#block button is right there who give a shit

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Me posting: HEY!! I LOVE SPAM LIKERS!!! LOVE TO SEE YOU AROUND!!! FANDOM IS A COMMUNITY AND WE ARE SHARING THIS SPACE TOGETHER AND ITS FUN AND GREAT AND MAKES ME SMILE!!! AND PEOPLE PUTTING STUFF IN THE TAGS?? I SEE YOU TOO AND I LOVE YOU AND-

Me reblogging: Ohhh I'm so sorry for the spam tags oohhhh :( I'm so sorry I'm such a nuisance sometimes oh noes I'm sorry it will happen again and the spam liking is such a bad habit and oh no-

I'm wondering if someone hits me on the head hard enough if I'll go back to not giving a shit. Because this is Tumblr. Who give a shit?

This is your reminder that if you love to see it, then you should let yourself give it too. Anxiety can go suck one.

[kavehater]

JDIEOSKS WHY DOES EVERY PERSON WHO HAVE THE ALIAS LEXI OR WHATEVER SS WITH KAVEH

[gloomwitchwrites]

secret baby trope with tf141? 😌😌

Anon! OH. MY. GOOOOOD. I love this. I love this. I love this. Secret baby? Yes, please. I adore this trope. I bow down to you for requesting this. I don't know who you are but I wish that I did. I can absolutely get behind a secret baby trope. I actually read a book recently that was a bit like that and I enjoyed it so so much.

I had an absolute blast putting this one together. Seriously. You totally indulged me here. Thank you!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, stalking, possessive behavior, second chances, pregnancy / unplanned pregnancy, parenthood, reunions, light angst

Word Count: 2.3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle relaxes further into the couch. The air around him is slightly smoky.

He brings his vape to his lips and takes a hit. The action is calming, and that’s exactly what he wants. Kyle is rotting, and it feels fucking good.

Between missions, Kyle is always somewhere, but right not there is no reason for him to do anything. He can relax. He can watch reality television, eat himself to sickness, and wank off until his wrist hurts.

It’s bloody fucking brilliant.

Kyle isn’t attached. He has no kids. The only responsibility required of him is the one he has to himself. Which is why he’s splayed out on the couch in nothing but grey sweatpants and his vape. The television is on, and the volume is low. It’s mostly for background noise. Kyle isn’t really paying attention to it.

With a vape in one hand and his phone in the other, Kyle scrolls through his contacts. There are all the usual people there, but there are also a slew of general acquaintances and a long list of people he’s had it off with but never took anything further.

He pauses at one name, and old memories resurface.

They just happen upon him. Kyle doesn’t drag them up from the depths. They linger there, and Kyle remembers all the fun he had with you.

You were just a small fling. A few lengthy but deliciously good fucks that tops most of the sex he’s ever had in his life. There have been times since he last saw you—over a year now—that Kyle has thought about what could have been.

You were sweet. A potential partner. But Kyle didn’t follow through. He would regret it, but things can’t be taken back. There is no turning back the clock to change what has already occurred.

Kyle’s thumb hovers above the screen.

He shouldn’t. He really fucking shouldn’t.

But he does. Because why not?

Switching over apps, Kyle starts scrolling social media. He doesn’t usually give a shit about what’s happening in people’s lives, but he is curious about you. What are you up to? What are you doing? If you’re not attached, maybe he could call you up, rekindle what was once there.

You don’t have him blocked on anything—thank fuck—and Kyle delves into your socials, exploring your life. At first, the small infant in your arms is nothing to him, but then the tiny human keeps reappearing, and Kyle pauses.

Kyle scrolls a bit more. And stops.

Just three—no—four months ago, there are a slew of friends and family congratulating you on the birth of your son.

Your…son.

Kyle thinks back. Does the math in his head.

“Fuck,” he mutters, sitting up, gaze glued on the screen.

He scrolls back, studying every photo where your son is featured. Kyle’s heart slams in his chest. The features Kyle sees are features he sees every time he looks in the mirror.

“Fucking hell,” groans Kyle, the phone nearly slipping from his hands as he slumps back against the couch.

Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you contact him?

The very thought of you not reaching out doesn’t sit well with him. It sits heavy in his stomach.

“Fuck,” says Kyle, switching over to his contacts.

He finds Simon’s number and taps the call button.

It rings on the other end, and Kyle doesn’t think that he’ll answer. But he does.

“Kyle,” comes Simon’s gruff voice.

Kyle sighs. “I need you to track someone down for me.”

John Price

John doesn’t like cutting off contact with people.

He likes to keep in touch, even if it’s just an acquaintance. But things happen, like a fucked phone with no way to retrieve contacts, and the only people he’s able to retrieve are those he sees on a regular basis.

Your number is gone. And John has no way to get it back.

Legally that is. He could try and find you in the system. What information he has is minimal, but then again, the two of you only had a one-night stand. He’s prone to it since he’s never in one place. Always moving around.

John would like to settle down one day, but his work is his life, and it just doesn’t seem possible to have a family and be consistent with them when he’s constantly called away.

He chews it over while sitting in his office. It’s late, and there isn’t anyone else here but him. Late nights like this are calming to him—a time to process away from the events of the day. John has your first name, where you might live, and a general idea of what your number is. But he isn’t certain, and it’s hardly enough to go on.

Sighing, deciding he’d rather find you than not, John turns on his computer. It takes a while to get the classified systems he has access to. No one tracks what he does on here, and no one will think twice if they do happen to look. John runs lots of names and faces through this system.

John waits. Ponders. Enters in different spellings and every possible clue to try and seek you out. With every new search, John begins to lose hope. He might be completely fucked. Completely at a loss.

If this doesn’t work, he might not ever see you again. And for some goddamn reason, that bothers him.

