing in that bed with him. You two fall asleep, but you wake up maybe an hour into it. He’s knocked out, even snoring a little. While being in his arms is where you’d want to be, you did have some chores to finish up before he got home. So you figure, why don’t I just get up and do them while he sleeps so he gets my undivided attention later?

ꨄ︎ So with the stealth of a ninja—an inexperienced one—you snake out of his hold. You wash dishes, prep for dinner, and you even take a shower. Like that’s how tired he is because I think Caleb would notice if you even twitched on a normal day, let alone sneaking out of the bed.

ꨄ︎ Then bam, another hour goes by, maybe an hour and a half. (I believe you wanted to get back into bed with him, but you didn’t want to wake your poor baby up.) Caleb isn’t necessarily awake, but you know those times where you wake up and you’re half aware for like a second? That’s what happens with him when he notices you’re gone. And he does not like that.

ꨄ︎ He’s like a lost puppy, getting out the bed, groggy, hair messy, and searching for you. It’s a quick search since he sees you as soon as he steps out the room. You’re in the living room, watching something on TV.

ꨄ︎ “Baby, you left me,” he says sleepily, eyes barely open. “Come back to bed. Please?”

ꨄ︎ And you think it’s all innocent, till you look over at him and he has a tent in his pantsss LOLLL. Like okay, it was completely innocent, but I firmly believe Caleb is always semi-hard around you. He actually can’t help it. It’s like his cock is always on go and just ready when you are.

ꨄ︎ He notices you staring and even when he looks like he needs to take his ass to bed, he can’t help but smirk. And don’t get him wrong, he wants to fuck you. But his body legitimately needs more rest, so he tells you what he’s thinking.

ꨄ︎ “Why don’t you come watch your show in the room with my cock inside you? Best of both worlds, don’t you think?”

ꨄ︎ Cock warming is y’all’s thingggg omg. So you make sure you’re quick to follow him. And Caleb doesn’t just want his dick inside of you, he wants skin to skin contact.

ꨄ︎ Now, I’m about to get freaky, so bare with me.

ꨄ︎ You both get undressed, you make sure you have the remote before you lay down, and Caleb’s strong body is right behind you.

ꨄ︎ “Go ahead and find what you were watching,” he kisses your neck. “Let me get you ready for me.”

ꨄ︎ Baby, you’re trying to just click on the damn app to open it but you’re struggling. And you wanna know why? BECAUSE WHILE YOU HOLD YOUR LEG UP, CALEB IS TEASING YOUR CLIT WITH THE TIP OF HIS COCK TO GET YOU WETTTT!!!!!

ꨄ︎ You keep squeezing and clenching around nothing, and the ache in between your thighs is making you dizzy. And mind you, HE’S DOING ALL OF THIS HALF SLEEP, SO IT’S SLOW AND LAZYYY.

ꨄ︎ “I’m about to slide in, okay?” He kisses your shoulder. “You have to stay with me. Don’t want to wake up and you’re not here, again.”

ꨄ︎ And guess what…? When his cock starts to fill you up and he’s a little more than halfway in… You… Have… An… ORGASM!!!!!! Shocked both him and you, but he wasn’t complaining, not one bit.

ꨄ︎ “Holy fuck… If my body wasn’t so tired…”

ꨄ︎ But you assure him it’s okay and he’s fully seated in your soaked cunt, his cock being warmed by your slick and comforted by your tightness.

ꨄ︎ He’s knocked out again shortly after, the sheets over your waists while you play your show on low volume. And you definitely feel him pulse inside of you. It’s comforting in a way.

ꨄ︎ Here’s your overall visual: You just came—unexpectedly—and Caleb’s cock is sitting inside of you. He’s sleeping with his face over your shoulder, his steady breathing in your ear. His big arms hold you so tight, you’re both fully naked, and his strong chest is against your back. And, his hand is on your boob, gently holding it like it’s a stress reliever LOLLLL. You already know, you’re not going anywhere for a good few hours.

Zayne

❄︎ Now for sweet Zayne, I think he’s coming home from the hospital and all he wants to do is be with you. You know those days where you just feel extra clingy for some reason? That’s what he’s feeling. I think between being sleepy and seeing you as his comfort makes his heart so full and warm.

❄︎ But, he frowns when he walks in and you’re not there. No music is playing, he doesn’t hear you humming, he just doesn’t see any sign of you. You’re always doing one of those things when he comes home, so he’s down that he doesn’t see any of it.

❄︎ When he went to text you, it came to him that you told him you were going out with a friend tonight for her birthday. But he smiles when he gets ready to put his phone away to see you had messaged him, telling him you’d be home in twenty minutes.

❄︎ He utilizes that time to do his nightly routine and when you walk through that door? Despite his tiredness, he is hands on.

❄︎ “You look nice,” he kisses your neck as he slides your purse off your shoulder, not even needing to look at the hook to hang it up. “I missed you.”

❄︎ Now, you can’t stop giggling at his ticklish kisses and grabby hands. But you see how tired he is and you’re just as tired from being out, so you know sex isn’t going to happen tonight. So, you suggest cock warming. I don’t think you’ve guys have done it before, honestly. I think you’ve had moments where he’d be sitting inside you for a little bit after having sex, but it’s never longer than a minute or two.

❄︎ “I’m willing to try it. If it lets me feel as close to you as possible, it will become my new favorite pastime.”

❄︎ Zayne doesn’t even want to be away from you while you get undressed. I even think he’s helping you LOLL. Helping you with your heels, sliding your dress off, and had he not showered before you got home, he would’ve been in there with you.

❄︎ But once all of that’s done, you know you have to help him get hard and with what he’s been expecting, he’s already halfway there.

❄︎ Zayne lovessss stimulation. He’s a whining mess when you start to stroke him in his pants, breathing heavily into your mouth as you kiss him tenderly. And the ways he’s talking.. GOOD GOD.. All the while, you’re getting soaked just by doing this. You didn’t even bother with putting panties on.

❄︎ “Is it normal to be so addicted to you? I don’t think I have it in me to be apart from you for any amount of time. Will you indulge me and my selfishness?”

❄︎ Once he lays in the bed, you climb in his lap while he holds his cock to guide himself into you. And it’s literally a breath of fresh air for him when your walls spread to accommodate him. AND WITH THE SLEEPY TONE OF HIS VOICE, IF YOU HAD IT IN YOU, YOU WOULD’VE JUST STARTING BOUNCING ON IT.

❄︎ “Oh, you’re so good to me,” he whispers when you gasp while his cock slides in. “I can’t believe I’ve deprived myself of something so intoxicating.”

❄︎ You actually have him shivering, that’s how good it is. It’s so tender, intimate, and he knows that if you’ll allow him, he’d prefer to be with you like this as much as possible.

❄︎ “Since it’s my day off, I intend to spend all day tomorrow, like this. Is that alright? Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

❄︎ Every gentle squeeze of your walls is like being welcomed home. And it’s not long till you both fall asleep like this. I just know every time you move even a little bit, he holds you tighter. He’s serious about not letting you go anywhere if he can help it. If he could cook dinner while you wrapped yourself around him, I’m so sure he’d do it LOLL.

❄︎ Between your weight on top of him and his cock seated in your pussy, the man is wrapped in the most luxurious cocoon. This was the closeness he was yearning for.

[skyrigel]

Simon sees no reason why there is a vibrator hiding in one of the cabinets - he has fucked you deep and raw, all through the night and arched through the begining of dawn where you weren't even awake.

Sometimes your knees around your head, sometimes his hands digging in your flesh, sometimes his lips swallowing you completely while his cock fills your inside with hot dripping cum, sometimes when he holds you in his chokehold and breeds your bareback, sometimes tenderly in his arms, in all ways.

Why would you even need this?

He eats you out like his life depends on it, on his knees face buried deep in your cunt, sucking on your clit and lapsing in your hot juices.

What irks him more is the hiding state in which he finds your pink vibrator.

Doesn't he makes you feel so good?

It unnerves him, which is why Simon doesn't cater to your ushered moans, begging him to fuck you. "plea...si-" you wiggle back your naked ass, while pressed flat on the desk. "fuck me, nyea-" arching at his touch.

His sadist finger trailing down your naked spine, cum marked by your orgasm of earlier. His fingertips wetting against your dripping pussy oh fuck, you're so hot - and he sucks in one sharp breath, you are so intoxicating, his doll.

"feelin' good, aye?" Simon rubs two fingers along your sore, puffy lips. He has been it for a long time, hours, he guesses, already has made you cum with four fingers piston fucking you relentlessly until your toes curled which were hanging above the floor.

Your knees are weak and you don't know about the vibrator he has with him. “please...mmm, simon.” you whine.

Simon's palm fall flat on your ass with a loud yelp, before resting back on the small of your back keeping you flat against his office desk, the only thing supporting you.

Your own fingers curled at the edge holding for dear life. "Si...baby..ah, ah" again his one deft digit slips inside your warm folds.

You pout, overwhelmed, "I N-need yo..your dick."

Simon smirks and pulls out his sticky wet finger, marveling at it, ofcourse lovie, but he has plans for now, and with a smug look in his eyes he hisses, painfully hard and oh, how easy it would be to fuck you like this, dripping, hot, and begging for him.

But Simon's not an easy man, is he?

He pressures you further against the desk before you start wiggling, "Just there lovie." he smiles, and goes on to put blunt round head of the vibrator against your clit.

Before you could know, because ofcourse your walls know what Simon's cock like, how he feels inside and over you, "Thats no-"

Simon starts the vibrator on its highest setting, buzzing against your sore pussy.

"-Si...nyeah..oh god, oh fuck, fuck," your mouth is incoherent, back at the powerful sensation pulsing inside you.

He doesn't even have to see what setting his thumb is on, your ass doing erratic movements tells well enough. "mmm, what ya' want lovie?" he massages along your clit, the pink ball glossing with your coating.

"mmph...oh fuck, oh fuck m-me baby." you mumble, fucked out of your head.

Anything for his love.

Masterlist

[faiszt]

cockwarming w bob. that's it, thats the tweet

COCKWARMING ╱ with BOB REYNOLDS ⠀◟ ୨ blurb !♥︎ minors do not interact⠀⠀⠀ ────⠀⠀⠀ headcanon based

diary notes⠀✴⠀·⠀i love your brain for thinking of this, i guess this is bob’s blurb that i enjoyed writing the most. touch-starved bob reynolds save me right now, pls ‹/3

he loved having physical contact with you, whether it was just hugging you, intertwining your fingers with his, or leaving loving kisses on your shoulder. bob liked everything that involved the idea of being able to touch you, of feeling your soft skin and being able to appreciate it the way he liked. he’s touch-starved, he needs it.

he took it literally when it came to deeply touching you whenever he could. not only because it was pleasurable, but because you could talk about anything while his cock was buried inside you, being warmed by your tight, comforting heat that he craved daily. you couldn’t deny him when he asked so politely, caressing your waist and giving you little kisses until you were straddling him.

telling him about your day was part of the process as he pulled his hardened length out of his boxers, moving your panties to the side just enough so he could rub himself against your soft folds. “i’m glad you had a good day, princess.” he’d murmur softly, smiling innocently as if he wasn’t trying to slip the tip of his cock inside you little by little. “i missed you, you know?”

cockwarming almost seemed so much more sentimental to him than sex itself, he liked knowing that you felt like he was a part of you, that he had the freedom to be inside you for more than just carnal pleasures. there was pleasure, for sure, but there was also a deeper connection than just what appeared to be on the surface. it made him truly happier, calmer... perhaps, it could even be said that you were, well... helping to take care of his mental health in a way.

“i missed you too.” you whispered, giving him a sweet smile as your fingers gently brushed some of his dark hair away from his face, he looked at you like you were the most precious thing he had ever seen. “and your day? how was it?”

by this point, he was already completely buried inside you—which made you let out a low moan for a moment, leaving him somewhat agitated beneath you. “the drums you gave me are cool,” bob answered. he snuggled deeper into the pillow behind his head, his large hands gripping your hips, just to make sure you stayed still and comfortable in his lap while warming him the way you both loved. “but, the neighbors will complain about the noise i made all afternoon... i’m not really good at this yet.”

his little giggled warmed your chest, you leaned over him and laid your head in the crook of his neck, leaving a few soft kisses there that sent shivers down his spine. “don’t do that, i get shivers...” he complained, but it was a meaningless complaint. if you never did that again, he’d probably complain that you didn’t love him anymore and that’s why you stopped giving him little kisses on the neck.

“if the neighbors complain, i can just tell them to fuck off.” your kisses rose to the corner of his lips, your eyes staring into his ocean blue ones. “besides, they never complained about the other noises at night... why would they complain about you playing drums in the afternoon?”

his eyebrows raised at your sentence, nodding and processing the words you had said. “other noises at night?” the question was more to himself than to you, so you could almost see the light bulb go off over his head as he really understood what you meant. “oh, yeah... the other noises. you’re probably right, i guess.”

“i’m always right.” you said smugly, pressing your lips against his soft ones for a quick peck—one he didn’t want to stop so quickly. bob’s hand, which was previously caressing your hip, rose to the back of your neck, keeping your lips against his without you being able to move away completely, he didn’t want just a few pecks, not today. he was usually a little more restrained than that, but come on, he was a good boy for you all day like you told him to be when he was home alone, he deserved it.

a low growl tore from his throat, deepening the kiss as his tongue slid across your bottom lip and almost begged for entry. in an intimate dance, your tongues touched and sucked each other while his other hand pressing your hip harder to the point where it slightly hurt as he kept you pressed against him. bob wanted to feel every inch of your body, every point of heat, being buried balls deep inside you still seemed like nothing compared to how much he craved you, not just your body, but everything that means you.

there was no safer place for him than inside you, feeling your body against his, your breathing heavy and your hands against his neck, just how he wanted, the fuel he needed.

when your lips parted, he continued to pepper kisses across your cheek, simply unable to keep his lips away from your soft skin. “you get prettier when you’re flustered by something i did.” he whispered against your ear before placing one last kiss against her earlobe, snuggling into the pillows again. “i like how you widen your eyes...”

these compliments were almost typical of him, always paying attention to every little detail of your expressions, studying your reactions to what he did. bob wanted to please you, in every way, ’cause you also deserved what only he could give you and there was no doubt about that.

“princess,” he called to you when you were silent, enjoying the feeling of being filled by him. “can i sleep inside you tonight, please? your pussy is so warm and it feels good... i don’t wanna pull out. can i?” his eyes almost looked like a puppy’s, staring at you while tenderly stroked your strands of hair. he loved your hair—the color, texture and the smell of your shampoo, every little thing about it—and he knew you liked it when he petted you like that.

“you wanna sleep inside me?” it wasn’t strange, it was just a new request, you had already thought of the idea back then, but it was something new when he was the one asking you for it. “okay, baby, we can do it.” there probably wouldn’t be a day when you’d deny him something, especially when you also wanted to do it.

his smile widened as if you had given him something he had been longing for—well, in a way, that was the case—and he pressed his lips against yours once more. “thank you, sweet pea.” his hand that had remained on your hip the entire time moved, going to your ass and squeezing it, massaging the skin his fingers touched. “i’ll give you your reward in the morning, yeah? pinky promise, love. you deserve all that.”

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox, you’ll be welcome. ꒰ ˶> ˕ <˶ ꒱ ♡

©⠀𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐙𝐓, 2025.⠀don’t use my work without my consent.

[nephynes]

hear me out. obsessed psycho jake. just imagine him acting like the most affectionate and perfect boy ever and when no one is looking he is completely insane over you…. like deadass insane

i literally couldn’t resist oh gosh

MDNI

══════════════════════════

You love Jake so much it hurts sometimes.

He’s so perfect. The kind of boyfriend your friends tease you about like where did you even find him and can he teach a class or something? Your parents adore him. Strangers stop you in coffee shops to compliment the way he pulls out your chair or rests his hand on the small of your back when you walk through doors. He buys you flowers just because, walks on the street side of the sidewalk. He remembers the names of your professors and how you like your tea - hot, with just a little honey, no lemon and he always keeps it waiting for you after a long day.

When you cry, he cries. He hates seeing you hurt, he holds you like you’re made of porcelain and whispers things into your hair like I’ll fix it. I promise. And he does. Every time.

He remembers every detail you give him. That one movie you mentioned offhand in sophomore year? He finds a rare DVD copy and wraps it for you, no occasion. The stuffed animal you loved as a kid? He tracks it down on eBay. You joke sometimes that he knows you better than you know yourself and he just smiles, kisses your forehead, and says, “Of course I do.”

He’s attentive. Gentle and so thoughtful.

So you forgive the little things.

Like how he always knows where you are, even if you didn’t tell him. How he shows up outside your class just as you’re leaving, says he was “in the area.” How he texts within five minutes if you don’t answer. How he noticed when you started following someone new on Instagram and asked you about it with a soft smile and steady eye contact, like it didn’t mean anything. Like he wasn’t waiting to hear if your answer was the wrong one.

Sometimes, when you’re cuddling, his arms tighten just a little too much. Just for a second. You always chalk it up to passion. To love.

And when you ask him why he never takes his eyes off you, why he watches you like he’s studying you, memorizing you, he just says, voice quiet, “Because I need to know you. All of you. Always.”

It’s romantic. It’s flattering.

Until sometimes it’s not.

Until the night you come home late. Just about thirty minutes. Group project ran a little too long, someone wanted to get food, you didn’t think to tell him and he’s already waiting inside your apartment.

You blink. “How did you—?”

“I have a key, remember?” he says, voice sweet. “You gave it to me, baby.”

You did. You don’t remember when. But you must’ve.

He smiles. It’s soft. It’s… off.

“I was worried about you. You’re usually home by now.”

“I just—got caught up, that’s all. Sorry.”

He nods. Still smiling. Then steps forward.

And when he kisses you this time, it’s deeper. Slower. Not just affection, it’s something way heavier. Possessive.

You try to pull back, say something light, but he’s already tugging you closer, walking you backwards toward the bedroom.

“Jake—”

“You love me, right?”

You freeze.

“Of course I do.”

His eyes darken, lips brushing your jaw. “Then show me.”

The switch is so gradual you almost miss it.

He’s still smiling. Still murmuring sweet things as he undresses you, lays you back on the bed like you’re delicate but his hands are shaking.

He strips you bare slowly, reverently, kissing every new patch of exposed skin like it’s sacred.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes. “Sometimes I think you’re not real. Like I made you up.”

You whisper his name, soft, breathy, and he groans like it hurts. His fingers tremble when they touch you, drag down your stomach, your thighs. He mouths at your chest, at your ribs, at your hips like he’s starving and you’re the only thing that can feed him.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers against your skin. “I can’t. I’ll go fucking insane.”

“Jake, I’m not—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, wet and messy and deep. You feel it in your throat.

“I know you talk to other people,” he says suddenly, breath hot. “I know you smile at them. Let them near you. But you’re mine, baby. You understand that, right?”

His voice is sweet. But it’s shaking.

“I just need to hear it. Need you to say it.”

You nod, dazed, lips parted.

“I’m yours,” you say. “I’m only yours.”

His hands grip your thighs so tight and he groans again. Like you’ve given him something he can finally breathe in.

“You don’t know what that does to me,” he says, lining himself up, dragging the tip of his cock through your soaked folds. “Hearing you say that.”

And when he pushes in, it’s slow. Deliberate. Deep.

You cry out, overwhelmed, not just from the stretch, but from how intimate it feels. He’s watching you the whole time. Breathing like he’s trying not to lose control.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Take it, baby. Let me in.”

You can’t think. Can’t breathe. He’s fucking you like he’s trying to merge with you, like it’s not enough to be inside, he wants to stay there. Forever.

“You feel that?” he groans, grinding deep. “No one else gets to feel you like this. No one else even gets to look at you like this.”

He fucks you slow but hard, never pulling out too far, never letting you get used to it. His hands move everywhere, your hips, your throat, your cheek, like he needs to hold every part of you at once.

“Say it,” he pants. “Say it’s mine.”

“It’s yours,” you gasp. “Jake—fuck—it’s all yours.”

“And you’re mine.”

“Yes—yes, I’m yours.”

He kisses you again. Sloppier this time. Less practiced. His rhythm starts to stutter and you think maybe he’s close but then he stops completely.

You whimper, confused, on the edge of sobbing.

He smiles. Brushes your hair from your face. “Beg.”

Your eyes go wide. “W-what?”

“I said beg. Tell me how badly you need me. How you’d lose your fucking mind without me.”

And you do.

Because he’s still inside you. Because your body’s on fire. Because your brain can’t make sense of anything but him.

“I need you, Jake. I’d go crazy without you. I’d die without you—please, please don’t stop—”

He lets out a sound between a growl and a laugh, hips snapping forward so deep you swear he hits something new.

“There’s my girl,” he breathes. “Always so good for me.”

You can’t remember your own name.

Just his.

Jake Jake Jake Jake.

You don’t know how long it lasts. How many times you come. How many things he makes you say.