He tries one last time, expecting nothing, only for his heart to drop into his stomach,

“There you are,” he murmurs, leaning forward, gaze sweeping over your passport photo.

Grabbing a piece of paper, John jots down your phone number and current address. He also notes your top place of employment. You might not be there anymore, but that isn’t an issue. He has enough.

John shuts off his computer and grabs his coat. He’ll try to reach out first by phone and go from there.

“You have the wrong number, bud.”

The man’s southern drawl irks John. “You sure?”

“Yeah I’m fucking sure. Quit calling.”

John frowns as the line goes dead. The number on file isn’t recent.

“Fuck,” mutters John, running his hand through his hair.

This is getting him nowhere. The only other option is showing up at your home or place of employment, but he can’t do that unless he’s on scheduled leave. That’s months away.

And each month is fucking agony.

When John finally makes it to your front door, nervousness sets in. This is completely fucking weird. Who the fuck shows up at someone’s door months after a one-night stand? Him apparently.

But fuck it. He’s here.

Either he does this and things go great, or things go to shit and he doesn’t need to worry about it anymore.

John takes a deep breath, and then pounds on the door. He takes a step back, hands in his pockets as he waits. There is a stretch of silence, and then he hears it—the turn of a deadbolt.

The door swings open, and there you are, just as beautiful from when he first saw you. At first, your brow scrunches in confusion, and then your eyes widen.

“John,” you breathe.

He smiles, and then his gaze drops as your hand moves away from the doorknob to land on your stomach. Your belly is round. Protruding. You’re—oh shit.

“Is that—”

“Yours?”

Fuck.

John glances up into your eyes and swallows.

You shift on your feet, one hand resting against the doorframe.

“It is,” you confirm.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shouldn’t. Really—it’s fucked up. Wrong.

But he does it anyway because there is no fucking way he’s letting you go even if he has to watch from afar.

He’s done a lot of things he isn’t proud of, and losing you is near the top of the list. Not that he blames you for breaking it off. You had every right. Simon is always gone. Always away. And he rarely thought of you when he came home.

Communication can be a difficult thing for him. He knows this, and yet he couldn’t make an effort to do better with you. It wounds him. It does. Like a sharp blade to the gut.

But that is secondary now. Simon has dismissed it.

Sure, you’re not truly his now, but you’ll come back to him. He’ll make sure of it.

In the dark, Simon watches. Before him is a slew of screens and all of them show different angles of your home. Simon also has your phone tapped, and in another window, he can lurk through your messages and emails.

It’s where he first learned you were pregnant.

You know, and haven’t told him. Haven’t reached out in the slightest. Simon has to see all the results and tests come back via your email. He has to log into your medical portal to access specific things which is goddamn frustrating but he needs to know.

You are fucking pregnant. With his child.

It’s growing in your belly.

Even through the camera feed, Simon can see the swell of your stomach. He wants to be there, to stand beside you, and rest his hand against it. He wants to feel his son kick. Because you are carrying his son in your belly. Simon saw the results.

It’s fucking painful watching you like this.

He’s stayed away for a bit. Not engaging.

But you’ve broken it off before, and came back eventually.

Simon just needs an in again. All he has to do is figure it out, and then he can put away these fucking screens and surveillance. He can be by your side and be there when you give birth.

Leaning back in his chair, Simon observes every screen, his palm rubbing against his thigh as he considered his options.

He has to play this right.

He has to.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Do you think you’ll ever find your woman again?”

Johnny grins behind his pint glass. “If she’s here,” he replies.

The beer is perfectly cold and goes down easily. It’s refreshing since it’s so bloody hot outside.

Johnny didn’t think he’d ever come back to the little seaside town. He came between missions—a way to relax and get away for a bit. With only a few hundred residents, it seemed like the perfect place. What he didn’t expect was to meet a woman that upended his fatigue and made him glow a little brighter.

He learned your name while exploring a local pub. You were a pretty thing. Caught Johnny’s eye immediately. With several beers fueling him, Johnny struck up a conversation, and you were receptive to his charm—melting like butter over fresh toast.

That evening, the two of you jumped from pub to pub, having a bloody good time. It was fucking magical. Afterward, the two of you ventured back to Johnny’s hotel room. But the two of you didn’t have sex. It wasn’t until the next morning that Johnny actually fucked you.

Johnny had presented himself, you slid right into his arms. The hotel bed was well-used. There wasn’t a moment after that Johnny didn’t have his dick inside you. He kept you full and screaming his name for an entire fucking week.

But when that week was up, the two of you parted ways. You gave Johnny your number, and for a couple months, you were consistent in your texts and phone calls. Then it all changed, and you began to contact him less frequently.

Eventually, you didn’t talk to Johnny at all.

He was hurt at first. He tried to reach out. But Johnny didn’t hear a thing—and he left you to it. Maybe someone else arrived into your life. Johnny can respect that even if he doesn’t exactly like it.

It sucked then. And it still pains him a bit now. Johnny liked you when you left—and if he’s being entirely honest with himself—he still fucking likes you.

Maybe you’ll be here. Maybe you won’t.

Kyle is with him this time. A guy’s trip. Price isn’t one for vacations, and Simon has his own shit going on.

“We could try that pub again,” suggests Kyle. “See if she’s there.”

Johnny shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Did she live here?” asks Kyle.

Johnny nods. “Aye. Sure did.”

Kyle bobs his head. “We’ll find her.”

The two of them sit outside a small pub. The air is laced with salt from the ocean, and the sun is out, shining bright. It’s hot, but it’s a beautiful fucking day.

Johnny hums in agreement, bringing his pint glass back to his lips. For a moment, Johnny glances away from Kyle, looking out across the road where people walk along the pavement. He frowns.

Is that?

No. Can’t be.

His focus becomes a tunnel, and all he can see is the woman across the road. It’s you. There is no doubt. He knows that body, that hair and smile. You haven’t changed all that much. Not really.