By the time he finishes, buried deep, panting your name like a prayer, you’re shaking.

He kisses your forehead. Wraps you in his arms like nothing happened.

“See?” he whispers, voice thick with adoration. “No one will ever love you like I do.”

And you believe him.

Because no one else could.

══════════════════════════

• a/n: RAHHHHHH

[angelx]

I WANT A PART 2 ME ME ME

YOU ASKED I SHALL DELIVER 😭😭 pt. 2 of katsuki having happy trail <3

warnings: nsfw! bf!katsuki with happy trail, blow job, katsuki and reader are freaked the fuck out, dirty talk, katsuki is very vocal

Your brain doesn’t even get a vote.

One second, Katsuki's smirking down at you with his thighs spread like a damn throne—and the next, your knees hit the floor like gravity personally called your name.

You're between his legs, palms on his thighs, and all dignity left the chat ten seconds ago. His sweatpants are riding dangerously low now, barely clinging to his hips, and your eyes lock onto that trail again—messy, soft, masculine. It brushes your nose as you lean in, pressing your mouth to the skin just beneath his bellybutton like it’s holy ground.

And maybe it is. Maybe you’re religious now. Maybe your god has ash blond hair and a dirty mouth and a happy trail that’s leading you straight to salvation.

“Fuck,” Katsuki breathes out, low and rough, hand sliding into your hair, not to push—but to feel. To watch. His abs tense as your mouth moves lower, slow kisses trailing along that line like you’re following a map with your lips.

“You’re really fuckin’ goin’ for it, huh,” he mutters, voice strained, and you can feel the smile on his lips even without looking up. “Didn’t even ask.”

You glance up, lips hovering over the waistband of his sweats, your nose still pressed just beneath his navel. His happy trail tickles your skin, and your thighs squeeze together in reflex. He sees it. Of course he does.

You lick a stripe down the trail, slow and purposeful, and Katsuki grunts, head tipping back for a second as his grip in your hair tightens.

"You wanna be a good girl for me or a fuckin’ brat?” he growls, voice rough as sin.

You blink up at him, lips parted, letting your breath fan over that line again. And then you smile. “Why not both?”

Your smile’s barely faded before you hook your fingers into the waistband of his sweats and pull them down with purpose—no teasing, no hesitation, just goal-oriented slut.

His cock springs free, already hard, flushed at the tip, and angry looking in the best possible way. You don’t even pause to appreciate it because you’re already moving.

You lick a stripe up the base, nice and slow, letting your nose nuzzle against that happy trail again like it’s your personal anchor—something grounding you as you prepare to devour. It brushes against your skin, soft and warm, and somehow that tiny sensation makes your eyes roll back more than anything else.

Katsuki groans, one hand gripping the couch cushion, the other tangled in your hair like he needs to hold on.

"Fuck, look at you," he mutters, voice hoarse.

You suck the head into your mouth, lips plush and stretched, tongue swirling beneath it like you’re trying to memorize the shape. He twitches against your tongue, a sharp breath escaping his teeth.

You take more. More. Until your nose is nearly pressed to his pelvis, and that happy trail is brushing your skin with every bob of your head, keeping you dizzy and feral. You’re making the sloppiest sounds—spit slicking your chin, eyes fluttering, throat relaxing like it’s your f*cking purpose.

“Jesus—shit, sweetheart—” Katsuki’s voice cracks, hips twitching up, and suddenly he’s cupping the back of your head with both hands, not pushing, just holding you there, like he’s struggling not to lose it too fast.

Katsuki’s chest heaves. He looks down at you like you’re something both dangerous and sacred. Then—

“You’re still far away from fuckin’ done.”

He fists your hair tighter, and before you can respond, he guides you back down—not rough, not yet, just firm.

Katsuki is so close.

You can feel it in how his thighs twitch beneath your hands. How his grip in your hair tightens. How his hips start to stutter, rhythm breaking down, breath coming in fast little growls.

“Fuuuck, baby,” he grits out, voice all gravel and desperation. “You gonna take it? Gonna let me come in that filthy mouth of yours?”

You hum around him—yes, yes, yes—and the vibration makes him snarl.

“Shit—fuck—gonna come, I’m—fuck—don’t stop—”

He grabs a fistful of your hair, holding you flush against him, cock buried deep, your nose pressed against his skin—right where the trail ends. And then—

He shudders.

You feel the first hot pulse hit the back of your throat, then another, and another—his whole body going tight as he groans through clenched teeth, hips twitching with each release. He’s breathing like he just ran a damn marathon, and you? You swallow without hesitation.

Every drop.

Even when it’s too much. Even when it drips past your lips, down your chin, sticky and messy and so goddamn hot.

Katsuki finally eases his grip, watching you pull back slowly, mouth still open, tongue out like you’re showing off.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, staring at you like you just performed a dark ritual. “You tryna kill me or somethin’?”

You swallow again, wipe your chin with the back of your hand, and smirk up at him.

“Nope. Just tryna help you relax, babe.”

He lets out a breathless laugh—wrecked and amused—and drags you into his lap without warning.

“Then I hope you cleared your schedule,” he mutters against your ear, voice still wrecked.

“’Cause I’m gonna spend the rest of the night returning the favor.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Check out pt. 1 here!

check out my other works here!: MHA MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milky2-0 @anime2006

[paarksunghoon]

resignation (7)

SUMMARY: For the last six years, you’ve dedicated your career to ensuring Park Sunghoon never misses a day of work in his life. But you’re tired of endless days that seem to blend together, and seeing him living his fun, luxurious lifestyle makes you think about what else you might be missing out on. When Sunghoon finds your resignation letter on his desk, he does everything in his power to convince you to stay.

NOTES: this chapter is also unedited. sorry y'all

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: mutual masturbation, phone sex, dirty talk.

SERIES PLAYLIST + SERIES MASTERLIST

***

Sunghoon has grown far more bold ever since having dinner with him for the second time. You don't shy away or make a fuss about it when the two of you are alone together, and it scares you just how much you enjoy being in his company without the pretext of making sure he’s on track to succeed at his job. 

He calls you after work to talk about anything but for the first time. Sunghoon keeps you company on the phone while you make dinner, and the two of you remain on the line while you brush your teeth before putting yourself to bed. He does the same, too, informing you of his meal and that he’s the kind of guy who needs a sweet treat before he goes to bed. 

He’s just as bold on the phone as he is in person. 

“Is it bad that I want to touch you?” 

“What?” 

“I just…I miss touching you. I’ll go crazy if I’m not near you.”

“You’re insane. Are you drunk?”

“Stone cold sober,” he tells you when you’ve settled into your sheets. It sounds like Sunghoon’s rustling in his bed sheets to sit up and rest against his headboard. “Can’t believe you’re so far from me.”

Is it normal for you to get worked up over Sunghoon’s voice? 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about the night you slept over. God, you were so wet. You look really good when you come and you sound even better.”

His words echo in your mind and you grow more aroused with every word spoken. Sunghoon speaks like he’s got the raw honest truth that needs to be shared, or else it’ll make him go mad. His voice is breathy and light. It almost makes you think he’s troubled by it. You sit upright, too. Your pillows act as a brace for your back as you cross your legs and keep your phone by your ear.  

“I can’t stop thinking about eating you out in your office either. Do you know how long I’ve been fantasizing about that? I can’t believe you let me eat it during work hours.”

“You’ve thought about it?” you ask in disbelief.

“Yeah. More times than I’d like to admit.”

“H-How long?”

Sunghoon lets out a breathy laugh. “Years, maybe. Definitely when you came into the office wearing the long purple dress. You looked so good waiting for me.”

You can’t help when you clench around nothing and roll your hips in the air. There’s no doubt your cunt is sopping wet by Sunghoon’s words alone, and his confession leaves you aching for his touch. 

“I don’t know what it was about that dress. It was backless. You wore high heels, too. The kind I’d never seen you wear before. You looked different than you usually did.” 

You put your phone on speaker and close your eyes as you let your middle finger ghost over your covered slit, imagining it was Sunghoon touching you instead. It takes you right back to the morning he fingered you for the first time when you feel how wet you are. You almost feel shameful for getting horny over the sound of Sunghoon’s voice. But it’s deep and seductive, and you can’t help it. 

“I’ve always thought you were attractive. I love assertive women. I love when you put me in my place and argue up the wall until one of us gives up. It drives me fucking crazy when you get mad at me because all I can think about it how good the sex would be.”

You whimper quietly. It catches over the phone and Sunghoon hears it.

“Are you horny, baby?” Sunghoon asks like he can’t believe you feel the same way too. 

“Yeah.”

“Me too. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He breathes heavily and emits a quiet moan. You’re afraid to admit how incredibly attractive Sunghoon’s moans are and settle for biting your lip while prodding your covered cunt against your opening. 

“Remember when we fooled around the night you stayed over? My dick was so hard for you. I was ready to take off your clothes and fuck you right then. 

But it was late and we had work. You looked at me like you wanted it. I could see how badly you wanted me. Did you see how badly I wanted you too?” 

After moving your panties to the side, you take the underside of your fingertips and glide when back and forth over your soaked pussy. You pass your clit with every swipe and jolt at the euphoric feeling while pretending it’s Sunghoon’s hand. You could come from just this if you tried hard enough. 

“You’re a little quiet. Are you okay?”

“I…” you trial off, finding the courage to speak. “I like hearing you talk.”

Sunghoon hums. “You like hearing how horny you make me?”

“God yes.” It comes out like you’re desperate for it. 

“I can’t wait to fuck you. For real, this time. We’ll have all the time in the world for foreplay, but this time, I’ll be able to fuck you without anything or anyone interrupting.” 

When you hear wet sounds on the other end of the line, you can’t help but moan. You picture Sunghoon spreading his precum all over his cock with his hand shaped like a fist, twisting his wrist so that his thumb reaches his tip. You picture him with his phone put on speaker in order to use both hands to jerk himself off. 

The echoes of his wetness splashing makes you put a single finger inside of you. When you listen carefully, you hear Sunghoon’s heavy breathing and the way he’s touching himself. You picture what his face would look like with his eyes closed and mouth wide open.

“I think you want that as badly as I do. I’ve got a place by the countryside. How about a weekend getaway? I’ll fuck you for the entire weekend if that’s what you want.”

Sunghoon hisses and you picture him with his hips in the air as he squeezes himself at the base. Your reference of his print from the first time helps you imagine how big he is without his clothes on. Big and thick. You push your finger deeper inside you and pull your wrist out, just to push it in again. 

“I could fuck your perfect pussy in my bed. I’ll take you on my couch while we’re watching a movie. We’ll do it in the shower and in my car.”

He wants to fuck you this badly? Sunghoon’s words falter with every passing sentence. It sounds like he’s losing his grip on sanity the more he jerks himself off. You come to the conclusion that if you can hear Sunghoon touching himself, he could likely hear you getting off too.

Why does that make you feel excited? 

You feel crazy when you think about what he’s saying. Why does it sound like Sunghoon has been thinking about this for a while? And, God, how is he able to bring out this side of you? 

“I can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

Sunghoon’s hand picks up the pace and he moans, unashamed. His deep grunts push you to add another finger inside and recall the girth of his own. You think about what he’d look like touching you in the quiet of your room on your own bed sheets instead of his. You imagine Sunghoon’s naked chest hovering over you while his face contorts into an expression of pleasure when he fucks his fingers inside of you. 

Thinking about him like this makes you feel exhilarated. Your chest heaves up and down and you can’t help but roll your hips and push them towards your fingers. You reach the deepest parts of yourself and moan out loud, covering your mouth when you realize how loud you sound.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Sunghoon whimpers on the other end. “Keep going. You sound so fucking good.”

It’s not hard to listen to him. Moaning against your palm is like second nature when your fingers push themselves in and out. Sunghoon grunts and you imagine himself fucking his hips up in the air while his other hand tries to chase after his balls to squeeze them. He must be jerking himself off fast and quickly by the sound of slapping. 

Imagining what it would feel like to go all the way with him pushes you over the edge. Sunghoon’s words get to you, and you think about his dick ramming inside of you like he’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you properly. He sounds mangled and desperate to touch you without interruption. Something tells you he wouldn’t care if somebody walked in on him pleasuring you, but you know Sunghoon wants you all to himself just as badly.  

You come with panting breaths and Sunghoon moans, too. The way you moan together sounds euphoric. So much, in fact, that you picture him on top of you as he finishes alongside you. You scrum able to grab your phone and take him off speaker so you can hear Sunghoo’s moans directly in your ear, and pretend he’s moaning while on top of you.

“I’m gonna, shit, holy shit—”

Sunghoon moans loudly when he comes. You imagine his hand working overtime to push out every last drop with his eyes wired shut. He could either be squirting ropes out his tip until it splashes on his abdomen. Or, his come could come out like a slow fountain and drip all over his dick until it seeps past his base. The urge to see him orgasm overtakes your every desire. It’s not fair that he’s seen you naked twice and you haven’t seen him named at all. 

“You’re perfect.” 

You snort. “Give me a second to calm down before you coddle me, would you? And what am I, a booty call when you can’t get off?” 

“You’re more than that to me, and you know it. You just like giving me a hard time.”

“Someone has to.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“When am I not?” 

He chuckles. “We should probably sleep. Work, you know?”

“You can be so awkward sometimes.” You laugh and pick up the phone to put it by your ear. “And, um…you sound really good. You know, when you, like…yeah.”

“When I what?” He’s teasing you and he knows you know it. 

“You know!” 

“I do, but I want to hear you say it.” 

Your cheeks warm up and you find your courage. “You sound really good when you moan. I just…jesus.” 

“And you sound like a fucking angel every time I make you come.” 

“I’m going to hang up now,” you say hastily with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. He laughs. “Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

“Night, love. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

***

Maybe you’re losing your goddamn mind. 

It’s hard to keep work separate from whatever’s going on between you and Sunghoon because every moment in his office feels like a lion stalking its prey. He’s professional in all sense of the word, except when he winks at you when nobody’s looking. You can’t count the times he’s snuck a kiss when the two of you are alone in the break room. 

Is this a situationship? Is it casual dating? Would he describe this as either? 

These questions have circled inside your mind from the minute you let him bury his fingers deep into you. You’re the kind of girl who likes a distinct answer with a clear label. You like stability and clarity, not the back and forth that you see in Netflix dramas. 

Even so, you can’t help but relish the time you spend with Sunghoon. He’s giving you the kind of attention you’ve been secretly yearning for during your years away from home. It felt scary to jump into the deep end without knowing how far you’d fall, but Sunghoon makes you think the risk is worth it. 

“Did I lose you?” 

Sunoo’s voice cuts through your phone and you blink twice while staring at yourself in the mirror with a tube of mascara in hand. His voice brings you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

“Thinking about lover boy, aren’t you?”

“He’s my boss, Sun.”

“A boss you’re fucking.”

“We are not fucking!” 

“Yet.” 

You close the mascara tube. “You’re so insufferable. I don’t know why I bother to update you on my life when you have plenty of action back home.”

Sunoo laughs. “It’s ’cause you love me and have no friends.”

“Yah. No need to rub it in. I’m pretty sure I’m becoming friends with my neighbor who watches Pochi for me when Sunghoon needs me to stay late.” 

“That’s good. See, you aren’t totally helpless when it comes to your social life.” 

You sigh. “Yeah, I guess. It’s been hard juggling work and my personal life. It feels like every person I hang out with is a product of my job. Everybody wants a meeting to connect with me, but nobody gives a shit about me.” 

“Don’t say that. I know I tease you a lot, but that’s because I love you. People don’t see how great you are.”

“Ha. Maybe. Quitting Park Inc. will give me more time to think about my life. I don’t care if I have to work in a library for a year. Anything is better than a job where I won’t grow.” 

“It sounds like you’re doing the right thing.”

“Am I?” You sigh into the phone. “I have no backup plan. I’m quitting on a whim and the money I’ve gotten from Sunghoon will last me for a while, sure, but then what? It’s not like I can crawl back to this company if I don’t find anything better.”

“You’ve been thinking about quitting for months,” Sunoo reminds you. “This isn’t a rash decision. We’ve spent a lot of time talking about this. You’re not happy working at this company and it’s about damn time you have a life outside of work.”

“I know. It’s just…different, I guess. I’ve gotten used to this lifestyle and catering to other people, you know? I’m not alone, but I feel really lonely.” 

Sunoo hums with sympathy. “I wish I could see you everyday.”

“You’d get sick of me.”

He laughs. “No I wouldn’t. But don’t tell anyone that.” 

“He took me to dinner last night, you know?”

“Sunghoon?”

“Mhm. There’s a Spanish place not far from my place. We looked at it for a company event in the summertime.”

“Like a food tasting?”

“Yeah, exactly that. Sunghoon ordered all of the menu, practically. We talked to the manager about it because they knew we were coming in, but he told me to order anything that looked good.”

“How much did you eat?”

“Too much, Sun. Sunghoon kept telling me not to worry about the price because it’s expensive anyway. I’m pretty sure Sunghoon might be the manager’s new favorite person.” 

“That sounds like a date.” 

You click your tongue. “I don’t know. Probably not. He held my chair out for me.”

“That was a date.”

“Sure. We had a few of their signature cocktails, too. Really good. Top shelf kind of stuff. We need to finalize their menu before I leave for good.”

Sunoo chuckles from the other end of the line. “You are so in denial.”

“Shut up. Did you eat breakfast yet?”

“I’m actually walking downstairs now. Riki’s up early because he has class and then dance practice later this evening.”

“Is that your sister?” A deeper voice flows through your ears.

“Hey, Riki. How are your classes and practice?”

“I resist the urge to fall asleep on my desk,” he says, which makes you laugh. “Dance is great. We’ve got a showcase in Seoul in a few weeks. You should come!”

“I’d love to. Text me the details, yeah?”

“Bring whoever. There’s gonna be a few scouts, but it’s not a huge thing.”

“I’ll be there.” 

“You two are disgustingly supportive of each other,” Sunoo says.

“Don’t act like you don’t worry about her,” Riki says, no doubt teasing Sunoo while the latter rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m kind of stuck with her as a sister, so I have to.”

You laugh. “Don’t lie. You love me.”

“Debatable.”

You smile when you hang up the phone.

***

Yang Jungwon is fifteen minutes early.

You see him sitting in the lobby of your floor by the time you step out of your office to refill your water bottle before the interview. He’s got a piece of paper in his hands and he looks like he’s reading over the material thoroughly. Jungwon sits with a briefcase by his feet and dresses like he might as well be a business partner of Sunghoon’s. The secretary lets you know he’s waiting for the interview and you’re more than pleased to know he hasn’t arrived last minute. 

Sunghoon is nowhere to be found, either. Even though each candidate has no inclination as to who they’ll be working with, you know Sunghoon’s curiosity will get the better of him. You’ve scheduled a meeting with a client out of the office and he won’t come back until well into the day.

An unfamiliar feeling settles in your chest when you look at him. He looks the way you did before you were hired. Nervous, ambitious, and hopeful. Looking at him makes you think about when you arrived at the interview much earlier than the set time and how you tried to push down your anxiety to appear more sure of yourself. 

The years seem to have flown by the more you focus on work. A strange sense of nostalgia and longing lurks within you as you watch Jungwon from your office. Facing the fact that you will be replaced in a month feels oddly daunting. By the time you approach him, he stands up and bows respectfully. 

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” he says, putting the stray paper away. “I appreciate your time and consideration.”

“Thank you for coming. Let’s talk inside my office.” 

He follows you inside and takes a seat in front of your desk when you beckon him to feel comfortable. It feels strange to be on this side of the interview; you kept a low profile during your first few years as an assistant until working with Sunghoon was as easy as counting to three. Becoming an invaluable asset and accumulating the fine details of how this company operates and the business it does feels like you’re far too integrated to leave. But you’ve always been Sunghoon’s right hand and nothing more. 

Still, facing the reality that you’re parting ways with this job feels unnatural. 

“How are you, Jungwon?”

“I’m great, actually.” He puts the briefcase on the ground and smoothes over his pants. “I’m really looking forward to our conversation.” 

“Thanks for coming in on a Tuesday morning.”

“It’s my pleasure. I’m sure you have more pressing matters.” You hum. Hearing corporate speak from such a young man reminds you of the person you were six years ago.

“Tell me about yourself.”

He gulps. “I’ve just graduated college and have always held an interest in being in management. I wasn’t sure what field I wanted to go into, but Seoul has so many great opportunities I was afforded to discover during my time at university.” Jungwon takes a deep breath and twiddles his thumbs. 

“Throughout my years at internships, venture capitalism caught my interest the most. It was fun, if I may speak candidly. I extended my internship throughout the summer before I graduated and liked being part of a team that sets up success for clients I believe in.” He watches you look down at his resume sitting atop your desk. 

“You have great experience and your university courses align with what we do here.”

“I tailored my education during my last year of university because I know this is what I want to do for the foreseeable future. I want to learn from the best and become great at what I do without losing my head.”

You hum. “This job can get hectic, don’t you think?” 