There is another woman with you—a friend that Johnny met briefly before you and him went off on your own.

But that isn’t what has Johnny’s attention.

You’ve turned, and Johnny can see a swell to your stomach. Your hand cradles it affectionately.

“What is it?” asks Kyle, but his voice is distant.

“That’s her,” murmurs Johnny, his pint glass lowering back to the table.

You don’t see him. You’re chatting with your friend, features animated. The curve in your stomach is fairly large, and a deep twisting in his stomach arises, moving toward his throat.

“Oh fuck,” says Johnny as Kyle shifts to look in the direction Johnny is staring.

“Is that?”

“It fucking is.”

“She’s fucking pregnant.”

Johnny swallows. “Aye.”

He doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s likely the fucking truth. The baby is probably his. No wonder you stopped talking to him. Maybe you thought it best to cut off contact when you found out.

But that doesn’t sit right with him either. If you had told him, Johnny could have been there for you sooner—not finding out like this.

You throw your head back and laugh, playfully hitting your friend’s arm as she says something funny. When you wipe at your face, clearing tears, your gaze shifts, and all the humor leaves your face.

You’re staring right at Johnny.

And he’s staring back.

taglist:

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@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

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@whisperwispxx @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @arrozyfrijoles23

[strangerstilinski]

can you pretty please do [intimidation] with eddie

🥺👉👈

[INTIMIDATION] sender, in an effort to frighten the receiver by invading their personal space, sits in their lap to try and inspire discomfort or fear in them.

cw: alcohol consumption, fem!reader, sort of enemies -> lovers (but actually idiots -> lovers), 2.4k

dividers by @strangergraphics

You're blocking the doorway into the Harrington kitchen, shoulder leaned against the wood panelling where you have a good view into the living room. Your unimpressed glare is drawn from the figure currently hogging the sofa when someone bumps into you just as you're bringing the plastic cup in your hand to your lips.

"Jesus, fucking watch it-" The outrage in your tone fades quick when you see who's run into you.

"Sorry." Jonathan grimaces as he watches you wipe a bit of juice and vodka from your chin.

"No, it's fine," You sigh and turn on your heel, following Jonathan into the kitchen as he begins to grab things to make himself a drink, though it appears to be far more lemon-lime soda and grenadine than anything else. "Sorry, I just.. I dunno, sorry." You shrug before gulping down another mouthful of your own admittedly strong drink. You're kind of hoping that once your buzz kicks in you'll feel just a little less like there's a storm cloud floating right above your head.

"What is with you, tonight?" Jonathan asks with an overly cautious smile, "I haven't seen Munson bug you even once, so it's gotta be somethin' else-"

"Nothing," You huff, a little defensive at just the mention of the other boy, "I'm fine."

"Oh yeah, totally," Jonathan chuckles and raises his newly acquired drink in a salute, "You're like a ray of sunshine tonight."

It's annoying as hell, but he's right. You're fuming and Eddie has yet to even speak to you. He's been avoiding you like the plague from the moment you walked through the door, as if Eddie could somehow sense that you were already in a mood, and he didn't feel like getting told off for being the reason that you finally snapped.

Because normally, Eddie would've found at least seven ways he could irritate you by now. He'd have finished the last of the juice he saw you eyeing for your next mixed drink and laughed maniacally when you pouted about it. He'd have pestered you about whether you might want to join in on another campaign, all while making a handful of little comments about just how easy it'll be for him to decimate your character when you do. He'd have watched you shiver while you passed passed a joint back and forth by the pool, and then draped his stupid jacket around your shoulders just so he could roll his eyes and give you shit about not dressing warmly enough.

Eddie was infuriating — And the worst part was that he knew it. The asshole thrived on pushing buttons and testing people's limits, but tonight evidently he'd been able to tell that you were already toeing dangerously close to yours and had steered clear altogether.

You peer back out into the living room now, narrowed eyes zeroing back in on the figure sprawled across the entire length of the loveseat, socked feet kicked up on the opposite cushion where someone else could be sitting if he weren't such a selfish prick.

"God, what an asshole." You grumble, downing the last of your drink and grabbing the nearest bottle to begin mixing another. "I mean, look at him, seriously. Does he have to take up the whole couch?"

Jonathan's gaze follows the path your own had taken moments before, and he snorts in amusement, "Eddie."

It's not a question, but you answer him as if it had been.

"Yes, Eddie." Another quick glance up into the living room has your eyes locking with the man in question just as his name falls from your lips.

Eddie's eyes go wide, his cheeks dimpling with his sudden grin. He jabs his index finger into his chest, lips moving silently around the words, "Who? Me?"

"Uh-huh.. Why don't you go do something about it?" Jonathan teases.

Eddie's attention is pulled away when Gareth says something from his spot in an armchair. Whatever he says it gets Eddie riled up and he's immediately talking animatedly, hands gesturing wildly as he speaks.

"Maybe I will." You're already moving with purpose, halfway out of the kitchen when you hear your friend shout after you.

"I was joking!"

"Well I'm not!" You call back over your shoulder.

It's darker as you step into the living room, overhead lights off in favor of utilizing the warmer glow from the the lamp tucked away in the corner. You have to step over Eddie's discarded shoes at the foot of the sofa, and the boy very nearly knocks your drink out of your hand when you step in front of him, too distracted by his own tirade to have seen your approach.

But his head snaps up toward you as your thigh brushes his arm. Whatever he's been saying, the words cut off abruptly at the realization of who it is standing beside him.

"Well hey there, princess." He shoots you a toothy grin — You assume it's meant to be charming, but it only irritates you further. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

You ignore Eddie in favor of casting a small smile of apology toward Gareth, "Sorry to interrupt."