“I think any job can get that way, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it. My days were long and difficult, but I loved getting the experience to solve problems and make things happen for businesses. I enjoyed being part of it, even if I only contributed a small portion.”

Jungwon talks like he’s got the entire world ahead of him. It makes you wish you could see yourself like that too.

“Frankly speaking, this assistant position is much more than filing papers and running errands. There will be elements of that from time to time, but the person you’ll be working under likes to see how well his assistant can juggle the fine details before anything else.” 

“I’m not held to a position,” Jungwon says with a smile. “I really like learning from other people and the best way to do it is to surround myself in an environment that teaches me. Even if I’m getting dry cleaning one day and sitting in on meetings the next, I’d like to think all of those tasks will lead me to become great at my job.”

“It’s a stepping stone, for sure. As you know, Park Inc. is the biggest venture capitalist firm in Asia and there is little room for error. How do you approach obstacles?”

“There’s no getting around bad days or lapse of judgment. We all make mistakes and it’s up to us to learn from them. I would consider myself somebody who sees the big picture for what it is. I’m also somebody who needs to focus twice as hard when it comes to the fine details and executing steps before we reach the end goal. It’s hard, especially when I’m in the beginning stages of my career, but I have the determination and ambition to succeed.” 

Jungwon gives you near perfect answers when you ask him questions. Sunghoon thrives off of organization and somebody who can keep up with his routine. It’s hard to separate who you are with this job because you’re the longest assistant Sunghoon has ever had, and you think that counts for something. 

A part of you looks at Jungwon like he’s a younger version of you. It’s as if you’re peering into your past; the concept of being incredibly motivated to jumpstart his career makes you wonder where your wide-eyed ambition went. His big, round eyes look at you with curiosity and his body language shows eagerness. You ponder on all the reasons why you’re giving your job up. You don’t find this position fulfilling anymore. This everyday routine doesn’t make you happy like it used to. 

There’s hesitance in leaving the company you’ve worked for during your six years living by yourself. It was lonely, at first, with the knowledge that you’d be leaving your family and grade friends behind. Your parents and Sunoo helped you pack your belongings, but it seemed like he was the only one genuinely emotional about the move. While he swayed anywhere between excited for your next chapter and sad that you’d be far away, your parents seemed eager to get you out of the house. 

Calls came few and in between. They’d driven you in a U-Haul truck with everything you owned and helped put the boxes in your apartment, but that was that. They had called a couple of times to make sure you were settled in because your relatives and neighbors had asked about it. But other than that, it seemed like most of their focus shifted onto Sunoo. 

It wasn’t surprising, either. The three of you weren’t that close as you grew up. Getting used to secondhand treatment and the absence of parenthood was easier when you eventually left your hometown. Long gone were the days where you’d drive past your high school and relive memories of being forgotten at pickup or after extracurriculars. The impending doom of loneliness that came with moving to a brand new city without knowing a single soul was better than living with two people who were supposed to love you, but didn’t. 

Having a set routine and focusing your attention on Sunghoon was a big reason as to why your adjustment wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be. Your time was spent worrying about getting the hang of your job, and eventually catering to his needs. There wasn’t any time in your day to think about how lonely you were sitting in your apartment every weekend while everyone on your social feed was out of their house. 

Befriending your neighbors and people you’ve met through work was your saving grace once the loneliness started to make its presence known. By this time, you knew Sunghoon like the back of your hand and work wasn’t keeping you from sleeping. You didn’t have to worry about impressing him because you’d been working under him long enough to know what he needed and how he operated. All that was left was you and your thoughts alone. Thinking about your life apart from your career was scary. 

But even with new challenges and shortcomings, you’ve grown over the last few years. You’re not the timid person you were when you lived with your parents. This job has forced you to come out of your shell and broaden your worldview, inevitably teaching you how to become a more confident person. This job is filled with entitled men who know nothing of struggle, and being able to move past harsh criticisms and sexist behavior taught you what it meant to be a stronger person. 

It feels bittersweet to hear Jungwon talk about why he wants your job so much. You don’t feel as excited to come into the office and contribute to your company like you all those years ago. It’s become monotonous and predictable. You know Sunghoon’s life better than you know your own. You know his medical history (in case of an emergency), you’ve gotten to know his immediate and distant family (because his entire family is in the venture capitalist business), and you’ve spent enough time with Sunghoon to get to know his quirks and habits. It’s time to let this phase of your life pass.

Who are you when you’re not his assistant? You’re having trouble figuring that out.  

“Thank you for your honesty and for your time,” you tell Jungwon earnestly. He stands when you do and bows politely. 

“If I may be honest once more,” Jungwon begins, “this is the best interview I’ve ever had.” 

That makes you stop in your tracks. “Really?” 

He nods. “I don’t mean to come off like I’m trying to sway you, or anything. I know how competitive this business is. But I appreciated how easy it was to talk to you and I enjoyed having a conversation instead of listing all of my strengths and weaknesses over and over again. 

“It’s easy to get lost in the stress of this job. It sounds like you really care about what you do. I know we don’t know each other, but I get the feeling you’ve seen a thing or two and learned from it. Maybe this is crossing a line. I don't know. But honestly, it felt like I was talking to an older version of me, in a sense? So, yeah, I loved our interview.” 

“Thank you, Jungwon.” You try to remain neutral and keep your mouth shut to prevent yourself from being too honest with a candidate. “I had a wonderful time with you, too. Let me walk you to the elevator.” He follows behind you to the silver doors and smiles politely at you before stepping inside. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m happy to have met you.” 

The elevator doors close. Sunghoon, who apparently made his way back into his office without letting Jungwon see, is sitting at his desk and looking at his computer. It takes a few strides before you round the corner and knock on his door. Sunghoon beckons for you to come in. 

“How’d it go with the candidate? Did you lay it on thick or keep it casual? Jaeyun was betting on the former, but I think otherwise.”

You’re grateful that his office faces yours and cannot be seen from the floor lobby. Sunghoon looks at you in concern when your bottom lip starts to wobble as you walk closer to him, and you can barely see a thing when tears start to gather in your waterline. 

“Baby?” Sunghoon says gently. “Are you okay?” 

That goddamn term of endearment makes the dam burst. 

It doesn’t help that you don’t cry in front of people. Not ever. There is a mix of embarrassment and shame stirring in your chest when Sunghoon looks at you as your tears fall one after the other. It keeps you standing where you are and unable to move your feet to walk any closer to him. Sunghoon springs up from his chair and stands in front of you within three steps. He encircles his arms around your body and pulls you into his chest like he’s done it a million times before, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. 

You keep your voice and sniffles low, but you let the tears freefall. It feels like you’re being sheltered and comforted at the same time. You can’t help but think how odd and uncomfortable it feels to be held like this after years of healing on your own. You couldn’t name the last time you’ve leaned on somebody else for support when you’ve felt like crying. And as unfamiliar as this feeling is, you don’t want to run away from it. 

Sunghoon doesn’t speak, either. He doesn’t do or say anything except rubbing your upper back with his palm in an attempt to soothe you. You don’t see his furrowed eyebrows or feel how his throat clenches at the sound of you sniffling against him. He doesn’t care if his clothes dampen with your tears, nor does he care if he has to stand like this for hours just to get you to stop crying. 

It feels so good to let yourself depend on him. You allow your head to fall onto his chest and remain there until your cries subside. Sunghoon keeps you between his arms and moves his free hand to the back of your head like he’s trying to tuck you further into him. It feels nice to be comforted like this, especially when you’ve been pretending you’ve been perfectly fine all along. 

“What happened?” Sunghoon asks delicately. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I don’t like seeing you cry.” 

“I met with Jungwon.” You sniffle and then hiccup. 

“Yeah? Was the interview that bad?” You shake your head. 

“N-No. The opposite.” 

“But you’re in tears, love.” 

You hiccup again. “I used to be ambitious and passionate. I used to look forward to the future. Jungwon told me this was the best interview he’s ever had and I can’t remember the last time somebody believed in me.” 

“Oh, love.” Sunghoon cups your jawline and gently tilts your head upwards to look at him. “You’re still ambitious and passionate. That side of you is still there, but it’s time for a change and you know it.” He kisses your forehead. “There’s so much to admire about you. I knew I wanted you to be my assistant when I knew how eager you were to learn and experience life. Do you remember the first time we met?” 

You nod. “You were obsessed with that stupid orange tie.” 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I was, wasn’t I? Ditching it was the second best decision I made.”

“What was the first?” Sunghoon smoothes over your cheeks with his thumbs. 

“Hiring you. I like being around you, and I like who I’ve become with you by my side. Jungwon isn’t the only person who believes in you, dove. I do, too.” 

You let out another choked sob, not caring how your mascara is probably running down your cheeks or how buffy your face has gotten. Something about the way he looks at you while he says the most kind and caring things stirs a part of you that yearns for validation and acceptance. For years now, you’ve learned to keep yourself in check and to become as independent as possible to avoid being disappointed by other people. But Sunghoon looks at you like he’d be there for you in a heartbeat. 

His pet names don’t soften the blow to your heart, either. You’ve never been keen on nicknames in the first place. Terms of endearment sounded appealing, but only in television and books. Hearing Sunghoon talk to you like you’re somebody he cares about makes you realize just how much you care for him, too.

You’ve fallen for Sunghoon, but have been keeping this realization locked away in fear of being rejected. You can handle rejection and unrequited love, but the weight of knowing you’d need to do the work in order to move on is what scares you. You’ve never felt so intensely about someone before. This is the first time you could ever say you’ve fallen in love with somebody, and you can’t help but think Sunoo was right all along. 

Is this what it feels like to be in love? To yearn for somebody so much that you’d do anything to keep them within your grasp? Is love meant to feel like you’re flying high above the clouds and afraid that you’ll have to fly closer to the ground if Sunghoon doesn't love you back? Is this what others feel when they speak of being on cloud nine? 

“I…” 

Sunghoon locks his eyes with yours. He doesn’t pressure you to speak. The words I love you are sitting at the tip of your tongue, but you can’t seem to get yourself to say it just yet. It doesn’t feel right with all of these insecurities floating around in your head. You don’t want to be rejected and still have to see him after today. 

“I’m grateful for you,” is what you settle on. “Thank you for believing in me that day.” 

Sunghoon kisses your nose. You hate that you love the way his lips tickle and you loathe the way your heart rate picks up. 

“I think we should go to lunch and forget about work for an hour or two. What do you say? You’ll be proud to know I’ve taken care of all my meetings and outstanding priorities.” 

“I’d like that.” 

You’re honest with him, too. You want to be selfish and continue spending time with him while your heart remains fragile. 

He lets you. 

***

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please adjust your settings if I couldn’t tag you!

[kgetou]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ how they eat you out ! whc ⭑.ᐟ

warnings: mdni, +.18, sm.ut, men starving for puss.y, face.sitting, cun.niling.us, fem! reader, all the characters are over 18, fem dominating, sub!beomseok, overstimulation, cum eating, o.ral f! receiving, degradation (seongje), english isn’t my first language.

characters: suho, sieun, beomseok, parku, gotak, seongje.

ahn suho

↳

let's be honest, this man loves your ass so much, he just can't live without it. So you're not going to be surprised when one day he just asks, "can you sit on my face?" and because you love your boyfriend so much, you did it.

he eats pussy like he's thirsty or hungry all the time (canon), sucking and licking like a needy man. all you need to know is he encourages you to ride his face so he can "eat" properly.

you were on top of him, moving your hips, riding his face. his hands were on your tights, bouncing you with them.while you grab his black hair between your fingers, you use him.

when your knees fail and you sit completely with your whole weight, instead of worrying. he grabs your hips and keeps you there.

and, oh my god, he loves to eat your pussy as if it is his favorite food. he loves it.

he just moans at the thought of your pussy in his face; now imagine while you're actually sitting on it.

this man is a hungry man, and he loves to eat your pussy while you use him, and believe me. when you cum hard in his face, he's going to drink it all. <3

yeon sieun

↳

one day he was just stressed (something that happened really often because he's #1 in the class). he was so stressed that when he entered his room after coming from the academy and you were there immediately, he opened your legs just to suck your clit. </3

we can't judge; that day somebody bothered him, he almost exploded, but instead, he just distressed between your legs.

slurping, sucking, and wriggling his tongue on your clit. his hands were squeezing your thighs tightly, something that he loves to do when he eats you out. while your legs were squeezing his head.

and when you open your glassy eyes, you can see him eating at your folds with his eyes closed and frowning eyebrows like he was mad, and you can even see his jaw moving in a dirty way while he's eating you.

he just loves to slurp, suck your clit, and spread your folds with his tongue; just let him do it when he's stressed because when you cum in his tongue, he's going to need some attention between his legs. <3

oh beomseok

↳

he was just there, sitting on his knees. when he looked at you with his pretty eyes, you didn't hesitate to get close.

but now he's between your legs, in the same position as he was, but he was eating you out. his eyes close while you grab his hair with your fingers to pull him deeper. sucking your clit while eating messily.

his hands around your thighs, he moans directly on your clit. when you force his head to go deeper. he loves it, and you can see it on his face.

he didn't even remove his glasses, so when you see that they were foggy and disturbing you to use his face as your wish, you remove them, making him look at you.

he tried to say sorry, but you just shut him up with your folds on his lips, making him moan and squeeze your tights until it leave marks.

he just loves when you use him like this; he feels useful. So when you cum on his tongue, he makes sure to clean it entirely to make you congrats him. <3

parku (park hu-min)

↳

something about parku it’s that he loves more fuck you from behind.

he just said that he wanted to feel all the of the problems that the boys have; but he get addicted fucking your ass.

but when it’s about eating pussy, he just love spread your legs and dive into it.

and when i say dive into it, it’s dive into it.

he love licking it, try to put his tongue inside your folds, rub his nose aggressively with your clit; and everything while he press your ass.

he just love it, don’t blame him. blame him when he put his fingers inside of you while caressing your clit with his tongue and his other hand middle finger rubbing your butthole.

he’s amazed by the way you sound, the more you moan the more he’s going to introduce his middle finger in your ass.

he loves your ass i said?. so when you find yourself cuming hard with two fingers in your pussy, one inside your butthole and his tongue on your clit, he’s going to slurp it all, even your butthole.<3

gotak (go hyun tak)

↳

This man is a needy man. He needs your pussy in his face, but also your lips around his cock.

imagine he comeback tired of the training at the basketball club. when he takes a shower and see you on his shirt with nothing less than a pair of panties.

he’s done. and also, you are done.

because he’s going to ask you like the gentleman he is: to sit on his face and give him a blow job while you ride it. he forces you to move your ass, while he hears your gags sounds from his cock entering in your throat.

he likes to move his hips to get more deeper in your throat. he doesn’t concern about it certainly. because, he is training your throat for it. and he believe that his girl knows how to take it all.

when he fucks your mouth more rapidly, you know he’s about to come, but he also hug your hips, pressing his face in your pussy, moaning, licking and slurping your clit and folds.

when you cum on his face, he also cum in your mouth, filling that pretty sore (now) throat<3

keum seongje

↳

something about this mf is that he just love taking the control. and how dare you not to follow his commands…you know how you can end if you don’t do it.

so when he asked you nicely to arch your back and raise your butt. you did it.

but you didn’t expect that his tongue will explore all your pussy with a hungry needy actions. he was just amazed by your slickly pussy.

sometimes he stopped from licking it, only to slap it, calling you his slut and emphasizing how wet you are only with his mouth.

he love the sounds you make while he teases your clit with his tongue, while your hole fill with his fingers. you can see his smile on your mind, even though you weren’t watching him.

but he loves it, and he loves it even more when he separate his lips a little bit away from your pussy, and your ass went directly (almost like a tick) backward to find his mouth again.

he’s not going to deny your orgasm, you were his pretty little slut, now, let it go on his mouth, he’s going to drink it all and not stopping until you squirt his face

after all he wanted to get his face all wet just because of you<3

the request was made by @daughterof-aphrodit who asked for this when i already got the draft ready.

thank you for requesting.<3

like to see more of this, reblog if you think it’s worthy.

i wrote this at 1:30 am, sorry if it doesn’t make sense.

[fwaist]

CAMP COUNSELOR!PATRICK HEADCANONS

warnings: semi-explicit sexual content (dry humping, clothed orgasms, grinding, heavy making out, public risk of being caught), sexual tension in a workplace/camp setting, emotionally intense relationship, themes of longing, emotional repression, fear of abandonment, bittersweet separation, post-summer heartbreak, crying during/after intimacy, and unresolved romantic angst.

tags: @destinedtobegigi, @bambiangels, @pittsick, @talsorchard, @angeldoll1e, @itachisank, @tennisprincess, @lexiiscorect, @esotericgirlwannabe, @lovefaist, @won-every-lottery, @zionna

notes: hi lovelies! if you’d like to see more of camp counselor!patrick, i’ve created a c.ai bot of him (which actually inspired the making of these headcanons, fun fact). you can talk to him here :)

⟡ patrick kissed you for the first time in the craft shed, mid-storm, with your walkies hissing static in the background and the kids finally asleep in their sleeping bags like fragile bombs. it was supposed to be a quick, stupid thing—just to get the tension out. you grabbed his shirt. he pressed you against the wall like he’d been waiting weeks for permission. his hands didn’t even move at first, just held your face like he needed to memorize it. you kissed like you hated each other for how badly you wanted it. and when he pulled back, breathing hard, he whispered “you’re killin’ me, you know that?” and you hated how soft it made you feel. like maybe you wanted to kill him. or maybe you didn’t want anyone else touching you like that ever again.

⟡ you never fully fuck. the risk is too high. the kids are too close. your jobs matter too much. but that just makes everything worse—or maybe better. it’s all breathless makeouts in dark corners of the mess hall. his hand up your camp shirt during movie night in the rec lodge. dry humping behind the canoe racks while you’re both supposed to be organizing life jackets. he gets off on how quiet you try to be—his hand over your mouth, his teeth grazing your shoulder, both of you rocking together in the dark like you might combust if you stopped. sometimes you come just from grinding, from the thick press of him between your legs and the frantic rhythm and the way he tells you “fuck, you’re shaking—i’ve got you, you’re okay, keep going.” it’s obscene how good he is at making it feel like enough.

⟡ patrick isn’t supposed to like you. not someone who lives by laminated schedules and has a spreadsheet for sunscreen reapplication. but god, he’s addicted to you. you make the whole camp run like a machine and still find time to tie friendship bracelets with your girls before bed, or sneak extra marshmallows to the picky eater in your cabin. he watches you from across the field like a boy in love with the sun. sits with his first-graders during campfire night but only half-listens, eyes flicking to you as you shush your cabin, tuck stray curls behind your ears, bite your lip when someone sings off-key. you’re so put-together. so in control. and he wants to ruin that. wants to hear your breath hitch when he kisses your neck behind the arts building. wants to see your clipboard hit the ground because his hand’s down your shorts again. wants you to lose control—for him.

⟡ it starts as lust. of course it does. you roll your eyes at his jokes and mutter under your breath when he’s late to flagpole duty again—but every argument ends with him leaning in too close, smirking like he knows. and maybe he does. the way you start lingering near his cabin at night. the way you wear his hoodie one day “by accident” and don’t give it back. but somewhere between shared debriefs and early-morning setup shifts, it shifts. he starts bringing you snacks. starts leaving notes in your fanny pack like: you forgot your smile. i found it. -p or i stole you a popsicle. come find me. and you do. every time. it’s not just adrenaline anymore. it’s affection. familiarity. you start to know each other’s footsteps. moods. soft spots. he lets you see his softness without irony. and that terrifies you.

⟡ the campers love him. of course they do. he’s barefoot half the time, sunburned, trailing kids like a one-man parade. makes fart jokes. pretends to be a swamp monster. teaches them how to fish using gummy worms. they call him “coach p” even though you don’t have sports teams. and you hate how good he is at this. how easily he connects. how quickly kids go from sobbing to giggling with one dumb face or story. you run a tighter ship. you enforce quiet hours, give the best hugs, braid hair and bandage knees and write postcards to homesick girls so they feel like they matter. you’re the safe one. he’s the fun one. opposites. and somehow, it works. he teases you about being the “camp mom,” but you catch him watching you across the playground like he’s already imagining you holding his kid one day. he doesn’t say that out loud. but you feel it.

⟡ after lights out, he sneaks into your cabin through the back. not every night. but enough that you start sleeping on the left side of the cot automatically. you kiss with the urgency of people who might get caught. thighs tangled. teeth clashing. breath stolen in pieces. sometimes he just lays there, hand under your shirt, fingers slow on your ribs like he’s trying to map you. he talks softer here. asks about your family. your old job. why you came to camp in the first place. “what are you running from?” he asks once, into your shoulder. you pretend you didn’t hear him. you’re not ready to answer that. and he doesn’t push. just kisses the curve of your neck and pulls you closer.

⟡ dry humping with him isn’t a compromise. it’s a sickness. you’re both fully clothed, rutting against each other like desperate teenagers—panting, whispering, biting back moans in the dark. he grinds down hard, cock thick and leaking through his boxers, and you clutch at him like it hurts to be touched. your thighs get sticky. your shirt gets pulled halfway up. sometimes you come in your underwear with him barely touching you—just from how intense he gets. how he presses his forehead to yours and murmurs “you’re so wet like this—jesus, baby, you gonna come for me just like that?” and you do. and you can’t even feel embarrassed, because he’s coming too, hips jerking, cock twitching against your thigh like he’s been aching for you all day. because he has.

⟡ sometimes, after cleanup duty, he corners you in the kitchen. flicks off the light. lifts you onto the counter and stands between your knees like he owns the space. kisses you so slowly it almost hurts. tongue sliding lazy and wet against yours. hands tracing the shape of your waist like he’s not in a rush for once. “you’re the only reason i get through the day sometimes,” he admits into your mouth. and you don’t know how to answer. so you just pull him closer. and kiss him like you believe it.

⟡ the sneaking around gets easier. muscle memory. you both know which counselors leave which patrols and when. which spots stay dark the longest. you pass each other little smirks during meals, casual touches that mean meet me later. and it’s exciting. addicting. it feels like a secret universe just for the two of you—where your rules don’t apply and his bad habits don’t scare you and everything in the world stops mattering for a little while. until the sun comes up. until the whistles blow. until you’re back in your polos, pretending nothing happened, pretending you don’t miss his weight behind you.

⟡ patrick makes you laugh in the middle of moments you’re trying to be serious. mid-counselor meeting while you’re trying to propose a new bug spray schedule, he leans over and whispers “you’ve got a power complex and i support it.” you shove him. he grins like a child. but later, he shows up to your bug spray training and helps the kids fill out their logs. even makes a joke about mosquitos being “nature’s way of checking if you’re paying attention.” he teases you like you’re a joke. but treats you like a miracle. you hate it. you love it. you don’t know which is worse.

⟡ one night, you’re both out late walking a homesick camper back to their bunk. the kid holds your hand. patrick holds a flashlight. and when the kid falls asleep, curled between their stuffed animal and your knee, you both sit there. in silence. until patrick says, “i think i could do this. like—this. forever.” and you look at him. really look. not the barefoot troublemaker or the secret hookup or the guy who knows how to kiss your neck just right. just him. raw. tired. maybe a little afraid. “me too,” you whisper. and it feels dangerous. it feels real. it feels like the kind of thing you don’t come back from.

⟡ patrick never wears shoes. like, ever. he says it’s a “grounding practice,” but you’re 90% sure he just hates laces. his feet are perpetually dirty, half-burnt from the blacktop, always scratched up from god knows what—sticks, rocks, one infamous lego in the arts cabin. you make fun of him for it constantly. he calls you “foot-shamer general” and bows dramatically whenever you scold him. but then he gets a splinter and limps around for half a day and you end up crouched in the nurse’s station, tweezers in hand, while he pouts and calls you “florence fuckin’ nightingale.” you don’t smile. not out loud. but when you rub ointment into his arch, he exhales like your hands are made of fire.

⟡ patrick is always snacking. like constantly. he’s the kind of guy who has sunflower seed shells in every pocket, and a crushed granola bar melted into the lining of his backpack. once you caught him eating an entire packet of mini Oreos behind the cabins at 9am. when you stared at him, horrified, he just grinned and said, “i’m on the patrick plan: five meals, two breakdowns, and a little sugar every hour.” and it would be ridiculous—should be ridiculous—but then he starts bringing you snacks. peanut butter crackers when you skip lunch. little cups of gatorade when you look tired. he never says why. just hands it to you and walks away.

⟡ you’ve never seen anyone make kids laugh like he does. he’ll trip over a tree root, fall into a mud puddle, and still turn it into a game. his group is always in chaos—missing shoes, crooked name tags, one kid trying to eat a bug—but they worship him. like he hung the moon. and it drives you insane. because he lets them get away with everything. but he also remembers all their birthdays. carries bug spray for the ones with sensitive skin. draws secret tattoos on their wrists with marker so they can feel brave during nature hikes. you can’t even hate him for it. because he’s good. stupidly good. in a way that makes you ache.

⟡ you both learn each other’s bodies like a survival skill. where he likes to be scratched. the spot on your inner thigh that makes your hips twitch. how to kiss without leaving marks. how to slide hands under shirts without rustling too much fabric. he knows how to undo your bra with one hand. you know how to straddle his lap without messing up your bunk. he’s a master at unbuttoning your shorts just enough to slip his hand in, fingers warm and rough and so good while he kisses you slow and deep like there’s no one else on the planet. and when you come, gasping into his neck, he holds you there. murmurs your name like it’s something precious.

⟡ sometimes, when you’re doing head counts, he’ll sneak up behind you and whisper the wrong number just to mess with you. “twenty-four, baby. we lost one. check the lake.” you threaten to kill him. every time. but he’s already laughing, ducking away, and god—god—you love him. even when you hate him. maybe especially when you hate him. it’s easier than saying the real thing. than admitting it’s not just a fling. not just camp hormones. it’s him. it’s always him.

⟡ on a hot july night, the two of you end up swimming in the lake after hours. no lights. no one watching. just skin on skin and silence. you float on your back. he watches you like you’re something rare. precious. “you ever think about next year?” he asks. and you hate the question. because of course you have. and of course you haven’t. and everything feels too fragile to say out loud. so you just splash water in his face and tell him to race you to the dock. he lets you win. barely.

⟡ he knows when you’re stressed. doesn’t ask. doesn’t prod. just finds you. hands you a popsicle. leads you to the dock. doesn’t say a word until your breathing slows. then he leans in and says something so stupid—so insufferably funny—you end up wheezing. head in your hands. tears in your eyes. and he’s just sitting there watching you, face soft with something dangerous. something that sounds a lot like forever.

⟡ there’s a spot behind the camp kitchen where the staff sometimes sneak cigarettes. you don’t smoke. he does. but you start meeting him there anyway. sometimes he just presses you into the wall, kisses you until your lips are raw. sometimes he just talks. tells you stories about foster homes, old bands he used to love, that one time he thought he could live in his car. you listen. every time. and when he exhales smoke into the air and mutters “i don’t think i’ve ever felt safe like this,” you don’t say anything. you just hold his hand. and hope it’s enough.

⟡ patrick’s hoodie smells like sunscreen and grass and cedarwood soap. you wear it more than he does. he pretends not to notice. but one night, you give it back. folded. clean. and he looks at you like you just ended something. you can’t explain why it hurts so much. but later, when he shows up at your cabin, he’s wearing it. and when he kisses you, it’s deeper than usual. slower. like he’s begging you not to leave first.

⟡ the kids figure it out way before either of you admit anything. it starts small. one of your campers catches you smiling at patrick during breakfast lineup and immediately starts whispering about it like it’s breaking news. another swears they saw him looking at you during talent show night with “googly eyes.” suddenly there are questions. “do you like coach p?” “do you think he likes you back?” “if you got married would we get invited??” you deny it. every time. cool. calm. collected. until one of the boys from his cabin asks patrick, dead serious: “if you kiss miss [your name], do you have to sign a form or something?” and he chokes on his juice box.

⟡ your campers start acting weird about it. suddenly you’re being paired with him for every buddy activity. he’s always the first one they vote to sit with you during meals. one of the girls makes a beaded necklace with both your initials and gives it to you, just beaming. “it’s for luck.” you wear it under your shirt. patrick finds it later when he’s got his hands up your back, and you feel him stop. go still. “this mine?” he murmurs. and when you nod, he presses his mouth to your collarbone like a thank you.

⟡ the final week is crushing. your schedule’s full of extra activities and farewell events and everyone’s overtired and overstimulated—but it’s not just exhaustion. it’s grief. because every day is a countdown now. every shared glance with patrick. every lunch tray passed. every secret kiss behind the maintenance shed. every time he passes you the walkie with his fingers brushing yours. it’s all starting to feel like goodbye.

⟡ you and patrick start holding onto each other longer at night. not talking. not even kissing sometimes. just curled up together in your bunk, breathing in sync. he strokes your spine with the back of his fingers and whispers things you’re not sure you’re meant to hear. “wish i met you earlier.” “you feel like home, you know that?” and worst of all: “you think we’ll be like…okay, after?” you don’t answer. you just bury your face in his neck. pretend time doesn’t exist.

⟡ the last night of camp, your kids do skits and cry and give each other bracelets and someone plays “riptide” on ukulele again even though no one asked. patrick’s sitting on the bench behind your group, legs spread, arms around two of his boys who are both pretending they’re not crying. you catch his eye. he mouths: “you okay?” and it breaks you. because no. you’re not. but you nod anyway.

⟡ you sneak away after lights-out. meet him down by the docks. it’s chilly. the lake’s glass. he’s already sitting at the edge, feet in the water, hoodie up, face unreadable. when you sit beside him, he doesn’t say anything. just leans over, head on your shoulder. “can we not talk?” he asks. “just…be here?” and you stay there until sunrise. neither of you say a word.

⟡ the kids give you goodbye letters. glitter pens. tissue flowers. one of them writes “i hope you and coach p get married. he looks at you like my dad looks at my mom in old photos.” you read it in the storage closet. alone. and cry so hard you choke.

⟡ patrick doesn’t do goodbyes well. he makes jokes. high-fives. spins a camper over his shoulder and calls it a “final swirl.” but you can tell he’s unraveling. later, after dinner, he corners you behind the lodge. “i don’t know how to not see you tomorrow,” he says. voice thin. “i don’t know how to wake up and not look for your dumb clipboard and your ponytail and your bossy little voice telling me to shut up and act right.” and you kiss him before he can finish. slow. quiet. ruined.

⟡ the morning everyone leaves, it’s chaos. suitcases. hugs. snot. sobbing campers. last photos. your hands are shaking. his too. he loads up the last van, then just…stands there. doesn’t even look at you at first. just wipes his mouth like he’s trying to pull it together. “don’t forget me,” he says. and it’s not fair. it’s not fair. because you won’t. not in a million years.

⟡ after the buses are gone, you find something in your cubby. it’s his bandana. the red one he always wore tied around his neck or arm or forehead like a cartoon cowboy. it smells like cedar and lake water and sweat. there’s a note with it. not long. just:

for the next time you miss me more than you should.

—p.

⟡ the first week after camp, everything hurts. you fold laundry like you’re in mourning. you smell sunscreen and feel your stomach turn. you walk past a lake and almost cry. you check your phone and feel sick with how much you want his name to light up the screen. he texts you two days later: “Yo! My new job has air conditioning. It’s unnatural. Also I miss you. A lot. :( I’ll send gummy worms if you say it back.” you don’t answer for a while. then: “miss you more. send two packs.”

⟡ he does. in a padded envelope. no note. just worms. and you hold them to your chest like they’re flowers. like a promise. like a maybe.

[pedge-page]

hi mamas, lately I've been feeling a bit self-conscious when I look at recent photos of myself, and I've been going to the gym lately (pero like I be counterbalancing that with eating whatever I want :/) and think I look good in the mirror but when I see vids/photos of myself I just don't feel good. Could u possibly write post-pregnancy!reader and Joel (after either Sarah or Ellie's pregnancy) and its been months but she just doesn't feel or like herself but Joel is determined to change that perspective around ASAP!

Hi my love! I'm sorry you're feeling down about yourself, I go through those moments so frequently. Feeling dismorphia when you think you look ok and then see yourself in a different light. It ruins your whole mood. Thank you for asking this! I hope it brings a little comfort.

- - - -

Joel spent a lot of time helping you get lotioned up when you were pregnant. Even now, with Sarah out of your body and you can finally reach your toes, he still finds joy in lathering you with deep rubs as he spreads the cream over your skin. Almost obsessively. No inch of skin was left untreated. He'd even stick his tongue out as he glided a heavy palm up from your belly to tits, then back down your sides and over your hips.

you thought you'd had enough man handling when he goes to squirt 5 more pumps in one palm.

You put the heel of your foot on his forehead, stopping him from coming any closer. "Too much! I feel like I'm sweating in a oily pit."

He plants a kiss to your sole before nudging your heel down onto his shoulder. "Gotta keep your skin nourished. And hydrated. I missed a spot," He rubs his hands together greedily.

"No you didn't! You got it already!" the two of you wrestle slightly, his body draping over yours but your feet keeping his stomach at bay.

"Stop squirmin' and give me your tits!"

"You just wanna grope them and have make naked all the time!"

"...ok and your point?"

You giggle. Finally letting your guard down, he grins as he smoothes over your skin with the cream, lathering it up in hands to keep it warm. He made sure to knead it in well enough. And your body DID need it. Drinking it in like a fish out of water.

You breathe deeply, staring at the ceiling as his pays especially attention to the skin under your breasts, your stretched stomach and girthy hips, down to your cellulite and wobbly skinned thighs that used to make boys turn...

"Um..." your voice sounded meek, almost exceptionally unlike you when you're with Joel. "You're not doing it...because you think it will help my body bounce back... are you?"

He furrows his brows, not sure what you're talking about. The concern and fear in your face makes him feel a pain in his chest that he immediately needs to help settle.

"Because um... its not--my body--it's not. Gonna look the same as before... after her. Um so. This might not, make it much better. Um. I'll be saggy and wrinkly, and not very sexy anymore so--I get it if that's what you're trying to do--"

he sees the shine in your eyes as you lose your words, too embarrassed to look at him.

"No. Nononono. Baby, that's not at all what I'm doing here and don't you dare start thinking I'm gonna love you any different just cuz your body changing from our baby." He lies next to you and pulls you close, his hands clutching your to his lips. "You're still just a beautiful as the day I met, just as hot the second I put that little baby in you, and you're just as gorgeous after. I've got no intuition to change what your beautiful body is doing--performing fucking miracles. I just want you to feel safe, happy, cared for." he plants a wet kiss against your palm. "Want ya to stop going to bed with dry hands and feet. Scratching me up all Night."

You laugh with him, blinking away the tear that had built up. "That was a test. You passed."

"Mmmhmmm. Always testing me."

He spends the rest of the evening peppering your entire body in kisses while massaging your stress away. when you were finally snoring, he turned out the tight, but stayed where he was, his elbow propping his head up taking you all in.

Joel sits and watches you more than he wants to admit because he's so goddamn in love with you. You're so uncharacteristically peaceful now. Cuddled against your pillow, deep breaths rhythmically settling you. Soft and gentle as a newborn calf. Completely unlike the sassy snarky woman yelling at him all day. Even when you were berating him for dumb shit because your hormones were through the roof, he still loved you. You're the firey spitball of energy and emotions on a roller coaster that keeps him on his toes, reminding him that you're so full of personality and neediness and bursting with energy and he's the only one equipped to get it for you--the only one you'd ever feel so comfortable to ask --and demand and yell and bitch--and all of it makes him laugh on the inside because It's just you. So you. All you.

And he's amazed. Amazed every day when he gazes upon his little Sarah. A whole human your body grew inside you from start to finish. Amazed every day when he sees you rocking her in your arms, feeding her with your breastmilk. Its like your body never stops giving and giving. Amazed every day that you can move and groove, sway your hips and do cartwheels in the grass like you're a kid again, eager to make your little babygirl laugh heartily.

He doesn't care that your boobs are saggier than before. Doesn't care about the extra poof on your belly that won't go away. doesn't care about the stripes around your thighs and hips that are here to stay. When he sees those things, he doesn't see imperfections or negative changes. He sees you. A girlfriend then. A mother now. His wife always. And that brings joy to his soul, knowing you're sticking with him through it all.

He's already thinking about his tired, wrinkly, speckled worn old man hands rubbing you to sleep with lotion when the two of you are 90, so he can keep lookin at you just like he is now. and always has.

Amazed to call you mine.

[spcherryygirl]

─── 𓈒 𝓨EARNER!𝓙ASON TODD 𝓗EADCANONS ❪ SMUT ❫

𝓖𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 : ; smut headcanons for 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 who yearns. or, well, jason todd who’s ovulating from yearning for you more.

𝓒ONTENTS : : yearner!jason todd. smut. foreplay mentioned. praises. ooc(?). female!reader. smut. light smut. masturbation. sweet nothings. fluff. aftercare. both are of age !! gramatical errors. yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner

BOOKS — DC BOOK

REQUESTED ; SUGGESTED : : @yeoniverseee : I sent you the request on ig not here 😭 I'm sorry, boo. Okay. I need need need need need yearner! Jason Todd headcanons. Begging. Jason Todd in general is already a yearner so it's like ovulating! LMAO

ᨦ𓏲 ، ݃♟❜ : : my....... first...... time.......... writing........ smut............................... I'M NOT VERY GOOD AT THIS— I'M NOT GOOD AT IT AT AWLL SO I'M SOSOSOSO SORRY😓 also, these are HEADCANONS,, & how i see yearner!(ovulating)jason. so.. yeah.. inspired by my two works, most ardently ( mostly this. )& my love. ion think i will ever write smut again... i only wrote this bc my pretty girl was the one who requested 😭( luv u so much. ) sighs.. okay. it's fine. it's cool. && OVULATING!JASON IM SOBBING LDMAO. i made this TWO WEEKS AGO btw.. yeah.. that's how difficult writing smut is for me... so don't expect much. will do a fluff version.. bc no waayyy.. ... but i love-love hannie 😋 god my blog is not sfw anymore. & layout is once again, inspired by eli < 3

yearner!jason todd who touches you like you're a secret he never imagined he'd be able to keep. every time. slow hands. he's committing you to memory. like if he dies again, your skin will be the final thing he sees & feel

yearner!jason todd who gets hard just hearing you say his name. especially when it's soft. or needy. or when you whine while pulling him closer. like, like, it physically affects him. sometimes he bites his lip to keep himself from coming too fast.

yearner!jason todd who always, always, always, always kisses you first. regardless of how desperate he is, regardless of how quickly it begins. there's always a kiss. kisses. kiss. kisses. because to him, it isn't merely sex. it never is just sex. it's a "i missed you. i love you. i fear of losing you." kind.

yearner!jason todd who's a foreplay guy. like…like… he's making out with you for 30-ish minutes before he even considers doing anything else. thighs jammed between yours, his hands pressing up under your shirt, moaning( he moans. like come awn. ) into your mouth like you're air.

yearner!jason todd who wants to go down on you more than he wants to breathe. legit, legit, literally, literally his favorite thing. his hands on your thighs, his eyes on you, humming into you just to feel you squirm( 😛 ). he needs, needs, needs you falling apart because of him.

yearner!jason todd who never, ever, ever, hurries your clothes off. it's slow. like he's unwrapping something holy( but will be doing something unholy,, ). kissing each inch of skin as he takes them off you. whispering little sweet nothings ( well. yeah. shh. it is. he's sweet. very sweet. ) like "so fuckin' beautiful. god, ma, look at you."

yearner!jason todd cried during sex,,, he insisted it was sweat. you both knew otherwise. like. nu-uh. he came so hard he gagged on his own breath, then buried his face against your neck & sniffled. his voice cracked when he said "fuck. i didn't think i'd ever get this.” ( #yearner )

yearner!jason todd who whimpers. not grunts. whimpers.( dc mls, please normalize whimperer!jason. im tired of people saying he only scowls( who scowls during sex though… i don't read smut allat…… ), groans, grunts.. it's yearner!jason anw so yay!! okay i'll stop. ) when it's good. when he's close. when he's overwhelmed. his hips stutter & catch in breath & his hands hold on to you like you'll vanish.

yearner!jason todd who speaks so much in bed. i said it. & not cocky dirty stuff. like emotional crap. "i love you so much." "you feel like heaven." "you make me feel real." between gentle moans & curses & kissing your shoulder. ( like. i changed my mind. put a baby in me already. take that fucking condom awfff. )

yearner!jason todd when he bottoms( or well, let you take control..,, for a bit ), he stops. not because he needs to. because he needs to feel you. needs you to feel him. chest to chest. lips moving. arms trembling. "jesus christ━━baby━━i'm so fuckin' in love with you."

yearner!jason todd who gets overwhelmed. sometimes he freezes in mid sentence just to hug you. arms wrapped tight. face buried in your chest or your neck or your shoulder. grounding himself. because he still can't believe it's real. can't believe that you're real. can't believe that he's real.

yearner!jason todd who says thank you. after. during. every time. sometimes a whisper. sometimes a broken moan. "thank you. fuck. thank you. i needed this. i needed you."

yearner!jason todd who's top kinks are……….. praise, desperation, & you. he doesn’t care where, when, or how. as long as you’re there. tell him he’s good. tell him he’s perfect. he’ll lose it.

yearner!jason todd who he always finishes with his face pressed to you. in your neck. on your chest. buried between your thighs. somewhere soft. somewhere safe( yes, your cunt is very safe for him ) .

yearner!jason todd who loves watching you cum,, multiple times. because.,,, gets so hooked. hooked on your sounds, the movement of your body, the way you moan his name as if it's the only thing you know.