"Nah, no worrie-"

"No, no! You didn't interrupt. We were done." Eddie cuts his friend off, "Gareth was just telling me he was gonna go take a piss, actually."

Gareth splutters for a moment, but when his eyes shift from you to Eddie he's suddenly rising from his chair. You watch Gareth shake his head as he steps around you before he stalks off without a word.

"What was that about?" You can't help but ask in curiosity.

"Beats me. Really had to piss, I guess." Eddie says quickly, sitting up a little straighter against the arm of the couch. He throws an arm out to gesture to Gareth's recently vacated chair, "Did you wanna-"

Rather than taking advantage of the empty seat, you plop yourself across Eddie's thighs unceremoniously, feeling oddly satisfied by the huff of surprise that escapes him when your weight is suddenly in his lap.

The way the warmth of his body seeps into your own is near immediate, even through two layers of denim. Your arm presses into his chest as you lean back into the cushion of the sofa, trying and failing to remain unaffected by his proximity. He smells infuriatingly good this close, clean and masculine with just a lingering hint of the weed he'd smoked earlier in the night. It makes your stomach flutter wildly, makes your head swim for half a second before you're lifting your cup to your mouth in an effort to compose yourself.

Eddie huffs softly and his breath fans out over your exposed shoulder, warm and smelling faintly of cheap beer and menthols. Goosebumps prickle along the length of your arm, hairs standing on end suddenly. You wish you could convince yourself that your body's reaction were one of repulsion, but deep down you know that its something far, far worse than that.

"You.. You're just gonna.. sit.. here?" Eddie asks, voice a little wobbly, unsure.

His knuckles brush your thigh, likely an accident, but one sidelong glare has his hand retreating to the relative safety of the couch cushion in a flash.

"Yep."

You can see outside to the patio from your position, and you focus your attention to the group sitting with their feet in the pool. The sheer amount of effort it takes to keep your eyes trained there, rather than allowing them to drift to where Eddie's hand twitches near your knee-

"Do- Did you want me to move my legs? Do you want-" He shifts underneath you like he's ready to pull his feet from the cushion at the other end, but you remain resolutely in place.

"Nope, I'm good."

You have absolutely no plans of moving any time soon. You'd remain seated right here in Eddie's lap until his bladder was ready to burst, until your weight made his legs fall asleep and tingle from lack of blood flow, until he was ready to grab you by your hips and force you into another seat.

He'd learn his lesson. The inconsiderate couch-hogging asshole.

"O..kay." Eddie says slowly, wiping his palm on the side of his own denim-clad hip, as if his hands might've gotten a little sweaty.

Were you making him warm? Good.

"So.." Eddie pauses. You catch a glimpse of his face scrunching in thought at the corners of your vision before he continues, "Any big plans for the weekend?"

With how close you're sat, Eddie is speaking almost directly into your ear. There's no need for him to raise his voice to be heard, and you find that the low rumble of it is nice, soothing almost. It curls around your ears and sends something warm shooting down your spine.

"Killing boys." You return dryly, eyes straining now in an effort to remain focussed on what's going on in the backyard.

Eddie snorts, body jolting underneath you with his amusement — And his almost-laughter absolutely does not make your chest flush with pride. You couldn't care less whether or not Eddie Munson finds you funny. As if.

"Oh, so nothing out of the ordinary for you then."

Eddie chuckles and the tip of his thumb finds its way to the place where your thigh presses into his. You can't tell if it's accidental or on purpose, but the gentle press of his finger maybe kind of makes your stomach flip pleasantly, so you allow it. Whatever.

You hum in agreement, "Yeah, well. There's almost always some boy who deserves it."

"I don't doubt it," Eddie murmurs with a wide grin, his head tipped sideways over the back of the couch, cheek nearly brushing your shoulder now, "Anyone I know currently at the top of your list, madame assassin?"

"There is this one asshole." You pause to take a sip of your drink, fighting off a grimace at the awful liquor to juice ratio. "He's loud. And irritating. Just loves getting on my last nerve-"

"Long hair?"

The interruption has your eyes rolling, "Yep. Walks around looking like some Van Halen wannabe."

"Oh, he sounds cool."

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice now.

"Well he's not." You return blankly. "He's always trying to get a rise outta me, acting like a total prick-"

"Hold on, hold on-" Eddie cuts you off again, "Now I'm not so sure we're on the same page. Thought I knew who you were talkin' about, but-"

"Oh, you know him." You grumble, sinking farther into the plush cushion on the back of the couch with your drink clutched to your chest. "You know him well, trust me."

Eddie shifts beneath you, angling both himself and you until he's taking up more of your line of sight than the patio doors. His big brown eyes bore into you until you crack and flick your gaze toward him.

"Here's the thing.." Eddie starts, the pad of his thumb stroking the seam on the outside of your knee. "Maybe this guy's just pushing your buttons because he likes when all of your attention is on him-"

The arm he has thrown over the back of the couch by your shoulder moves then, brushing your hair back from your temple only to backtrack and trail the pads of his fingers featherlight over the space between your brows.

"-Maybe.. Shit, I dunno, maybe he likes the way your eyebrows come together when you're angry-"

Your heart is beating so loud you can hear the blood pumping in your ears. The urge to fidget under his attention is strong, but you sit at still as possible in fear of breaking the spell. You have to strain to hear Eddie's next words over the dull whoosh of your heartbeat echoing in your skull.

"Maybe he thinks you look kinda devastatingly beautiful-"

"You-" And, fuck. Did your voice just crack? "You're trying to tell me you think this guy is, what? Being a dick because he likes me? Pulling my pigtails on the playground and shit?"

Eddie's grin is less cocky than you've ever seen it. His lips twitch at one side of his mouth. He almost looks nervous.

You take a deep breath as his fingers skim over your jaw on their way back toward your hair, where he pinches a small lock between two fingers and tugs twice, oh-so gentle.