yearner!jason todd who's aftercare is crazy. insane. five stars. warm towels, water, checking your skin, running a bath, walking you. he won't stop unless you make him. he needs to know you're alright. that he didn't mess it up. that you're still his. “don’t think i know how to do this” my ass.

yearner!jason todd who'll l kiss each & every mark he made. each bruise, each scratch, each hickey. mumbling little sorrys( that you are convinced he doesn't mean.. but does at the same time.. like. yeah. ) & "mine" simultaneously. it's possessive, but also very, very, gentle.

yearner!jason todd who needs touch you even afterwards. clingy. messy. burried you onto his chest, or snuggling into your arms. hand in your shirt. leg between your legs. mumbled half asleep,,, "don't leave. not yet."

yearner!jason todd who masturbates to thinking about your first time all the time. not because it was sexy ( although it was ), but because it mattered. because you made a choice.& that choice is him. he'll stroke himself slow, moaning your name into his pillow, hips jerking like he's there. & kaboom. woah.

yearner!jason todd who's an absolute menace when you’re teasing. brushing against him, wearing something skimpy, straddling him casually. he gets shaky. hard. clenches his jaw. begs with his eyes before he even opens his mouth.

yearner!jason todd who's hands tremble when he's desperate. like when it's been too long, or when you kissed him too slowly, or when he's been missing you. he'll press his forehead against yours & plead, softly, "please angel, please let me have you."

yearner!jason todd who loves, loves, loves it when you ride him. looks up at you like he's beholding a god( or zimba, your choice ). mouth open. hands on your waist. little compliments with each bounce. "that's it. fuck━━look at you. you're everything."

yearner!jason todd who groans your name when he climaxes. no censorship( lol yeah no no ). loud, oh, loud, sometimes strangled. like it's being torn from his chest. like it's the last word he'll ever speak. like he's dying again but in a good way.

yearner!jason todd who keeps something of yours in his pillowcase( with permission, of course !! actually, you gave it to him ). for nights when he can’t have you. a shirt. a scarf… your underwear. bra. sweater. something that smells like you. he presses his face to it, wraps around it like he’s holding you. sometimes he’ll jerk off holding it. sometimes he just cries.

yearner!jason todd who needs it to be about love. even when it's complicated. even when he's complicated. even when you're complicated. he'll bite your shoulder & grab your hair & swear under his breath, but he always slows down to kiss you like you saved him. ( #needthat #isthisavailableonamazon #howaboutshein #maybelazada #orshoppee )

© spcherryygirl

[whambamsami]

private show pt.2

summary: what happens in the private showroom, stays in the private showroom...stripper!bucky pt.2

pt. 1

warnings: 18+ language, alcohol, almost smut! i promise theyre gonna fuck like bunnies in the next part of this lmao

note: if this doesnt flow super well im sorry, i didnt proofread and i did rush it a bit! i also dont totally understand how tag lists work so forgive me if i messed that up too haha, small chance i delete this and try to make it a bit cleaner!

taglist!: @sebastians-love @marianastudiesart @bowscale @staley83 @opheliabbarnes @hhyukasworld @unicornqueen05 @defn0tonyourleft <3

If the bouncer noticed your nerves, he didn’t let on. He just pulled back the plush red curtain and waved you in. 

You stepped inside before you could decide against it. 

The door shuts with a soft click.

The room smells like leather and cologne. Dim lights flicker warm over plush velvet seating. Your heart’s pounding in your chest. And you’re frozen where you stand.

Because in the center of the room, the man you’d seen on the stage was leaning against a pole, shirtless now, glistening faintly in the warm, low light. One silver chain resting against his collarbone, made of the same metal that made up his left arm. Tattoos dotted his chest and abs, thin black ink delicately drawing your eyes lower. A dangerous smirk on his lips. 

Bucky, they had said his name was.

Wonder if that was his real name.

“Oh.” You breathed.

His smirk turned wolfish. 

“So you’re the girlfriend,” he said, voice low and deep as he stepped closer. “Didn’t expect you to say yes.”

“...And if I had said no?” 

“Then I guess I would have had to come out there and ask in person,” he said, eyes raking over you. “And that could’ve gotten messy.”

You sputter just for a second before catching yourself.

“I- yeah. Thanks for the rescue. I really appreciate it.”

He tilted his head. “The rescue?” 

“Yeah. Saved me from my asshole boyfriend and his gross friends. I owe you.”

That made him pause for a beat. Considering. Calculating. 

Then he’s back in control like nothing happened.

“Is that what you think this is?” he smiled gently, stepping even closer.

You blink. “Um. Yeah? You got me away from Nick and made him look like a jackass. Not exactly a hard thing to do, but still-credit where credit’s due.”

Bucky laughed-low and rough, like gravel wrapped in velvet. He had a nice laugh, you thought. 

“Sweetheart”- and you do a great job of showing how that nickname doesn’t affect you one bit, you’re sure of it- “I didn’t save you. I picked you.”

Your stomach did something traitorous as he popped the champagne, and you didn’t miss the evil glint in his eyes when the head of the bottle was swallowed by frothy foam before he could capture it with the flutes. 

He handed you a glass. 

You needed it. 

“What does that mean?” 

He leaned in, his voice dropping to something that wrapped around your spine like silk.

“It means I saw you sitting out there, looking like you were five seconds from either crying or setting the place on fire, and I figured you could use a reminder that not everyone in the room is a complete asshole.” 

Great. More pity. Just what you needed.

But then he continued.

“And I could see your thighs squeezing together when you saw me. All the way from up on the stage.”

You let out a soft breath, surprised at how much that hit you.

But he wasn’t done. 

“It also means,” he added, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear, “I wasn’t gonna let some sweaty, insecure little prick keep looking at you like you were an object. Not when I know exactly how a woman should be treated, how you deserve to be treated.”

“Wow,” you breathe, almost to yourself, “you’re like… dangerously good at this.”

He grins. Like he had you right where he wanted you.

And suddenly the room around you felt like it was shrinking. You instinctively go to tug your dress down a bit, feeling overexposed. But he’s quicker, catching your hand in his own. 

“Don’t,” he murmurs, “you’re perfect like this.”

You should laugh it off. You should roll your eyes.

But you don’t.

Because the way he says it- like he means it-makes something deep inside you clench.

“I liked your show.” and it feels like a confession, like something you weren’t allowed to say out loud. 

“I know.” and you roll your eyes playfully before he cuts you off with, “So did your thighs.” 

You choke on your laugh.

“Confident, aren’t we?”

Bucky tilts his head a bit, and you can’t tell if he’s getting a better look at you or analyzing exactly where he needs to touch to make you weak.

“Don’t act shocked. You started it. Squeezing your thighs together while I was on stage? That’s flirting.”

“That’s called crossing my legs.”

“Cross them around my head next time, and we’ll call it even.”

You blink.

“Are you always this subtle?”

“Sweetheart,” he grins, “subtle gets you half the fun. You want subtle, go back to your boyfriend.”

You roll your eyes. “Ex-boyfriend.”

He takes another step forward. Then another. Gently leads you to sit on the red couch, so soft it felt like you were being sucked into it. God, you didn’t even want to think about what this room would look like if you turned on a blacklight- 

He straddles your lap.

And you forget how to breathe.

His knees bracket your legs, not quite touching you. His hands rest on his own thighs, muscles flexing just slightly, forearms thick and inked. 

He’s shirtless. You were clever enough to have noticed that when you first entered, but now, up close, it was all-consuming.

The glow of the lights dances across his chest, down his stomach, and whatever oil he must have used on himself amplifies every divot of his toned body. He must have spent years eating clean and hitting the gym to get this kind of figure. Every inch of him screams control.

He looks like a god. 

“You ever had a dance like this?” he asks softly. 

You shake your head, sure that it’s the last move you’ll make before you become paralyzed forever. 

“Good,” his voice is raspy, like he’s almost whispering, “I want to be your first.”

He leans forward, lips grazing the shell of your ear. 

“And your favorite.”

Then he moves.

His hips roll slow and deep, grinding just above your center, close enough to feel the heat of him through your clothes. His hands rest on the couch on either side of your shoulders, caging you in.

“How do you want this to go, doll?” he murmured, voice low and sinful “You want me slow? Gentle?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. He was close-too close. You could smell him. Feel the heat coming off his skin.

“Or…” His metal hand gripped the back of the couch behind your head. “You want me to show you what your asshole boyfriend never could?”

He doesn’t touch you. Not yet.

But he doesn’t need to.

Because the way he watches your reaction-how your lips part in a silent gasp-it’s like he’s memorizing you.

You exhaled shakily.

“That one.” you say before your brain can catch up to your mouth, “That one sounds- sounds good.”

“Good,” he coos, “let’s make your boyfriend nice and jealous. Show him how a woman like you deserves to be treated.”

“God, can we please not talk about my boyfriend right now?” you mutter, doing your best to keep your hands rooted at your sides like you’re cuffed there.

Not a bad idea. 

He chuckles wickedly above you.

“You’re right, pretty girl. Sweet little thing like you, and he’s taking you to a dirty place like this? Doesn’t he know what happens when you don’t take care of your things?” he coos, rolling his hips once more, closer this time, “Someone might take them away. Take better care of them. Someone like me.”

You hear a soft, pathetic whine pass your lips before you can stop yourself.

His mouth curls. 

“That’s my girl, let me hear it. Let me hear how much you want this.”

He’s licking up your neck, biting gently at your shoulder, sucking the sensitive spot where your neck and collarbone meet, nibbling at your earlobe.

“Bet he’s never touched you like this, doll. Never had you whining, begging for him, not like I do. And I haven’t even shown you my best moves.”

“What, the ones that require me to buy two drinks minimum?”

“Mmm. The ones I really want to try on you. The ones that might get me fired.”

Then he moved-really moved.

His hips were flush against yours. His abs brushed your chest as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your cheek. And then he finally brought his hips to yours.

Slow. Deep. Grinding down like he already knew exactly where you needed him most.

You gasped.

Your hands shot out on instinct, landing on his thighs, hard muscle under your palms. Just as quickly as you touched him, you pull away, internally cringing at your lack of control. 

“Sorry, I-”

“What are you sorry for, doll? Touch me all you want.” and he’s grabbing your hand in his, the vibranium arm still rooted behind your head. He brings your shaking fingers to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he gives your fingers a soft kiss, and then he’s dragging your hand down his chest, letting you feel every smooth valley and crevice of his delicious body, still rolling his hips into yours. 

Your fingers curled around his legs as he rocked into you again-slower, rougher, the friction making the growing heat between your legs grow more intense, drawing a gasp from you. 

“God, the sounds you’re making,” he growled, pressing his forehead to yours. “You ever been this wet with your clothes still on?”

“Jesus, Bucky-” and he’s back to his attack on your neck.

You’re gonna think about this later, aren’t you?” he said against your skin. “Gonna lie in bed and replay this in your head…fingers between your thighs… wishing it was me.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, rocking your hips up to meet his.

“There she is.”

You’re not even sure when it happens.

One second, Bucky’s hips are rolling slow and smooth against yours, his hands slipping beneath your dress in ways that definitely broke some rules, his voice wrecking you in your ear.

“You feel that, baby?”, he rasps, “That’s all me. For you.”

You’re just about to cave, to beg for him to just take you right there.

Then the door slams open.

“What the fuck?”

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part thirty-nine: you've been made

word count: 7.0k-ish

warnings: this chapter contains themes of violence and manipulation. reader discretion is advised.

thirty-eight | thirty-nine | forty

“…Who's Lando?”

His heart stopped.

She didn’t yell. She didn’t demand. She didn’t throw the phone at him or scream at him or accuse him of lying. Somehow, that made it so much worse, because she asked it like she already knew the answer, like it physically hurt her to even say it out loud.

Everything about her body language, every fine detail of her expression was paused, stilled like she didn’t want to believe it.

Lando stayed frozen.

Be very careful, Norris.

“Angel, what are you–”

“I picked up your phone,” she started, her voice trembling now. “Just to tell him you were resting. I was just– I wasn’t snooping or anything, okay? I was just– just trying to be nice, I promise.”

She began to ramble, the words tumbling out of her faster than she could keep up. “But then before I could say anything, he just started– I didn’t know he was going to start yelling about disappearing and jobs and going dark—”

“Okay,” he murmured softly, trying to calm her. “Okay. Just breathe—”

“Don’t,” she said sharply, practically hissing the word – though whether that was in pain or anger, he couldn’t tell. But he knew this wasn’t her usual voice – certainly not the one she used when she teased him or comforted him or even argued with him.

This was raw, wounded.

She shook her head. “Don’t do that. Don’t— don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. I’m– I’m not, okay? I know what I heard.”

He stood very still. Every muscle in his body was tense, as if ready to fight whatever tangible or intangible threat had dared to bring tears to her eyes. He’d promised to protect her, after all.

But he wasn’t quite sure he could protect her from this.

She watched carefully as everything about him softened — his shoulders, his eyes, the lines of his face. But it was not the kind of soft that came from tenderness.

It was resignation.

No. You’re supposed to tell me I’m wrong. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

Tell me I’m wrong.

Please.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” he admitted quietly.

“...So it’s true?” Y/N asked, her voice smaller than he’d ever heard it. Each of her words were still slow, wary, like her mind couldn’t wrap itself around this fracture of her reality. Each syllable was another chance from her for him to tell her otherwise, but he didn’t speak.

He didn’t deny it.

“And this?” She gestured vaguely between them. He couldn’t help but notice the way her hand trembled ever so slightly as she did. “You— you sleeping here, holding me like—”

She had to pause to swallow down the feeling that rose in the back of her throat, threatening to choke her. Her voice was much quieter this time when she spoke.

“...Was that fake too?”

“No,” he answered immediately. His tone was firm, unshakeable. Lando needed her to know that there was never even a chance that it could have been true. “That was never fake.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and something in her expression twisted.

“How can I believe you? I don’t even know who you are.”

Lando opened his mouth before he closed it again. Because what the fuck could he say?

He wanted to tell her that Liam was real — that he was Liam, at least in all the ways that mattered. He wanted to tell her that the man who kissed her knuckles and slept on her couch and drank too much sugar in his coffee, that man wasn’t fake. He wanted to tell her that she had made him feel more like himself than anything else in his entire twisted empire of blood and bones.

But right now, all she saw was the lie. 

How was he supposed to undo that?

She looked at him like she didn’t recognize him — like maybe she was seeing him for the first time. Her voice, when it came, was thin and high and impossibly quiet.

“I can’t–” Her hands were shaking now, just a little. “I can’t do this.”

Those words had his heart racing, his mind instantly flashing with the image of a life where she couldn’t even look him in the eye. 

No. That’s impossible.

I can fix this.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then exhaled through his nose. “Hey,” he tried gently, stepping forward. “Listen—”

“Don’t.” Her voice cracked, but she stood firm. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down or explain or lie again. Just tell me the truth. Who the hell are you?”

He was quiet.

Then, after thinking for a moment, he added, “…I’m still me.”

But the damage was already done. The space between them was cavernous now. 

As she looked at him with confusion swirling in those beautiful eyes, all he could do was stare. The name “Lando” now sat between them like a loaded gun on the table — impossible to ignore, impossible to take back.

“Lando’s my real name.”

That was as a good a place to start as any, right?

Y/N didn’t move. In fact, she wasn’t sure she was even breathing. The silence stretched — thick, brittle, about to snap.

He finally stepped forward, cautiously, as if approaching a wild animal that might bolt or bite. Then, Lando spoke, his voice low.

“I didn’t lie to hurt you.”

“Oh, well then,” she scoffed dryly. “Guess it’s fine.”

“I never wanted to lie to you,” he quickly corrected, shaking his head as he stepped forward again, hands up in a form of surrender. “But that first night, after the shooting — I thought if anyone came looking, I didn’t want them knowing your name. Or mine. I didn’t want you tied to it.”

For a moment, she seemed to consider his words, mulling them over in her mind.

“So you gave me the wrong name,” she tried cautiously, testing the words for their truth. “To protect yourself?”

“That’s not—” He stopped himself, before he tried again. “It was a precaution. I was scared too.

She narrowed her eyes, dubious. “Were you? You didn’t seem scared. You seemed… calm.”

“I didn’t know what we were caught up in,” he replied, making sure each word is low and even. He needed her to believe him. “I didn’t want t’ make it worse. So yeah, when I saw you again… I said my name was Liam. I thought maybe I’d walk away after that. Just, like, disappear.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No,” he repeated, his eyes locking with hers. “I couldn’t.”

And he meant it. There was something soft in the way he said it, something that almost made her want to believe him again.

For a while, there was only silence.

It makes sense, Y/N thought to herself. 

Some part of her certainly wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe him so badly. Maybe it was because he looked tired, or because he looked remorseful. 

Or maybe it was because he looked like the man who held her through the night like she was the only thing anchoring him to the earth.

He looked away, brow furrowing, like the memory genuinely haunted him.

“Y/N,” he started, a rare use of her real name instead of any of the petnames she’d started to become accustomed to. “You have to believe me. I thought using my real name would’a put you in danger.”

Her lip quivered, just barely. “So… you were protecting me?”

He nodded, his eyes searching hers, begging for belief. “From the beginning.”

She scanned his face, looking for cracks, for lies. Something that said run.

But when she met his gaze, she found that he looked like the same man who kissed her forehead goodnight. The same man who ran his fingers through her hair while they watched Hallmark movies and made dumb bets over grocery lists.

With her gaze piercing those hazel green eyes, he held his breath as she seemed to search for any reason not to believe him.

He was still familiar.

So she nodded once, shakily. The gesture caught him off guard. As soon as he noticed it in his periphery, his head snapped up.

She wore a small, tentative smile on her face. Some of the tension seemed to have begun leaving her body, the trembling beginning to lessen.

Finally, the tension in her chest loosened.

Maybe she was wrong.

Maybe he wasn’t some psycho monster.

She nodded slowly, voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she breathed finally, the words tasting foreign in her mouth. Lando let his eyes slip closed momentarily in relief, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a hint of a smile. 

“...Yeah? We’re… We’re good?”

“Okay,” she nodded, confirming. “Okay. I believe you.”

“Mint.”

On instinct, he moved closer to her, whether it was to reassure her or embrace her or something else, even he didn’t know. All Lando knew was that she believed him, that things could be okay, that he wasn’t going to lose her today.

Sure, he’d lied to her. But he’d done it to protect them, hadn’t he?

Soon enough, his arms wrapped around her, the warmth of him both comfortable and familiar. With her head tucked under his chin, her face was settled comfortably in the crook of his neck, the tip of her nose tickling him as it gently grazed the skin of his pulse point.

There was probably some scientific explanation for it, but she was beginning to think that there was something calming about the mere proximity to him, as if the steady beat of his heart is what guided her own.

It’s okay.

He’s still here.

It’s gonna be okay.

As her heart finally started to settle, she continued to turn over his words in her mind. She thought back to that night, that harrowing sight engraved in her memory when she’d seen the life leave a man’s body in an instant.

She remembered the way her heart had hammered in her ears afterward, the persistent ringing, the unshakeable feeling that in some crazy way, she was going to be next. She also remembered when warm, strong hands gently came to rest on her shoulders, a kind voice asking if she was okay. She remembered how patient he was with her, how he’d made sure she was alright, and had made sure to walk her home so she’d feel safe.

There was a kindness in his eyes that she’d felt uniquely drawn to even then, the way it made her feel as warm as the cup of tea did that night.

“Hey,” she whispered, barely bothering move from her clearly very comfortable spot.

“Hey there,” he greeted in return, cooing softly.

The affection in his voice, even after Y/N had treated him like some kind of crazy person only made her feel worse. The pit of guilt in her stomach only grew heavier.

“M’sorry. That was a lot. I didn’t mean to freak out. I just–”

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, “None of that, angel. You got nothin’ to say sorry for, yeah?”

“But I–”

“Uh uh,” he tutted mischievously, mirth dancing in his eyes as he leaned back to look at her. He liked them like this, soft and sweet. Having her so close to him made his heart preform dangerous tricks, but he didn’t mind it as long as she’d keep looking at him like that.

If Y/N always looked at him like that, Lando wouldn’t mind holding her like this for the rest of their lives.

“M’ serious,” he pretends to scold her. His tone may have been mocking, but he really did mean it. “No ‘sorry’s. None of ‘em.”

“None of ‘em?” she smiled playfully, raising her brow. “But what if–”

“I'll bite you.”

“Liam! I mean– shit, sorry–”

He shot her an amused look.

“Lando,” she finally managed to get out. “Sorry,” she added as well, just for good measure.

He smirked. “You can practice saying that all you want, sweetheart. And what’d I just say about sayin’ sorry, hm? Looks like I’ll just have to—”

Lando cut himself off to playfully bite at the skin of her neck, just a gentle, barely-there graze of his teeth against one of the places he happened to know she was more sensitive.

“Woah there,” she giggled, her heart skipping a beat. “Easy there tiger.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, but the smile he wore was devilish. “I thought girls liked that sort of thing.”