"What if he was?" Eddie asks softly, "Being a dick because he likes you, I mean."

"I'd tell you he's an idiot." You manage, plastic cup crinkling under the increased pressure of your hand.

Eddie winces, but nods and averts his gaze. His arm falls to the back to the sofa again, close enough for you to feel the warmth of it beside your shoulder.

"But.." You have to swallow down a smile when Eddie's wide eyes snap right back to yours. "Maybe this idiot's attraction isn't totally one-sided. So, maybe he should stop being an asshole and try making a move."

Eddie blinks. Once, then twice. He squares his shoulders and leans in like he might kiss you, but then he backs off again and searches your eyes as if he's terrified he might be reading the entire situation wrong.

"Eddie." You whisper sharply, "The idiot is you, asshole."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, thank god."

And then his fingers are curled gently around the back of your neck. His hand is fully grasping your opposite thigh as he tries to drag you impossibly closer. His plush lips are pressing softly into your own, the taste of beer mixing with vodka and citrus.

It's a quick kiss, chaste. Your mouths only remain glued together for all of three seconds before he's leaning back just enough to watch you blink at him from beneath heavy lashes. You can't imagine how stupidly docile you look; brows pushed up your forehead, chest nearly heaving beneath your shirt, jaw slack, lips parted and waiting for more. It's pathetic how he's managed to turn you into this with just one G-Rated kiss.

The hand on the back of your neck moves to your face, fingertips tracing the smooth line of your brow before trailing back down to cup your cheek.

"Yeah.. Yeah, this is nice too." Eddie murmurs, "You're awful pretty when you're mad, but this.. This right here is somethin' else."

"You're so annoying." It comes out airy, absolutely no bite to your words.

"Oh, that's not changing, sweetheart. Matter of fact, I think it's a part of our spark. Gotta keep the fire burning, right? I'll keep annoying you, you'll keep getting angry-"

"Would you just shut up and kiss me again?"

Eddie grins, already leaning in, "Sure thing."

[sanguineterrain]

restroom attendant | jason todd

Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.

A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)

the divider

Tonight sucks. 

With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years. 

Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.

You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you. 

You’re starting to think this city is cursed.

The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.

A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily. 

Yep. Definitely cursed.

"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."

He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress. 

"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor. 

"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”

“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”

“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"

Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs. 

"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."

Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper. 

Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.

“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”

“No,” you say, voice shaky.

His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”

Red Hood gives the room a onceover. 

“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails. 

“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.” 

“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse. 

“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”

Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet. 

“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”

“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask. 

Hood jerks, turning back to you.

“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”

You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”

He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers. 

“How come?” Hood asks.

You shake your head. “It's nothing.”

“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”

“I'm not in danger. I…”

You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.

What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry. 

“I got dumped,” you say. 

“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”

Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.

You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”

You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.

“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”

“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling. 

“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach. 

“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.

Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”

You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles. 

Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”

You catch your breath and wave your hand. 

“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”

“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”

You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.

“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”

You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”

“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”

“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face. 

“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”

Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.

“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”

You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”

“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”

You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”

“You’d win that bet. But I—”

The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you. 

“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”

Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.” 

He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”

Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”

He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit. 

You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you. 

Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.

“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”

“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”

“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.

“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”

“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”

He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper. 

“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”

Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.

“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”

Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes. 

Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in. 

You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.

“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu. 

“I didn’t order this,” you say.

“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.” 

“Oh. Thank you.”

You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.

[cheriden]

「 my "i love you" 」 | pt. 2 。。。

He maneuvers to block your path, grip on your arms bordering painful. “I love you–”

“You’re drunk.” You hiss, nails digging into his shoulders as you drag him to the front door. “You don’t even want to hear what I have to say?” Huffing, you gather his things together and shove them to his chest.

── synopsis 。Your best friend with benefits seeks clarity on your relationship

pairing 。switch!top choi beomgyu x f! reader

.ᐟ genre 。angst, smut, fluff

.ᐟ tags 。fwb to lovers, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), overstimulation, arguing, pet names, frotting, a lot of kissing, breeding, idk what else

.ᐟ status & word count 。two-parts | 3.54k

part 1 | part 2

.ᐟ warnings/notes 。not proofread, sorry this took so long. enjoy!

Droplets fall rapidly against your windowsill, thunder clapping when the lightning’s glow hits Beomgyu’s face—highly alluring as his muddy puppy eyes drown in yours so intensely, so vast.

It makes you feel like absolute shit.

Your stomach bubbles over as you wrap your hands around his, retracting them from its hold on your face. It’s heavier without it. He looks at you in concern, confused at your end goal.

He’s patient, oh so patient. It almost makes you seethe with anger at how much he still doesn’t understand. Giving up with a sigh, you look away from him. “Is that any better?”

Beomgyu observes you with knitted brows, trying to come up with a solution and an answer as if it were a math equation. “I don’t,” cutting himself off, he blinks frantically, looking for the right thing to say. “Why are we even here then? You wanted it in the first place!”

You don’t have an answer. The only plausible one would be to tell him that it’s because you love him, how much pain it brings you to continue going on like this with someone who doesn’t feel the same, how sad it leaves you when he walks out the door.

You swear as you pick up and put on the pile of clothes strewn on the floor, frustrated at all of the sudden rush of emotions that make you answer in blunt, meaningless venom. “I was bored and horny months ago. Now I don’t want any of this.” The brunette’s face is laced with hurt, chest huffing and nostrils flaring. “I’m not your personal vibrator. You can’t just boss me around or order me whenever you need me.” Hands reaching to massage your temples, you hiss, “I never asked you to be any of that! You—”

“I’m just a glorified dildo to you. That’s all you ever call me for anyway.” Scoffing, you storm off into the bathroom, washing yourself off the filth on your hands, on your arms. “I’m just a pocket pussy to you!” You scream back, “Don’t think you’re on the losing end here.”