He looks way too proud of himself for that comment.

Blood rushed to her cheeks, tinging them pink. Y/N was learning that she had a strong, love-hate relationship with how often Lando was able to do that to her. 

“You’re always so dirty,” she laughed, pushing herself out of his hold. What she didn’t see was the joy on Lando’s face, the sheer relief he felt after he’d come so close to losing whatever this was between them.

He’d given up many things in his life, but he was beginning to seriously doubt that there was ever a world where he could give up her.

“I don’t know about you,” she called over her shoulder, walking away towards the kitchen “But I’m gonna put for some tea. You want any?”

And just like that, Lando could finally breathe again.

A comfortable silence fell over the apartment, the only sounds coming from the quiet metal clinking of the kettle being placed on the stove. Even feeling the warmth emanating from the stove did something to settle her nerves, to help dissolve what remained of the earlier adrenaline.

Even still, something didn’t sit right with her. Something whispered at the edges of her mind, refusing to let go.

I’m still me.

Lando’s my real name.

I never wanted to lie to you.

It was a precaution.

Clearly, he was good at lying. Y’N would be lying if she said that didn’t make her uncomfortable, especially if she thought about how long he’d lied to her for. There’d been so many chances since then – so many drives and lunches and movie nights and coffee runs where he had the chance to tell her the truth, to make this whole thing go away.

But he didn’t. He’d lied.

And for months, she’d been none the wiser.

The uncomfortable feeling persisted, stubborn in its objective of making her think about all the non-existent reasons he had of keeping the truth from her. It annoyed her, nagging at the back of her mind like a word stuck on the tip of her tongue or a memory just out of reach.

While the water began to heat, she glanced over at where Li– Lando was busy putting on the next episode of The Good Place for them to watch. Distantly, she could hear the vague sound of the Brit going on about something or the other, maybe even his own recap of last episode’s events.

Once Y/N was sure his back was turned, she slid her phone out from her pocket and clicked it on, her blood thrumming with anxiety as the letters appeared in the search bar.

Search: lando monte carlo 

The results punched the very air out of her lungs.

Beyond Forgery and Fraud: Reaper's Circle's Drug Empire Rises

Interpol Report: Norris Suspected in Multiple International Offenses

Lando Norris Suspected in Over a Dozen Murders. No Convictions.

Y/N stared at the screen, frozen. The sentences began to blend together, a whirlwind of the same words over and over again.

Mob boss.

Murderer.

Lando. 

Him.

No. No, this couldn’t—

Article after article appeared, an endless collection of headlines tying that name, tying Lando Norris, tying him to all sorts of crimes — racketeering, arms deals, disappearances, executions masked as robberies.

A memory rang in her ear, a snippet of the evening news playing on the radio in the car.

“Authorities have not yet identified the leader of the Reaper’s Circle, but rumors suggest it's someone with deep ties in Monaco’s elite—someone like Lando Norris, who has been involved in several high-profile events in recent months…”

“–The Reaper’s Circle, an organized criminal syndicate suspected of controlling various illicit activities across Monaco and beyond…”

He’d frozen, for that split second, before the mask had slipped back into place. Even then, sitting right beside her, it’d been so fucking easy for him to lie to her.

Despite the wave of nausea, her thumb automatically scrolled faster, her heartbeat louder than the boiling kettle. Everything felt far away, like the chaos of her mind had separated itself entirely from whatever she was meant to feel in her body.

Everything was numb.

As she scrolled, photos of him appeared, joining the digital mix. It was the same face she recognized, but also different at the same time. These photos were nothing like the ones in her phone, weren’t anything like the hidden snapshots of his occasional smile or the time she’d smudged a dab of toothpaste across his cheek, his hair mussed by sleep.

The photos she saw now caused a sinking feeling in her gut. The girl scrolled through mugshots, with their striped backgrounds and prisoner numbers. She scrolled through the paparazzi pictures, stolen photos taken by those who were trying to capture a glimpse of the force known as Lando Norris.

There was a clip of his face in black and white security footage. Y/N almost didn’t recognize the sharpness of his jaw, the clean-cut suits, the cold, unreadable expression. 

Why would she?

That wasn’t her Liam. That wasn’t the man who sipped cappuccinos in her café and fixed the bent sign above her door.

That man, it seemed, didn’t exist at all.

Her grip on the phone faltered, before the weight of it slipped from her loosened grasp. She caught it mid-fall, fingers clumsy, heart sprinting, vision blurred.

Behind her, the kettle began to scream.

Back in the living room, Lando was staring at the TV, flicking between episodes as the screen cast a soft, harmless glow across his face.

She stared at him from the kitchen doorway. His profile was calm, his silhouette familiar. 

He was still her Liam, just with a different name.

No.

He was a killer.

Her stomach churned. Her throat burned. She blinked, and when she looked at him again, he looked like a stranger now.

The kettle was still screaming on the stove when she turned it off. The tea sat untouched on the counter, steam curling up into the stale, too-quiet air.

Y/N stared at the screen of her phone one last time — headlines burned into her vision, images of blood and bodies flashing behind her eyes, her own reflection warped in the darkened black of the glass.

Lando Norris.

Her heartbeat thundered. Her limbs shook, but her grip tightened.

She reached for the drawer near the sink — the one with dull steak knives, takeout menus, and forgotten batteries. Her fingers closed around the handle of the sharpest one she had. It wasn’t a real pocket knife, but it would have to do. Y/N didn’t even remember what it looked like. All she remembered was the weight of it: cold, foreign, and damning.

Her hands trembled like leaves in a storm, but she didn't stop.

Not that she felt brave. If anything, she felt sick.

But still, she stepped forward.

The hallway between the kitchen and living room felt impossibly long — like her apartment had grown into a tunnel. Every footstep felt like it echoed louder than the last. The knife clutched in her hand quivered against her thigh.

She stood just out of his sight, one hand braced against the counter’s edge, the other gripping a knife with white-knuckled desperation. Her pulse was pounding in her ears, so loud it almost drowned out his words from the next room.

Lando’s voice carried from the couch, casual and unbothered. “–Or we could just order somethin’ in,” he continued, fingers drumming lazily on his thigh. “I mean, we’d have to see what’s open right now—”

Lando’s voice trailed off when she stepped back into the room. He had turned to look at her, half-expecting to see her usual soft expression, maybe that tired but warm little smile she gave when she was just happy he was here.

Instead, Y/N stood in the doorway, the kitchen light casting a halo behind her. Her eyes were wide and glossy, her face pale and her hands shaking. A knife gleamed in her grasp, and for a second, it didn’t even look real — like something out of a movie she never wanted to be part of.

It shook faintly in her hand – not from lack of conviction, but because her body was trembling under the weight of the fear she’d kept locked behind her ribs for the past ten minutes.

Lando’s brow furrowed. “Y/N?” he asked, slowly standing. “What are you doing?”

His voice was calm — gentle, like he didn’t quite understand.

Maybe he didn’t, because he took a step forward, and she flinched.

That’s when it happened.

That’s when Lando saw it — the flicker of something in her eyes. It wasn’t the soft worry she used to carry when he came in late, or the teasing suspicion when he dodged questions.

No.

This was pure, unadulterated fear.

He stopped in his tracks, something raw and unspoken painting his expression. “Wait—wait, sweetheart, what’s going on?” His voice cracked, barely holding itself together. “Put that down. You’re shaking.”

“Don’t come any closer.”

“What?”

“Get out. Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

Lando’s face froze.

His spine straightened. His entire world narrowed to the silver blade in her hand and the way her eyes wouldn’t meet his.

“Y/N?” he asked quietly, standing slowly from the couch. “What are you doing?”

She flinched.

Lando stood slowly from the couch like he was trying not to startle her. It was never good form to startle someone pointing a knife at your chest. 

“You’re shaking,” he noted, almost more to himself than to her. “Let’s put that down, sweetheart. Please. Let’s talk. We can— can we just talk? What’s goin’ on?”

“Don’t call me that.” Her voice cracked on the end of it, shattering the illusion like glass. “Stop it.”

He stopped moving, and her eyes finally met his.

“I looked you up,” she whispered. “Your real name. Lando Norris.”

She took a step back, and that’s when it happened.

His worst fear.

For the first time since they’d met on that rainy, bloodstained night in the alley, she looked at him like she didn't know him.

For the first time, Y/N looked at him like she was afraid of him.

There were no words that felt like they could describe the apprehension that emanated from her in waved.

In an instant, everything had changed. Where they had been laughing and flirting before, now there was an endless chasm separating them. Where moments ago there had been fondness and affection, now there was something else entirely.

His throat bobbed. “Listen, whatever you think you know—”

“I know enough,” she snapped, voice high with panic. 

Images flashed through her mind like a broken film reel. 

The blood on the pavement that night — dark, fresh, sticky. The faint smear of red on his shoe as he stood beside her, before he moved it out of her line of sight.His long fingers, wrapped around the handle of that gun — the same ones she’d recognize anywhere after hours of watching him tracing lazy, tender shapes on her arms as they watched TV together, skin against skin.

Her breath hitched. 

He wasn’t a witness.

Lando Norris was the shooter.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice cracking down the middle. “It was you. It was you, that night.”

She took another staggering step back, the distance between them growing even greater.

“You killed him. It was you, standing in that alley. And you lied! You looked me in the face and told me you just heard the gunshots.”

There was silence, heavy and suffocating. She shook her head, as if trying to erase the image of him sitting in her kitchen, making tea for a woman he nearly silenced forever.

“You walked me home, got inside my apartment, made me think you were trying to help me. But you weren’t. You were– You were just cleaning up your mess! You were tying up a loose end.”

Still he said nothing. Instead,  the man just stared at her like she’d peeled the skin off him and was staring at whatever ugly thing lay beneath.

“Say something,” Y/N snapped. “Fucking say something!”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he started to explain, and it sounded so hollow it made her stomach twist. “I didn’t— I didn’t know you. You were just—someone who saw something. I didn’t plan to get involved, Y/N. But then I did. I did. And I tried to keep you out of it.”

“No,” she gritted, her voice crumbling now, falling apart one word at a time. “You lied to me. You let me fall for you. You made me think you were just— You made me think you were my friend. You made me care about you. You… You made me trust you.”

Lando looked like she’d just stabbed him in the chest instead.

“I am that person,” he said quietly. “I didn’t fake that. I never faked any of it.”

The blade in her hand glinted in the twilight that leaked through the slivers of space between her curtains, the moon light pouring through. The metal of it glistened menacingly as its sharp point hovered just above where his heart was supposed to be.

He wasn’t sure he had one anymore.

There was nothing she’d said tonight that wasn’t true. His hand reached for hers, unexpectedly tender as it reached for where her fingers were wrapped around the hilt, urging it closer.

I deserve this.

If I died at her hands tonight, I would be okay with that, he thought. If it meant she wouldn’t look at him like this, he’d happily take whatever punishment she’d give him. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered reassuringly, smiling sadly. “S’alright.”

Her voice cracked completely. “Stop. Please, just stop.”

Tears slid freely down her cheeks now, hot and bitter. Then, a truth finally spilled out of her too, unbidden.

“I can’t believe you let me fall in love with you.”

Lando couldn’t breathe. 

Hearing those words was a punch to the gut, stealing all the oxygen from his lungs, wounding the softest, rawest part of him. His head spun, his stomach twisting with a gutteral ache.

“No,” his face twisted, some mix of horrified and devastated. “Please. Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” she whispered. “Because you know you don’t deserve it?”

He looked away, his face hot with shame.

“I let you into my home. I let you into my life. And the whole time… ” Her hand trembled harder around the knife. “You were Lando fucking Norris. Mob boss of Monaco. You’ve killed people. You– You probably had Margot killed. You probably—”

“I didn’t.” The words escaped like a snarl. “Don’t put that on me.”

“But you could have,” she breathed. “And that’s the problem.”

He flinched like she’d hit him.

She exhaled shakily, holding the knife tighter, like it was the only thing keeping her from collapsing. “You need to leave.”

“Y/N—”

He hesitated.

For just a second, Lando stood there — face wrecked, hands useless, eyes pleading for something he couldn’t ask for anymore. He opened his mouth again to explain, to lie, to beg, but she cut him off before he could even try.

“Don’t! Don’t say another word. I don’t wanna hear your voice.”

She might as well have slapped him right across the fucking face. 

It took whatever dwindling willpower she had left not to look at the wounded expression on Lando’s face. 

It was already hard to see him through her rapidly blurring vision, until it suddenly cleared. She swiped at a tear she only realized had fallen once it was streaming down her cheek, the knife still trembling in her grip. Her voice was tighter now, choked and disbelieving.

“You made me feel safe! You made me tea! You held me like I was— like I was yours,” she hissed, whispering the last word like it was dirty, a dream turned rotten. 

“And the whole time, you were just making sure I couldn’t talk? Making sure I’d forget?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn't speak.

What could he say?

She shook her head slowly, the betrayal sinking deeper into her chest like the slow spread of a toxin.

“Was any of it real?” she asked, the tears falling freely now. “Any of it? The coffee, the late-night walks, the books you pretended to like? The way you looked at me?”

There was a pause as she forced herself to take a shuddering breath. 

“Was that all fake too?”

“No,” Lando blurted out, his eyes wide. He’d stood here without complaint as every word from her mouth and every tear from her eyes fractured something in his chest into a thousand tiny, splintering shards of glass, but he couldn’t let her think that. “God, no.”

Even though he hadn’t dared to hope otherwise, it was clear to Lando now that the time for apologies had long since expired. Any question she asked now was empty, because even he knew that there was no answer that he could give her now that would forgive a years worth of lies. The truth had started to settle in: there was no logical way for him to explain this away.

There was no way to hope for the precious gift of Y/N’s forgiveness just one more time.

But for better or for worse, Lando’s heart had never been particularly good at listening to reason. All Lando could think about was the way her eyes were rimmed with red, glistening with the aftermath of his betrayal.

Y/N laughed then – a bitter, hollow thing. “You know what? Forget it. Please. Just go. Just fucking go.”

Against all sense of reason, Lando took a small step forward, the tip of her blade now barely centimeters from his chest. The movement was slow and easy, laced with a sense of acceptance. Still, he looked at her with a sense of sad curiosity.

She raised the knife higher, crying outright now, her heart thudding like it was trying to escape her chest.

“Are you even listening to me? I said, get out!” she spat. “If you come any closer to me, I swear to God, I will scream. I’ll— I’ll call the cops. I’ll tell them everything.”

Lando’s face crumpled not with rage or frustration, but with grief.

“You’re scared of me,” he breathed, the words barely audible. “You really are.”

The shine of his eyes mirrored hers now, the weight on his chest pressing down until his voice broke. He took a half-step forward, desperate. “I didn’t want this. I swear to God, I never wanted this—”

“Get. Out!”

She was crying now — tears streaming freely, silently, like she didn’t even notice. Her whole body shook.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please get out before I call the cops.”

Lando stared at her, his mouth parted, eyes unreadable — but behind the storm in them was something small, something shattered.

She wasn’t bluffing. She wasn’t just scared. She was done.

That hurt worse than any bullet ever could.

So he did the one thing he didn’t know how to do.

He stepped back.

The silence that followed felt like the final breath before a storm, the quiet before the tidal wave of a tsunami.

Lando didn’t try to explain anything else after that. He nodded once, just once.

It nearly killed him.

Lando turned toward the door. He moved slowly then, like he was walking through water. Each step sounded like a funeral drum, final and echoing.

He didn’t say goodbye.

He reached for the door, his fingers shaking — not because of the threat of the knife he could tell was still pointed at him, but because of her.

Lando Norris had outsmarted enemies, evaded authorities, and cheated death itself. Yet in this moment, he didn’t fight back. He didn’t try to convince her of his innocence, or prove himself worthy of her forgiveness. 

For all his brilliance, even Lando Norris knew that he couldn’t shoot, couldn’t outsmart, couldn’t trick his way out of this. Even he knew that now, there were no more illusions.

Now, it was just him, losing the one thing he never wanted to lose.

When he reached the door, confronted with its familiar sight far too soon, Lando glanced back, one last time. 

He looked for her, for any bit of the girl he once knew. There, instead of seeing the heartbreak spilling down her cheeks or the trembling of her hands, he saw only the same determination and ferocity he’d fallen in love with. 

In that moment, he wished he could spend an eternity standing there, if not to admire her then to memorize her face, suddenly confronted with the fear of forgetting even the smallest thing about her. 

In those last moments before he granted her final wish by leaving, Lando stood frozen, eyes darting over her face like he was trying to memorize it — like this was the last time he’d be allowed to look at her. He wanted to see her, really see her.

Just one more minute.

But Y/N didn’t meet his eyes.

She couldn’t.

God, it killed her enough to watch the man she loved standing there, looking wrecked and helpless, like he was the one being torn apart.

But she couldn’t afford to care, couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes as he left.

He didn’t beg.

He didn’t try to stay.

He opened the door with slow, deliberate movements — like even that, even leaving, was hard.

Before he stepped out, Lando turned.

“…I’m sorry you found out like this.”

The door shut behind him, and then all that was left was silence.

The door shut like the slam of a coffin.

Y/N stood in the center of her kitchen, the silence roaring in her ears. Her hands were still suspended in front of her, useless and twitching as her breath came in sharp, shallow bursts. The silence in the apartment pressed in around her — thick, oppressive, empty.

And then the knife hit the floor.

She crumpled a second later.

Right there, in the middle of her kitchen tile, knees hitting hard and breath stolen like a rug yanked out from under her. Her hand found the counter to brace herself, but it wasn’t enough.

Nothing was enough.

She hit the ground with a soft thud, curling inward like her ribs were caving around her heart — like her body was trying to protect her from something it was too late to stop.

The first sob came out sharp, crooked. It wasn’t graceful or cinematic — just raw.

She dragged herself backwards until her spine hit the cabinet and she stayed there, slumped on the cold tile like it might somehow anchor her. Like it might remind her what was real.

The headlines were still on her phone screen. She reached for it with trembling fingers, locked it, then shoved it across the floor like it burned her.

Because it did.

Her head hit the cabinet behind her with a quiet thunk.

She squeezed her eyes. Her hands pressed against her chest like she could hold her heart in.

She couldn’t.

She’d been holding it all in like a dam — fear, anger, disbelief — but now the cracks had given way, and it all came rushing out.

Finally, she sobbed freely.

They were guttural, shuddering, animalistic cries. The kind that clawed their way out of her chest and echoed in the hollow of her apartment like ghosts. Her fingers curled into her sleeves, like if she held herself tightly enough, she could disappear back into the life she thought she had.

But there was no going back.

She pressed her forehead to the cold cabinet door, hot tears dripping down her nose. She could still smell him in the air — cologne and city rain and something warm that had always reminded her of home.

Except it never was.

None of it had been real.

Her chest tightened so violently she thought she might throw up. Her stomach churned, her head a kaleidoscope of memory and betrayal.

The way he used to tuck her hair behind her ear.

The night he stayed just to hear her read.

Her breath came out in short, gasping bursts — not quite crying, not quite breathing either. Just this horrible, shaking in-between where she couldn’t make sense of anything. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel anything except the acid curling in her chest.

She wasn’t just heartbroken.

She felt violated. Deceived. Used. She had slept beside a murderer. Laughed with him. Kissed him. Loved him.

The pain hit her in waves — disbelief, nausea, betrayal, grief. She wanted to scream. To sob. To undo it all.

But she just sat there, shaking, arms wrapped tight around her knees, forehead pressed to the floor. She curled tighter, hands tangled in her own shirt, as if she could squeeze the memory of him out of her skin. But it was still there — the phantom of his touch, the echo of his voice.

She had loved him.

Or at least… she had loved who she thought he was, a version of him that apparently didn’t even exist.

The thought only made her feel even more sick.

She buried her face in her knees and cried — for herself, for her stupid, naive heart, for the man she never really knew.

And the man who’d fooled her so well, she’d wanted to build a life around him.

The second the door shut behind him, Lando staggered down the stairs like a man far drunker than he was. He reached the bottom of her building and stopped beside his car, hands braced on the roof like he couldn’t stand up straight anymore.

He didn’t get in.

He didn’t light a cigarette.

He just stood there, letting it hit him.

An image flashed before his eyes, a memory of the look on her face — like he was something to be afraid of. Something that didn’t belong in her world anymore.

Each moment was permanently engraved in his memory now. His mind played a loop of it on repeat, the way she told him to get the fuck out, that he wasn’t safe, that he wasn’t welcome here anymore.

And the worst part?

She was right.

He stared up at the window of her apartment, but he couldn’t see inside. Right now, Lando had no way of knowing if she was crying or curled up on the floor or already dialing 911.

He wouldn’t blame her. She should. He certainly deserved it.

As stupid, as it may have seemed, he just wanted to know if she was okay. With no way of reaching her, he had no way of reassuring her, comforting her, telling her it’d be okay. There was nothing he wouldn’t have given up just for the chance to say he was sorry, and to tell her that none of this was her fault.