“How lucky of me,” He fires back, stomping into the foyer. “You’re such an asshole. Don’t even text me.” He hurriedly ties his laces, more or less falling over himself as he takes his anger out on the doorknob. “I wasn’t planning to, prick!.” He shoves a middle finger up into your face, one last gesture before he’s slamming the door, sound echoing through the hollow apartment.

The weather doesn’t cease, quite the opposite. Precipitate thuds and crashes heavily, thunder roaring as the lightning halfway blinds you from how close it is. On the ground is Beomgyu’s brown automatic umbrella, still wet from earlier. You palm its button, taking a long breath, unlocking your door.

Looking around, almost everything is shrouded in rain and fog. You hold tightly onto the umbrella, wind howling prior to it nearly knocking you back along with it. You don’t see him, don’t know which direction he went.

You curse at yourself for not knowing, you curse at Beomgyu for leaving. You beat yourself up for being too big of a pussy to actually say something, anything helpful to him.

The umbrella finds itself useless, tears streaming down your face. With drenched clothes and wet slippers, you trudge back into your apartment and overthink yourself to sleep on the couch.

You’re pathetic. Really pathetic. But maybe it’s just the flu making you extra emotional. Sobbing into your blankets, it doubles as a makeshift tissue box—burrowing your red, inflamed nose against it. It’s gross, and you should really go to bed, but your friends said they’d swing by to drop something off at your place; something to make you feel better.

As you answer the door, you take in the irony— the latter phrase couldn’t be more wrong. He’s here, a few inches away from your grasp, but he’s here. He’s drunk and blinking very hard in hopes that he can gain balance, but he’s here.

Beomgyu raises the bag of warm food in a translucent plastic bag, waving it in front of your face. Not really sure what to say anymore, you move away from the door to let him in. He rambles about the empty cupboards and kitchen counters—setting down the insulated tupperwares he brought. A fog of vapor releases into the air when he opens one of them. It’s tempting, and you’re really sick and really tired, not to mention hungry. Regardless, you stand your ground; if staring at him waiting for him to explain counts. He apologizes, says he’s been busy; though you already knew that. He knows you know, knows he’s just filling awkward space. The both of you just wait for each other to say something. A tired drunk versus a tired sick person who’s sort of drunk on cough syrup. “Your umbrella is by the doorframe.” The look on his face says he’s unsure what to make of that. Were you just stating a fact? Did you think it’s what he came for? Or did you want him to leave so badly? His breathing is shaky, anxiety catching up to him as he busies himself with the take-out. “I can buy another one any day,” He lies through his teeth. You know, because he’s treasured it and it’s brown bear print since the day you met. “I heard the others say you were sick, and I came.”

“You stopped your drinking session to come visit me?” It’s earnest curiosity, mixed with a hint of attitude. “I stopped by to check on you, I was worried about you–us.” An eyebrow raises as you watch the other shift stiffly in his seat. “Us?” His gaze backs down, palming the back of his neck. “Yeah, us. We left things on a weird note last time.” Head spinning, you slouch into one of the chairs. “Beoms,” He lights up at the acknowledgement, deflating once he sees the concerned look on your face. “I’m really tired, I think you should leave. I’ll pay you back for the food some other time.”

Without warning, he springs across the table, clutching your face and pressing down hard on your lips. His teeth gnash against your unmoving ones, frantic to get you moving. When you do, it’s a shove to his shoulders, causing him to stumble backwards. “Beomgyu, what the fuck?” The brunette winces at your tone, panicking when you get up to back away from him. “I’m sorry! I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah and eating my face off is part of the plan?” You retort, shaking off the wrist that holds you in place. “I know I’m sorry!” He maneuvers to block your path, grip on your arms bordering painful. “I love you–”

“You’re drunk.” You hiss, nails digging into his shoulders as you drag him to the front door. “You don’t even want to hear what I have to say?” Huffing, you gather his things together and shove them to his chest.

You want to be mad. You want to curse him out for everything he’s unknowingly put you through, but when you see his face, so remorseful and full of hurt and you remember how it’s not even his fault. “Get your shit together. Call me when you're sober and I’m not on cough syrup; so we can both think clearly.” Eager is an understatement, immediately nodding as he drops all his things to drape his arms around you. He hugs as if he’s afraid of how you’d look at him when you part, as if separating from you would be so wrong it was almost inhuman. Still, he detaches himself. “Okay.”

You think you’ve been standing outside his apartment complex for about twenty minutes. Anxiety eats away at your stomach acid, tapping your foot on the ground as you stare at Beomgyu’s last message.

It’s the right place, same structure on maps and easy to find, though maybe you’re trying to come up with a reason not to push through with this. You didn’t even know he transferred buildings, taken by surprise at the random notification that pinged your phone at three in the morning. After viewing it, the confrontation with him plagued your mind, scenarios running wildly in your head as you overthink every possible outcome.

A shy smile graces Beomgyu’s face when he lets you in, easing the apprehension a little. The area is cluttered with all types of trinkets and memorabilia from him and his roommates, though you can see how his stands out to you the most. There’s a cute wall full of photo strips from all of his friends, though none containing you had caught your eye. The unease makes its way back to you, gulping down as he guides you across the studio, passing the living area and miscellaneous doors. “I’ll get you something to drink. You can just sit on the bed–or on the floor, or–it doesn’t really matter.” With that he leaves, and you’re greeted by a plethora of mixed ornaments: A few instruments lazily strewn against the walls and racks, study desk devoid of any actual study material—replaced by a new curved flatscreen for his desktop, posters for different genres of music and fiction neatly arranged on one wall.

You stop to inspect the cork board behind the monitor; a few photos of the two of you taped and pinned along with random receipts and to-do lists. Your heart sinks a little, recalling the abrupt confession from nearly a week ago. You know what he said, but it’s best not to get your hopes up, you’re his closest friend after all. Beomgyu kicks the door open with mild force, startling you. He huffs out a chuckle, “I don’t actually have anything, so I just got us water.” With a nod, you flump onto the edge of the bed, twiddling your thumbs. For a while, the two of you just sit there, staring at each other. Your eyes bare into his, cheeks flaring up as collateral as he blurts out, “I meant it. Everything I said the other night.” You set the glass slowly onto the nightstand, shifting up the bed. The brunette mimics your actions, making sure you don’t run away or divert away from him. “I think you’re confused, Gyu.” His lids shut in frustration, gnawing back a portion of his cheeks. “No you don’t–” You cut him off, rambling. “It’s my fault, ever since I asked you to sleep with me we’ve been blurring the lines a bit too far.”

He charges at you, palm clasped over your face. “You’re not listening to me.” Through muffled protests, you exclaim, “But–” Another hand pushes you against the headboard, “You never listen to me. All you do is make assumptions about how I feel and how it’s affecting me when you don’t even let me speak for myself. I told you I love you and you shut me up, like you’re telling me how I feel.” The weight of his body nearly crushes you, eyes sealed as you feel the comforting pressure numbing your nerves. “I know how I fucking feel. I’ve never been so sure of anything—ever. So no, I’m not going to let you bitch about how things should be going between us without my decision.” He bites down on the plump of his lips, trying to find the words to say. “You don’t give a shit about me, and I let it slide because I’m so desperate for anything you do. I run miles the minute you text me to come over, or did you not even know I moved?” Shying away in guilt has him laughing madly, tugging the ends of his own hair. “See? You only think about yourself like the selfish prick you are. Everything is always about you.”

His laughter dies down, liquid drops cascading onto your shirt. “Do I really mean that little to you? What else do you want from me?” Your words are lost in between the silence and the steady sniffling, gazing up slowly to meet his own. What else can you say? What do you want? How blind could you have been to ignore Beomgyu, your best friend over everything else?

So you don’t say anything.

You lean forward, prolonged eye contact undisturbed as your breath fans his lips. It’s agonizing, how slow you both are—if any of you are moving at all. His lips brush against yours, sighing into you—it’s as sweet as nectarine. He takes you in like he’s never eaten anything better, yet restraining himself from hasty gestures, savoring every turn of your tongue and groove of your mouth. Your body slants against his, shifting upwards as he wraps your legs around his, hands on the meat of your thighs. His body stutters, reluctantly pulling away. “Let’s… We should stop now. Before one of us gets hurt.”

Your face softens, taking his hands in yours and peppering his fingers with delicate pecks. “I would never dream of hurting you, baby.” He melts onto your shoulders, burying himself in your collarbone. “I don’t want things to stay as they are.” He comments as you kiss the side of his head, stroking his hair as your other hand thumbs over his knuckles. “I don’t want things to stay as they are either.”

He jumps up at the revelation, breathing unrhythmically. “And if it ruins our friendship?” You kiss the knot off the brows on his forehead, planting them on spots of visible tension strewn across his face. “Then we’d still be lovers, no?” Your words have Beomgyu in a trance, and he thinks he’s lucid dreaming. “Lovers?” You hum in agreement, tucking the stray strands of brown behind his ear. “Do you not want that?”

“Of course!” He blurts, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “I mean, of course I do. With you. Only you.”

“Only me?” You tease, but he takes it at face value, pleading. “Only you. Forever.”

“That’s cheesy.” He scoffs, pushing you down on his bed. “Shut up, you want me.”

“I do. Only you.” To that he grins, giggly and innocent as if he wasn’t grinding his knee into your cunt. “I wanna taste you.” You hoist his chin up, stopping him from going down on you. “Baby,” You coo, “you’re so cute. But I think I owe you head today.” Lips parting, he wastes no time ridding himself of his sweats. “And for the last million times.” He retorts in a half joke. “I know, I’m so sorry.” Pouting for sympathy, you rub your cheek against his underwear. “I’ll make sure to make up for all of it.” He stifles a moan, hips moving at nothing. “My needy prince.” Disregarding your teasing, he focuses on the movements of your fingers, skilled and articulated as they work his cock. “That’s gonna take forever.” He replies, earning a shrug from you. “We have the time.”

You trace the shape of its head, licking and kissing it until you stop at his balls, repeating over and over again until he tells you to stop. With a deep breath, you take as much of him as you can, hitting the back of your throat as he screams. All the sounds you’re making go straight to his dick, Forearms covering his eyes. You reach to swat them away, forcing his eyes on you—you do the same. He whimpers when you hump the mattress below him, slick staining the sheets. His hands intertwine with yours, staring straight at the sight as he bucks into your mouth.

“‘M sorry, so weak.” He’s gasping for air, palms flat on the back of your head, shoving you down his length. “Can’t control it–need your mouth.” Your cunt throbs with every grunt he makes, nose hitting his skin. His noises get louder, pitch raising. “No–stop—” But you don’t listen, hands on his ass while he pushes your face off him. He wants to see you, see you blissed-out painted in his seed when he comes. You don’t let him, swallowing around his dick as you take every pump of cum that flows into your mouth. He falls over your shoulder gasping, grabbing your head to meet his with a kiss. “You’re so mean, I thought today was about me?” You hum, crawling back up the headboard and discarding the rest of your clothing. “So you didn’t like it? ‘Cause I can—”

He cuts you off immediately, shaking his head fervently. “No! I just wanna see your face.”

“Aw, did my baby miss me that much?” You coo, “It was only a week.” With a huff, he lines his member and rubs it against your wet pussy. “A week too long.” Laughing, you caress his cheek, fingers kissed by him. “We’ll do it as much and as long as you like.” He ruts harder against you, moans filling up the room. “You’ll be the death of me.”