But the silence made it worse, made it real.

He whispered her name like a spell — like perhaps if he said it softly enough, it’d somehow turn back the hands of time until she was back in his arms.

But of course, no such thing happened.

She had looked at him like he was a monster.

He’d seen fear before — real fear. Hell, he caused it. But never in her. Never like that. Not from the one person who made him believe, even for a second, that he was something more than a broken man with blood on his hands.

And now?

That look was all he’d see when he closed his eyes.

Everything she said, every word, looped in his head like punishment. Like penance. And for once, there was no lie clever enough to silence them.

He slammed a fist against the roof of his car with a grunt, as if would somehow release the knot in his chest. But with the anger at himself gone, there was only heartbreak that remained.

He had killed people. Broken bones. Set fires. Crushed men under his heel like ants.

But this? This was the worst pain he’d ever felt.

It’s your own damn fault.

He should’ve told her. Should’ve left her alone the moment he saw her face that night. Should’ve walked away the first time she smiled at him like he was safe.

He wondered if it felt like this for everyone, wondered if heartbreak was supposed to make you feel like your insides had been scooped out until there was no you actually left anymore. Until you were so empty you could barely stand.

Before he could do something stupid like cry, Lando slowly got into the car and closed the door. He gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands, but he made no move to start the engine.

The air in the car felt so thick it was suffocating, yet still he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

The cabin was silent except for the faint static of the air vents and the occasional sound of a passing car outside.

Lando was still. He had never felt stillness like this, not even after a kill.

He just sat there, hands gripping the wheel, heart beating too loudly in the hollow space her absence had left behind. In the black car window, his reflection stared back at him with cold eyes, pale skin, jaw clenched, hands shaking.

Not a man.

Not even a liar.

He didn’t even know what he was anymore. 

Instead of trying to figure it out, Lando just sat there, his forehead against the wheel, trying to remember what it had felt like to be Liam. To be the version of himself she had loved.

But there was no going back to that now.

Only Lando was left.

And for the first time in a long time, he hated the name more than anyone else ever could.

a/n: i'm so sorry for letting you guys and not posting when i said i would. please believe me when i say i tried, it's just that my personal life decides to bin it at the most inopportune times. i may or may not have channelled that into this chapter lol

but also thank you all so much for all your lovely reactions to the last chapter!! i would love to hear what you thought of this one...

[imaginedreamwrite]

How do the 141 + Nikolai and König react to their s/o trying to push thru hand away while fingering them?

Gaz:

His fingers push into your sopping heat, curling in the way that drives you crazy. His smirk widens when you make a sound like a startled bunny getting caught in a trap. His amusement only furthers when you attempt to push his hand away, desperate for him not to continue. Your mind is already turning to mush, how much more can you take?

“You want another one?” He slips another finger in, damning you to lose your ability to speak verbal words, all that’s released is squeaks and high pitched moans. “What’s wrong baby? Cat got your tongue?”

John:

“Told ya not to do that.” John’s thick accent burns into your heart as he increases the thrust of his fingers, his hand under the table hidden from the couple you’re on a double date with. “Ya had to push my hand away, sweetheart. Now look at you-”

“Please,” you whimper under your breath, trying to keep one hand above the table while the other wraps around his wrist, trying to shove his hand away from you. “John not here-”

Buzzing breaks your focus, your eyes screwed closed as that pocket vibrator comes to life. You turn your head, bite your lips and hope the other couple, who’s so focused on each other, don’t see you.

“You’re not in charge.”

Johnny & Simon:

“Hold her steady, Soap.” Simon lifts his head with the instruction for Johnny, while Simon’s fingers plunged in and out of your cunt. The sound of your sloppy juices coated his fingers and hand, while you struggled to get your wrists free from Johnny’s grip.

“Its too much-”

“Ye hear that, Simon? S’too much for the little one.” Johnny grins wickedly as he leans over and hovers above your face, his lips nearly brushing against yours. “Can’t handle the Ghost, you?”

“Squealing like a little bunny,” Simon grins and brushes the tip of his nose against your clit, changing the position of his fingers. “You got all night with us, pet.”

König:

“You do that again and I’ll handcuff you to the wall.” König growls into your ear, threatening you when you attempted to push his hand away.

It was fruitless, it would’ve always been because he had size and strength on you.

“I want to feel you, I want to help you relax.” König bit down on your neck, not enough to hurt you, but to silence you. “Feeling my fingers? You love that don’t you?”

“König please-” he removed his fingers from your seeping pussy to wipe your sweet juices across your lips.

“Shh.” He pressed the pads of his fingers against your lips, ordering you to silence. “Not another word.”

Nikolai:

His fingers curl around the diamond encrusted chain that leads to a choker of similar beauty sitting around your neck. He doesn’t pull, he doesn’t need to, he just needs to hold the chain as a reminder.

He watches you with almost a lazy expression on his face as you moan and arch your back. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your fingers twitch and you’re tempted to push his hand away from your cunt, to stop him from touching you.

“Don’t even think about it,” Nikolai’s voice drops to an edge that makes you shiver, catching you before you can even try, “you sit there like a good щенок and let me fuck you with my fingers.”

Only then does he tug on the chain, and your head snaps up as you’re forced to face him. He has the power, he has the control, and he’s going to do what he wants with you.

[avenging-fandoms]

SHOWER FUCK WITH JOEL

this is way more than a shower fuck, but it is in here! i just love joel and made it long and slow burny :')

-

Jackson hasn't always been your plan, but that's where you'll live with Joel and Ellie for the time being. You've been with them for a few years and enjoyed helping Joel out when he needed it and keeping an eye on Ellie because she needed it, sometimes it was easier to come to you with certain issues. You knew you couldn't stay with them, it was too dangerous.

Joel thought there was no time for love in the apocalypse, and he sure as hell shouldn't risk the heartbreak of possibly losing them. He already went through a terrible one and is doing his damndest to not go through it again.

Then you came along.

A mixture of dry and wet leaves give you away beneath your feet as you head through woods, trying to find somewhere to rest. You had been walking, sprinting and running from many different people and things.

You find a big tree and let out a loud sigh, letting your back hit the bark and you fall slowly to the dirt. Your muscles burn as they finally rest after miles of walking, your eyelids fighting to close. You gave up, letting them shut and finally feeling relaxed.

Click.

"Wake up," A deep voice commands. You shoot your eyes open and jump, gasping loudly as the barrel of a gun points at your nose, your hands immediately going up. "Who are you?"

"I-I-I I just needed a place to rest, I've been running from these people who-" The man shifts his weight, adjusting his grip. "My name is Y/N, I just want to sleep," you say exasperated.

Your fingers tremble in the air, the brown haired man dropping his weapon after staring at scanning his eyes over you for a minute. You were clearly younger than Joel but a little older than Ellie. "Are these people far behind?"

You nod a little too quickly. "They're days behind, I'm quick on my feet." A small curve forms from the corner of your lip and the burly man's eyes follow it, then falling to his shoes.

"We need sleep too, you can sleep with us for the night, then we'll split in the mornin'," the man says tiredly and you nod. "I'm Joel, and that's Ellie." He nods to the young teen, her hand giving a small wave and a warm smile on her face. "You two go on 'head and sleep, I'll take first watch."

"Thank you, Joel. Thank you so much." Tears nearly burst out at your gratefulness for a peaceful sleep. You set up a sleeping area, wasting no time getting as comfortable as you can and closing your eyes.

"Do you have to leave her, Joel? Why can't she come with us?" Ellie asks and your eyes open a bit to see Joel sitting, Ellie standing over him with her hands on her hips. "She seems nice."

"Yeah, seems, Ellie, we don't know her," Joel quietly snaps back and the teen rolls her eyes.

"Well, you seem like an asshole but you're not all that bad. I gave you a chance and you gave me one, right?" Joel looks at Ellie, who gives him a shit-eating grin.

"Go to bed, Ellie. You need your rest," Joel commands and Ellie salutes. You close your eyes again and Ellie sets up a few feet away from you, and the two of you get a restful sleep.

Joel knocks on the door but enters without an answer. "Hey, I'm heading to the bar, did you want to tag along?"

You lay on your bed on your stomach reading your recent find, looking up at the salt and pepper haired man. "A drink sounds fantastic." You mark your page and hop off, grabbing your shoes.

Joel chuckles low in his chest. "Alright, I'll be downstairs waiting for ya, sweetheart. No rush." He nods before leaving. You hide a squeal and put on a tank top with jeans and your sneakers, the warm Spring weather creeping up. You head down after a few minutes and Joel greets you downstairs with a half smile.

"I was worried you'd leave without me," You sigh with a step on the floor. Joel shakes his head and offers his arm, to which you wrap your arm under his and hold his bicep as you two walk to the bar.

Joel holds the door open for you and you thank him with a curtsey, earning another laugh. You two settle at table by the window, ordering two shots and two whiskey neats.

You hold up the tiny glass, looking at Joel. "To teenagehood- why parents drink." Joel finally lets out a real laugh and you can't help but join in.

"I'll sure as hell cheers to that." He picks up his glass and looks at you, a small sparkle in his eye. "To Ellie, to you, to me," He adds on.

You grin and clink your glasses, faces twisting as the liquid burns down your throat. "Oh, how I needed that shot," you groan, Joel shaking his head with a smile as he crosses his arms.

"Are you liking it here?" Joel asks and sips his whiskey and you mimic his move, taking a bigger sip.

"It's really nice, the people are really nice," You begin, holding your glass with both hands as you stare at the brown liquid, "I've been meaning to.. talk to you."

Joel's eyes find yours but you can't look at him. "Is everything okay? You alright?"

You nod, glancing at his face. "Yes, Joel, I'm fine. I just think I should.." your eyes dart around the table, landing on his broken watch. "I think I should leave Jackson."

Joel's ears started to ring. There it is, he thought. The reason I didn't want her around — when she leaves, it'll break me.

"I, uhm," Joel mumbles, chewing on his lip. "If that's what you want, I can't stop you." He takes a sip once more.

You stare at him, trying to find words, but you had nothing. You wanted him to say more, you thought you two had been getting along. You wanted him to wish you well, maybe even try to stop you.

The whiskey in your glass is gone in an instant and you set it on the table. "I'm going home. Thanks for the drink," you grumble, squealing the legs of the chair on the floor as you stand up and leave, the bell dinging above your head.

Joel stares down and watches as he swirls his liquor around his glass, the only thought racing through his mind being you. When he found you, when he got hurt and you healed him, when you got hurt and he helped you heal, all the small moments.

He finishes his drink and pays, following you back to the house. His heavy boots carry him inside where he kicks them off by the door, heading up the stairs, hearing the shower turn on. Ellie was on patrol so he knew it was you and he knocks a few times.

You open the door, steam pouring out as you stand in front of Joel in your tank top and underwear, Joel's Adam's apple bobs as he realizes your pants are behind you on the tile.

"Y/N.. I don't.." He takes a step closer, hand twitching by his side as it aches to touch you, to hold your face. His big brown eyes lock with yours, and he reaches up to cup your cheek and runs his thumb over the smooth flesh. "I don't want you to go, sweetheart."

Joel's voice starts to break and your body starts to melt. You lean your face into his calloused hand, smoothing your hand up his arm and holding the back of his hand that held you. "Joel.."

"I can't lose you, Y/N," He starts, eyes memorizing every last inch of you in case it is the last time. "I didn't want you around, but goddamn it, sweetheart I'm wrapped around your finger. I've dreamed about you, how happy you make me. I didn't want to admit it because I didn't want to lose you, but now I'm losing you, and I need you to know.. I need you to stay." Joel pushes his fingers to hold behind your neck, his thumb running along your jaw with his nose brushing against yours. "Stay with me, Y/N," He pleads in a broken whisper.

He tilts your head up and your fingers grip his flannel, pulling him into the bathroom as you slam your lips on his. He growls and closes the door behind him, your fingers desperately undoing the buttons and pushing it to the floor, gripping his exposed biceps.  

His rough hands explore your body, pushing his hands into your underwear and gripping your ass, kissing you roughly and placing you on the counter. His tongue pokes at your lips and you part them slightly, Joel audibly moaning as your tongues press together. 

“Y'taste so good, sweetheart,” He breathes, peppering kisses down your neck, his large hand pulling your hips forward. Joel pushes the tight tank top over your head, pushing his hands up your bare back and gripping your hair from underneath. A gasp escapes your throat when he tugs your head back, giving him a clear view of your bare torso.

Only it wasn't bare. There was a bite mark on your ribs, but it was healed, like Ellie's. You forgot it was there until you feel Joel's fingers run over it and you start to breath heavy, trying to break from his grasp but he shushes you.

"You're alright, baby, I won't hurt ya," Joel says, assurance laced in his voice as he presses his body to yours. Joel arches your body up and finds the bite again, tracing it lightly with his finger. "You're immune?"

You shrug. "My cousin and I got in contact with spores. She turned, I didn't. It doesn't make sense to me either, I know the vaccines before this whole thing didn't make me immune," You shrug and Joel twists your body, placing his lips tenderly on the scar and he feels your rib contract. You inhale a shaky breath. "I didn't want to tell you and risk people finding out there's two, and they kill you to take us." He kisses every inch of the scar and hums in understanding, curling his fingers into your underwear and pulling them off your body, tucking them in his shirt pocket with a wink.

"Better not keep wasting that water." Joel stands with a smirk and you eagerly pull off his shirt, licking your lips with a devilish smile. You rip out his belt and hop off the counter, opening the shower curtain. "Y'better wait for me, sweetheart," The man warns and you step in, humming as the warm water hits your body.

Joel drops his jeans and throws his socks in the pile, ripping open the curtain. "I couldn't waste anymore water." You watch the water fall down Joel's grey hair, down his neck and chest, and you stop at his belly button.

He grabs your neck again, kissing you desperately and curling his body into yours. Your arms snake around his neck, grabbing his curls in your knuckles. Joel's hands massage your ass, his fingers teasingly brushing against your pussy.

"Joel.." you whimper against his mouth. He pulls away from the kiss and grabs the bottle of shampoo, squirting some into his hands and scrubbing it in your hair.

"You were gonna take a shower, right?" He gives you a half smile and you roll your eyes, enjoying his fingers massaging your scalp. You switch places and tilt your head back with your eyes closed, rinsing the shampoo out.

Joel stared at you like you were prey, ready to pounce and feed every ounce of his body that missed the feeling of someone else, devouring you until he was satisfied.

His left palm rests on your neck, his pinky keeping your head up but careful enough not to get water on your face. His right hand smooths over your chest, toying with each nipple, pushing a finger slightly into your stomach as he falls down to your clit.

You exhale a moan when he rubs your clit between his fingers, the tips of his fingers moving the sensitive bud in small, slow circles. You try to look at him but he pushes his hand up higher, keeping your head up as he slides his fingers inside of you.

"There y'go, sweetheart, let me hear ya," Joel breathes as your moans dance in his ears, your foot resting on the edge of the tub. His fingers pump faster, dropping his left hand to move on your clit. Your moans grow louder and you grab on the metal bar for support, your eyes fighting to stay open as your orgasm quickly approaches.

"Joel.. wait," you gasp and grab his wrist, stopping his movements and dropping your wobbly leg. You kiss him gently and fall to your knees, kissing the tip of his hard, thick cock.

"Oh, sweetheart." The nickname rumbles in his chest and he pushes his fingers through his wet hair, pushing his head back and groaning incredibly loud as you wrap your mouth around his tip. You bob your head slowly, dragging your tip along the bottom of his cock as you pull away. “Baby, I’m gonna cum quick, and I don’t wanna do it in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

Joel has you stand by holding your jaw, kissing you hard and pulling you into his body once more. This wasn’t how he imagined the first time, he imagined being dry, in the bed, taking his time and getting to know you.

That was going to have to wait. Joel hooks his right arm under your knee, holding your leg up and slapping his cock against you. Your fingers find his hair again, his hair falling in his face as he watches his dick push into your pussy slowly.

You push a hand against his chest, shaking as you adjust to the very foreign feeling. "I've got you, sweetheart, you're okay," Joel trembles against your mouth, "Tell me when you're ready."

You press your forehead against his, looking him in his eyes and nodding. Joel's eyes stay locked on yours when he begins to thrust, huffs of air and moans falling from his lips.

You try to kiss him but your lips fall weak and Joel takes the opportunity to bite your swollen bottom lip, and his jaw shortly falls open, left arm wrapping tightly around your back with his nose pressing deep in your neck.

"Sweetheart, I'm not going to last much longer." You whimper in agreement, kissing him passionately as his thrusts quicken. "Oh my stars," Joel grunts as his seed pours into you, pulling your hips down onto him as your body shakes from your orgasm.

Joel pulls out of you slowly and sets you down, holding your face like you could break. "Fuck, Joel," you huff and he laughs, kissing the top of your head and grabbing your conditioner. He quickly puts it in your hair and washes his hair with his shampoo, then washing off your bodies before anymore water was down the drain.

Joel gets out first, wrapping a towel around his waist and opening the curtain, holding the towel open and wrapping you in it to keep you warm. He pecks your nose and takes you to his bedroom, setting you on the bed and getting you another towel for your hair. While you dried off, he went and retrieved the clothes from the bathroom, keeping his flannel in a safe place and changing into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Here, I know you have clothes but I'd love to see you in my clothes." Joel holds out a flannel and a pair of sweatpants and you happily take them from him. You stand and drop the towel, looking at Joel as you slide the sweatpants on, hands on your hips with your chest still very naked.

"There are a little long, no?" He didn't notice. "I'll just roll them up, they're very comfy." Joel clears his throat when you reach for the flannel, licking his lips as you slide it on.

He walks over to you and grabs the bottom of the shirt, starting with the bottom button and working his way up. He uses this opportunity to tease you; rubbing his fingers with a feather touch against your skin so you shudder, his fingers lingering certain places for a while so you move your body closer to his.

Once you're all dressed, he stands back and bites his lip, nodding. "Even more beautiful as I thought you'd look," Joel mumbles, kissing you slowly. Your hands fall down his bare back, digging the pads of your fingers in to bring him even closer. He pulls away and closes his eyes, moving his nose against yours. "Will you stay with me, Y/N?"

You smile wide and push your fingers in his hair on the back of his head, pecking his lips. "I'll stay with you until the sun stops shining, Joel."

For once in his life after the apocalypse, he believes someone wasn't going to leave him. He believes in you, in you and him, and he'll do everything and anything to keep you and Ellie safe.

[mymelllllinda]

Pretty Mouth 2 — Geum Seong Je x F!Reader x Na Baekjin

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” Seongje said, voice low . Baekjin didn’t speak at first, he just reached out brushing your hair from your face with a tenderness that made your breath catch. His eyes lingered on you, dark and certain. “He’s not wrong,” he said softly. “You’re breathtaking like this.”

cw: dark!seongje, noncon, forced oral, hair pulling, praise kink, degradation, slight breeding kink? #MDNI

link to part one here

“Maybe next time… I’ll bring Baekjin.”

That sentence has haunted me for a week.

Seongje said it like a threat as he walked out of the bathroom stall, leaving me on my knees, throat sore and spit-slick, the taste of him still clinging to my tongue. He didn’t look back. 

Baekjin.

He said it slowly, like a threat wrapped in silk.

And ever since, my brain hasn’t stopped trying to fill in what that "next time" looks like.

And then—

Snap.

A pen hits my desk, hard enough to make me flinch.

“Shit, sorry,” Jun-tae says, voice low and half-laughing. “Didn’t mean to wake you from whatever dark place you just went to.”

I look up too fast, heat blooming up my neck.

He’s already grinning, sliding into the chair beside me.

 His gaze flickers to my face.

“You okay?” he asks, quieter now.

I nod. “Yeah.” A lie.

Jun-tae leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Haven’t seen you around much since last weekend. What’s up with that?”

I shrugged, keeping my gaze fixed on my notebook. “Nothing, really. Just been studying.”

A weak excuse, but I didn’t trust my mouth with anything closer to the truth.

Jun-tae let out a short laugh. “Studying?” He tilted his head, clearly amused. “Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that with a straight face.”

Before I could answer Jun-tae, a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around my shoulders from behind.

“Baku!” I breathed, startled.

He leaned in with a grin, chin brushing my hair. “Hey, hey! you guys up for fried chicken later?”

Before I could respond, he added, ��And don’t even think about saying no.”

I glanced between them—Jun-tae still watching me closely, Baku’s arms heavy and warm around me, both of them waiting. The attention made my chest tighten, the unspoken pressure curling in my stomach.

I swallowed. “Yeah… sure. Let’s go.”

Baku gave a satisfied hum, and I felt his grip linger just a second longer than it needed to before he let go.

"I'm so full," Hyun-tak groaned, leaning back with a dramatic sigh like he’d just survived a war.

Baku snorted, stealing one of the last fries off his plate. “You say that now, but I swear your hand’s been hovering over the basket this whole time.”

“Let him breathe,” Jun-tae said, stretching lazily with a grin. “Hyun-tak’s body’s 80% chicken at this point. We should be grateful he hasn’t started clucking.”

Sieun laughed, deep and low, the kind of sound that made people lean in just to hear it again. 

Then my phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

I barely glanced at the others before unlocking it. One tap. Then the air left my lungs.

It was me. Staring back at myself through the screen—eyes wide, mascara streaked, lips parted like I’d just been wrecked. Because I had.

My chest tightened. My grip on the phone faltered.

FLASHBACK

“Seongje, what the fuck are you doing—delete that right now! You can’t—”

“Shut up.” His tone was flat. Razor-sharp. “You think you get to fuck around with that little pretty-boy, Baku, and not pay for it?”

He angled the screen toward me to see my own image staring back. Mascara smudged. Mouth open.

“You belong to me now,” he said. Calm. Cruel. “And if I see you near him again, hell, if I even hear his name in your breath, this photo goes to every inbox at your school.”

END FLASHBACK

"Hey."

I flinched.

Jun-tae was frowning at me, leaning across the table. "You good?"

“Yeah,” I said too quickly. “Yeah. Just spam.”

“Spam,” Baku joked, bumping my knee under the table. “Must’ve been your secret admirer confessing in Morse code.”

They laughed again, easy and bright.

I forced a sound that passed as a chuckle and shoved my phone deeper into my pocket.

But I could still feel it. The weight of Seongje’s voice. That picture burned behind my eyes. His threat.

And across the table, Baku smiled at me.

I smiled back.

Even though all I could hear was:

“You belong to me now.”

“Alright guys, I think I’m gonna call it a night. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, forcing a smile as I stood up.

“So soon?” Jun-tae asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah… sorry for being a buzz kill.”

“Nah, you’re good,” Hyun-tak said, stretching. “I was about to head out too. Want me to walk you home?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to drag you out of your way.”

He hesitated. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” I smiled again, a tight one. “But thank you.”

“Alright... if you say so,” he said, still sounding unsure.

“Night, guys!” I called over my shoulder with a wave as I slipped out the door.

The moment it clicked shut behind me, the smile collapsed.

Gone.

I stood there on the street for a second, the cold air biting against my skin, my breathing suddenly too loud in the quiet night.

And then I started walking—fast. Hands shoved into my pockets, head down, heart hammering.

I was so deep in my thoughts—spiraling about that damn photo, about what Seongje could do with it—that I didn’t notice the car until it was already beside me.

The door swung open, and before I could react, hands grabbed me from behind.

Rough. Forceful.

I barely had time to scream.

“What the—fuck!” I yelled, kicking back, but I was already being shoved inside. The car door slammed shut before I could process what was happening.

Then I heard it.

“Oh, so noisy.”

That voice.

I froze.

Seongje.

He was in the front seat, half-turned in the passenger seat like this was all some casual meet-up. A cigarette dangled from his lips, lit with an audible click of his lighter. He took a long drag, exhaled slowly through his nose, and smirked like a snake watching a mouse twitch.

“Miss me?” he said, voice low and smug, as if this was all some inside joke I was too slow to catch.

I couldn’t speak.

My heart was beating too fast. My skin was ice.

He tapped ash out the cracked window and looked forward. “Let’s hit the bowling alley,” he said, like we were going for fucking ice cream.

The moment he said it, my stomach dropped.

I knew what that meant.

I knew exactly why he was taking me there.

I knew exactly who he was taking me to see.

“No—Seongje—please,” I stammered, panic rising in my throat. “I don’t want to—”

He turned his head just enough to glare at me from the corner of his eye, cigarette perched between his fingers. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Did I ask you something, babe?”

Silence.

Complete. Crushing. I couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, right. I didn’t.”

His voice was calm. Too calm. Like he was talking about the weather—not about dragging someone off the street and shoving them into a car.

I pressed back against the door, fingers scrambling for the handle. It wouldn’t open.

Child lock.

He leaned his elbow on the seat, cocked his head, and smiled wider.

“Try it again,” he said. “Please.”

My hand froze.

I didn’t move.

“Smart girl,” he whispered.

And all I could think was:

Oh god! 

When we pulled up to the bowling alley, the air in the car thickened.

"Alright, everyone. We're here," Seongje announced, mocking cheer in his voice, like we were on some twisted school trip.

I didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

My body locked up in the back seat, my fingers curled into fists against my thighs, praying he'd forget I was even there.

But of course, Seongje noticed.

He turned, annoyance flaring across his face like a switchblade. “Hey! Get the fuck out.”

His voice cracked like a slap.

That jolted me. I scrambled to open the door, fumbling with the handle like a scared animal. My feet barely hit the ground before his hand clamped around my wrist, tight.

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.

He yanked me behind him, dragging me across the lot like he was pulling a dog on a leash. His half-finished cigarette hung from his lips until he spat it out mid-step and ground it into the pavement with his heel—never even breaking stride.

The whole walk, I felt it—eyes on me. They were watching him drag me like property, like a joke.

We slipped through the front entrance and into the hallway down the stairs.

I knew where we were going. I didn’t want to go there.

But Seongje didn’t care what I wanted.

We reached a door—Baekjin’s office.

Seongje kicked it open like it belonged to him and shoved me inside.

The room was dim, smoke still hanging faint in the air. Baekjin sat behind the desk, calm and unmoved, while Dong-ha and Seong-mok stood nearby, mid-conversation.

Everything stopped the second they saw me.

Baekjin’s eyes met mine.

My knees gave out.

I hit the floor hard.

“Didn’t think I could scare her that easy,” Seongje muttered, grinning as he stepped over me, like I was trash in his way.

I looked up.

Baekjin was still staring.

His face was expressionless. Not angry. Not surprised.

Just interested.

“Out,” Baekjin said softly.

Seong-mok and Dong-ha didn’t ask questions. They left quickly, closing the door behind them without a sound.

And then it was just us.

Seongje leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching me like a wolf with a rabbit in it’s mouth.

Baekjin stood slowly, pushing back from the desk like he had all the time in the world. His movements were precise.

He circled around and stopped in front of me.

I couldn’t meet his eyes.

I stared at his shoes instead. Shiny leather.

I couldn’t breathe.

He knelt.

I flinched.

Then his hand came down grabbing my jaw with cold fingers and forcing my face upward.

"Eyes on me," he said quietly.

I met his eyes.

And immediately regretted it.

There was nothing human in them.

He tilted his head, studying me like a piece of meat someone had delivered as a present.

“What do we have here…” he murmured. “You look smaller than I expected.”

Seongje laughed behind him. “She’s fun when she’s scared.”

Baekjin didn’t respond. He just kept looking at me.

Like I was something beneath him.

Like I couldn’t escape even if I tried.

And I knew nothing good was going to happen if I tried anything.

Baekjin let go of my jaw with a slow, almost thoughtful motion, like he was deciding whether I was worth the trouble or not. His hand lingered a second longer than it needed to, and then he patted my cheek.

Soft. Patronizing.

Like I was something to be pitied.

Then he stood, gaze never leaving me, and slid his fingers to his belt. The click of the buckle sent a shock down my spine.

“I want to see how good your mouth really is,” Baekjin said, voice like warm silk hiding something rotten underneath.

He wasn’t smiling.

Not really.

Just watching me—calculating.

Behind him, Seongje let out a twisted little laugh, pacing like he couldn’t sit still.

“She’s got talent,” he said, grinning like a madman. “Been rating it five stars all week.”

He tilted his head toward Baekjin and clicked his tongue. “You’re gonna love it. She tries so hard when she’s scared. Starts off all shaky, but the second you praise her? She melts.”

He leaned closer to my ear from behind.

“She lives for it.”

Baekjin’s eyes darkened with amusement. “Do you?”

His voice was quiet. Too quiet.

The kind of voice that made your skin crawl even though it never rose above a whisper.

“I think you do,” he murmured, letting the belt slide from his waistband. “Because girls like you... the ones who pretend they’re too good for this? You break so beautifully when someone tells you you’re doing a good job.”

His gaze dropped to my lips.

“You want that, don’t you? To be useful. To be told you’re perfect when you’re on your knees. Even when you’re full of shame.”

I stared at the floor, pulse racing in my throat.

“Look at her,” Seongje cackled. “You see that, right? She hates this. But she’s soaked. Probably didn’t even notice.”

He crouched beside me, his grin wide, manic, wrong. “I’d say she’s got a praise kink... but the degradation’s what really makes her squirm.”

Baekjin gave the faintest nod, like he was filing that detail away. Like I was a lab experiment reacting exactly as expected.

“This isn’t about what you want,” he said, leaning down, cold fingers brushing my jaw again. “It’s about what you're made for. And you, sweetheart?”

He bent lower, eyes locked on mine.

“You were made for this.”

I didn't move.

Not until I felt Seongje’s fingers thread into my hair from behind, yanking my head back just enough to make my eyes water.

“Come on,” he whispered against my ear, tone high and sharp like he was barely holding back a laugh. “You know the rules. Good girls don't wait to be told twice.”

“Show him,” he said louder, for Baekjin now. “Show him how well you’ve been trained.”

My hands moved before my brain caught up. My knees ached against the cold floor, and I felt heat crawling up my throat.

Baekjin didn’t stop me.

He just watched.

Like a predator watching a trapped animal make the inevitable choice.

Seongje laughed again, a short, breathless sound like he couldn’t believe how easy it was. “She’s perfect like this, isn’t she? Scared out of her mind, but still trying so hard to be good.”

Baekjin tilted his head, still watching me with that same cold curiosity. “It’s fascinating,” he said. “How humiliation makes you obedient.”

His hand brushed my cheek.

Not gentle.

Just possessive.

“You want to be useful, don’t you?” he asked. “Want to be praised. Even when you’re on your knees, you want someone to tell you you’re doing well.”

Baekjin stood over me, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the floor. His eyes, cold remained fixed on my face. The belt dangled from his fingers, a silent threat and promise.

"Go on then," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Show me what that clever mouth of yours can really do. And don't leave out a single inch."

Behind me, Seongje laughed—low and dangerous, his voice bouncing off the walls like a warning. He fisted a hand in my hair, yanking my head back to bare the vulnerable column of my throat. Then he crouched behind me, close enough for his breath to graze my skin. 

"Fuck, I love watching her choke on it," he crowed, eyes wild with sadistic glee. "Especially since she acts all high and mighty at. Makes it so much sweeter when she gives in."

Baekjin's gaze never left mine as he slowly undid his fly, the sound of the zipper seeming to echo in the charged silence. He pulled out his cock, already hard and heavy in his hand.

"Open," he ordered.

My lips parted on a shaky breath, and he took that as the invitation it was. He pressed the swollen head of his cock against my mouth, smearing the salty precum across my bottom lip.

"That's it," he encouraged, voice low and rough, like gravel crunching under tires. "Take it in. Show me how well you can follow orders."

Seongje chuckled darkly from behind me, a sound that sent chills down my spine. "Fuck, I can't wait to see her gag on it," he said, voice dripping with twisted anticipation. "She's got such a pretty throat. I bet it's going to look even better stretched around your cock."

Baekjin ignored him, his attention solely focused on my face, on the way my lips parted wider as he pressed forward, pushing his thick length past my teeth and onto my tongue.

"Relax your throat," he instructed. It was gentle. Like he wanted me to do well, to please him.

I tried. I swallowed around him

Baekjin groaned, a low, approving sound as he felt my throat constrict around his length. "That's it," he praised, voice rough with pleasure. "You're a natural at this, aren't you? Born to be on your knees, choking on cock."

Seongje let out a high, manic laugh, still gripping my hair tight enough to make my eyes water. "You see that, Baek? She fucking loves it. Pretending to be all reluctant, but her throat's sucking you in like she can't get enough."

Baekjin started to move, thrusting shallowly at first, letting me adjust to the thick intrusion stretching my mouth. His free hand came up to grip my chin, holding me in place as he began to fuck into my face with more purpose.

"Look at me," he demanded, voice tight with concentration. "I want to see your eyes when you choke on my cock."

Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes as he hit the back of my throat, his length pulsing, twitching against my tongue. I gagged around him, throat convulsing, but he didn't let up. If anything, he seemed spurred on by my distress, fucking my face with harder, deeper strokes.

"Fuck, she's gripping me so tight," Baekjin grunted, hips pumping faster. "Her throat's like a fucking vice."

Saliva dripped down my chin as he used my mouth, my body, for his pleasure. Drool pooled on my lap, soaking into the fabric of my skirt as he fucked my face with brutal intensity. Seongje's grip on my hair never loosened, holding me in place as Baekjin took his pleasure.

"Don't forget to breathe through your nose," Seongje mocked, voice breathless with sadistic amusement. "Wouldn't want you passing out before he's done using that talented throat of yours."

Baekjin just snorted, the sound almost drowned out by the wet, obscene noises of him pounding into my mouth. The room filled with the scent of sex and the taste of him, thick and heavy on my tongue.

"Fuck, I'm close," he growled, voice strained. "Gonna fucking cum right down your throat.”

Baekjin slammed his hips forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt in my throat as his cock jerked and pulsed. Thick, hot ropes of cum shot down my throat, choking me, forcing me to swallow.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, head thrown back in pleasure as he emptied directly into my stomach. "Take it all, you fucking cock slut."

As suddenly as it began, it was over. Baekjin pulled out, his softening cock slipping from my abused lips with a wet pop. A strand of cum connected the swollen head to my mouth before breaking, dangling obscenely on my chin.

He smiled then, a twisted mockery of a genuine smile, more like the baring of teeth than anything else. His eyes glinted with a dark, satisfied light as he looked at the mess he created.

"Beautiful," he purred, voice like honey laced with poison. "You look so perfect like this.  You're really something special, aren't you?"

Seongje didn’t give me a second to catch my breath. He had me by the hair, his fingers twisted deep in the strands as he dragged me up, yanking me forward. I stumbled, catching myself on the edge of the metal desk that dominated the back of the office, the cold surface biting into my palms. I barely had time to catch my balance before he spun me around and lifted me onto the edge of the desk. My thighs clenched against the cool steel as he stepped between them.

"I've been waiting for this." he growled.

His voice was low, razor-sharp.

“For what?” I asked.

His hand slid up under my skirt, slow and possessive, until he hooked his fingers in my underwear and pulled them down with deliberate precision. “Waiting for you to fuck up, to give me a reason to put this pussy in its place."”

He unbuckled his belt with practiced ease, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he freed himself, gripping his cock at the base, spitting into his palm before stroking once.

“You ready, baby?” he asked, voice dripping with cruel affection. “already wet like a filthy little whore.” 

Seongje didn’t wait for permission.

With one sharp thrust, he buried himself inside me, thick and unrelenting, forcing a gasp from my throat that shattered the silence. The metal desk beneath me groaned with the force, the cold surface biting into my skin as my thighs trembled against his hips.

“Fuck,” he growled against my neck, his breath hot and ragged. “You feel like a fucking dream—tight, wet, and so fucking needy. I bet you were waiting for this, weren’t you? Waiting for me to use you like the little cum dump you are.”

His hands gripped my hips with bruising strength, slamming me back onto him again and again, each thrust harder than the last. My body jolted with the rhythm, spine arching involuntarily as pleasure twisted violently with shame. 

“That’s right,” he whispered, dragging his teeth along the shell of my ear. “Take it like a good little slut. This pussy was made to be ruined.”

Behind him, I could hear a slow breath.

Baekjin.

He was lounging on the couch like he owned the room, one hand lazily stroking his cock, eyes glued to where Seongje was splitting me open on the desk.

“Fuck,” Baekjin murmured, his voice thick with lust. “She looks so fucking perfect like that—stuffed full and shaking. You breaking her in good or do you need help?”

Seongje chuckled, low and cruel. “She’s dripping around me like a bitch in heat. She’ll be cock-drunk in a few.”

I whimpered, shame burning across my cheeks as Seongje fucked me harder—deeper—his cock dragging against every spot inside me like he was mapping me from the inside out. His hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat.

“You hear that?” he hissed into my ear. “He’s watching you. Jerking off to the way I use you. You like being put on display, you fucking whore?”

My moan gave me away.

Baekjin groaned from the couch. “Goddamn… she just clenched around you.”

“Of course she did,” Seongje spat, slapping his hips hard against mine. “She loves being degraded. Don’t you, baby? You love when we treat you like nothing more than a wet little hole.”

“Say it,” Baekjin called out, his strokes getting faster. “Say you love being used.”

Seongje wrapped a hand around my throat—not tight, just enough to make me feel the heat of his dominance. “Go on,” he growled. “Let him hear you.”

“I—I love it,” I gasped, my voice cracking. “Love being used.”

Seongje’s groan was primal. He slammed into me so deep I saw stars, his breath breaking against the side of my neck.

“Good fucking girl.” He said as he finished inside of me.

He pulled out with a filthy squelch, a trail of slick clinging to his cock as he stepped back. My body collapsed onto the metal desk—used, aching, shaking. I didn’t even get the chance to exhale before his hand gripped my jaw and turned my head toward the couch.

Baekjin was watching.

His dark eyes never blinked, his cock stroking lazily in one hand. His lips were parted slightly, breath uneven, his face was flushed with arousal.

He stood up slowly and circled the desk, his bare chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. I could hear the slick rhythm of his hand as he walked—slow, teasing strokes down his length as he approached the chair opposite the desk.

He sat.

Spread his legs.

And smiled.

“Come here, baby,” he said softly. Like he was inviting me into his lap for a hug. “Climb up and sit on my cock.”

My throat tightened.

I didn’t move.

He tilted his head, voice still soft. “Don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart. You’ve already let him fuck you like a cheap little toy. You gonna pretend you’ve got any dignity left?”

Behind me, Seongje laughed—cruel, sharp. “She’s too fucked out to pretend anything.”

Baekjin reached down, stroking the tip of his cock with his thumb, smearing precum over the flushed head. His voice dropped lower, breathier.

“Come on, princess,” he cooed. “Be a good girl.”

The sweetness in his tone made the filth hit harder. It felt like being stroked with too much care—like a mouse in someone’s palm.

I slid off the desk.

Stumbled.

I dropped to my knees, breathless, my legs too shaky to hold me after the way Seongje had fucked every ounce of strength out of me. 

Baekjin watched me crawl to him, pupils dilated, the corners of his mouth twitching with delight.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “So messy already. All stretched out and leaking all over my floor.”

I reached him—shaking, breathless.

He patted his thigh gently. “Up. That’s it. Come ride me like a good little slut.”

I climbed into his lap.

His cock pressed against my entrance.

But he didn’t thrust up.

Didn’t grip me.

He looked me in the eyes and whispered:

“You do it.”

My lips parted.

“I want you to fuck yourself on me,” he said, so gently it made my stomach flip. “Because you need it, don’t you? Need to be filled again. Need someone to remind you you’re nothing but a greedy little whore.”

I whimpered—but I obeyed.

Slowly, I sank down, inch by inch, until he was fully inside me.

He let out a soft sigh, as if I was the most relaxing thing in the world.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Nice and full again. Just like you’re supposed to be.”

His hands smoothed over my thighs, deceptively gentle as he started guiding my hips.

“Bounce for me, baby,” he said, kissing the corner of my jaw. “Let me feel how tight this filthy little cunt still is.”

And I did.

Because his voice made it impossible not to.

Each movement dragged him deeper, his soft groans filling my ear like praise turned poison.

“You’re doing so well,” he breathed. “So fucking good for us. Just a pretty little thing who likes being passed around and filled up.”

He kissed my throat.

“Such a sweet, obedient little slut.”

My moan cracked in the back of my throat as I trembled in his lap.

Baekjin’s hands tightened on my waist, his breath suddenly harsh, uneven.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned softly, voice still wrapped in silk even as his cock twitched inside me. “You feel too fucking good. This perfect pussy, all warm and stretched and used up—like it’s begging to be bred.”

My body seized at the words. And he felt it.

“Yeah,” he cooed, thrusting up gently once, twice—deeper than before, slower. “You want that, don’t you? Want me to fill you up?”

His voice dipped into something darker.

“My cum inside you. Leaking down your thighs when you walk out of here.”

I gasped, nails digging into his shoulders—but I didn’t stop him.

I couldn’t.

His grip tightened.

“Say thank you,” he whispered against my lips.

“T-Thank you,” I choked.

And then he came.

A deep, guttural moan spilled from his throat as his cock throbbed inside me, thick warmth pulsing into me in slow, possessive waves. He held me down—buried to the hilt—as if he wanted every drop to stay inside.

I barely registered the moment Baekjin pulled out—his cum thick and warm as it spilled out of me, dripping down my thighs and onto the floor. My body gave out, slumping boneless against him, my mind fogged and flickering at the edges.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” Seongje said, voice low . Baekjin didn’t speak at first, he just reached out brushing your hair from your face with a tenderness that made your breath catch. His eyes lingered on you, dark and certain. “He’s not wrong,” he said softly. “You’re breathtaking like this.” 

fin

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