You snarl, impatient. “Stop talking and fuck me already.”

He only slides the tip in you, smirk growing as he watches you writhe for friction.

Beomgyu watches the crease in your brows, the quiver of your lips, the restlessness of your arms. He kisses every feature of you he can, filing the memories away. “I love you.”

You're barely able to mumble it back as he bottoms out, a resounding thud sounding from the base of his dick and onto your ass. “God, you feel so fucking good.” He rolls his hips slow and deep, eyes trained on you—watching your mouth fall open and close. You don’t make any noise, but he’s here to change that. Pressing down on your stomach, he feels the outline of his cock as it moves in and out, the bulge so visible you shut your eyes closed in embarrassment. You gasp when he bends down to kiss you again, hold on your chin steady as he directs it to the view that connects the two of you. After a few seconds, he pulls your face to meet his. “You’re gonna watch me. And I wanna hear all the pretty sounds you make.” Without warning, he pummels into you, your back arching off the sheets and drool pours from your mouth when he hooks his thumb into it. “B–Beomgyu—”

“Mine…All mine now—gonna ruin you for anyone else.” You whine and thrash underneath him, fingernails digging into his arms as he plays with the nub of your clit. “Nobody else’s, only yours.” He chuckles, “That’s right, love. Where do you want it?” You can barely string words together, fucked out beyond belief as his thrusts get harder, loosing rhythm. “Inside!” His cock pulses at your words, slowing down to stop himself from coming.

“You want it inside? Want me to breed you full of cum?” He says in a low voice, hands roaming your body while licking at your tits.

You’re so animated, every part of your body moving against his for relief, holding back a moan when your hole clenched around him. “Filthy… But you’re my baby, and I love you so, so much. Of course I’ll give you what you want.” He picks up the pace, hips pounding into you relentlessly—the sound of skin slapping mixed with the smell of sex is as suffocating as it is intoxicating.

You’re loud and screaming a slurry of words you aren’t even sure make sense, cock-drunk as he fucks you through your first orgasm. It’s not long before a second one barrels through you, walls clenching tighter as he spills his own seed inside, milky white and full as he makes you ride out both your highs.

Your cum mixes as it pools around your ass and the base of his dick. He litters your face and body with kisses, stopping at your lips to devour it hungrily. It’s all drool, hot gasps of air shared when you disconnect with a line of spit.

He doesn’t pull out, staring at the sight for a few seconds before carefully settling at the space next to you, making sure not a single drop leaks out.

“Just to be clear, we’re dating now right?” “Yes, you idiot. Did you not hear anything I said? Did you ignore the part where I agreed to you breeding me?” His face flushes, hiding himself between the junction of your neck and shoulder. “Just making sure.” Beomgyu snakes his arm on top of your waist, draping a leg onto it and sighing, content.

“….So nobody else, right?” You groan, turning your head to face him. It’s hard, and you wince at the position change when his dick prods around inside you, cum leaking onto the sheets. “Nobody else.” You reply, resting your head back against his chest. “Only you.”

We hit 300 (what would've been 500+) notes on part 1 !!

thank you for reading! feedback, reblogs, and tags for support towards the algorithm appreciated♡

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Seventeen & recording booth blowjobs

🎧Who; Seventeen (individually) x gender-neutral reader 🎧What; Smut headcanon 🎧Wordcount; 1.8k 🎧Warnings; oral(mostly male receiving but mentions of reader receiving too), some dom members, some sub members, some degradation in Seungkwan's(i don't do degradation in any way usually so uh be nice to me about how it's written okay i am babie), Kwan's also a bit of a mean dom, profanity, cheol and wonwoo's deep ass voices and growls(i am not okay), minor choking in Vernon's, teasing, mentions of edging, mentions of begging, i think that's it? let me know if i missed anything

Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- I said "imagine sucking his dick while he's trying to record vocals so he's got to try and not react at all" then the idea quickly progressed and took over my mind thanks to @wonuvs & @ourdawnishotterthanourday so here we have it, my thoughts on how each of the svt members would react to a recording booth blowjob. Also tagging @kwanisms just for the Seungkwan one 💖 enjoy it, sweetheart 😘

🎧Seungcheol🎧 This man was born to get his dick sucked in a recording booth. He lives for his kind of shit and is as cocky and confident as you'd expect Choi Seungcheol to be. He'll have a hand in your hair the entire time to guide your pace so he at least has a semblance of a chance of getting his lines recorded. And he manages but his voice is all low and rough and he growls more than usual. Would not even surprise me if he makes you stay there on your knees while he checks the recording before returning and says it's your turn. He'll put the headphones on your ears, playing the recording of his low voice on repeat then get to his knees for you

🎧Jeonghan🎧 100% tries to act like he's just agreeing for you. No, of course, he doesn't think it's mind-numbingly hot having you on your knees with your mouth open in wait as soon as he's got the headphones on[sarcasm]. He'll try to tease you with his cock, tapping it on your lolled tongue with a smirk but it's really just an attempt to give himself a chance to gain his mental stability back. It doesn't work. He forgets the lyrics constantly and can't focus enough to even read them once he pulls them up on his phone. Does not manage to finish recording and gives up. Lets you suck him dry then takes you home to fuck and nap

🎧Joshua🎧 Honestly, he's not entirely sold on the idea. This dude is into some shit but getting his dick sucked while his mouth is next to a microphone and knowing others will listen to this later? Yeah, your sex life is for you two. However, he won't entirely dismiss it and will let you get on your knees for him when he's done recording, or part way through, so he's not right next to the mic but still close enough that there's a risk of getting caught. But then he'll check the recording after and if there's even the slightest hint of what just happened, he'll delete it and try to rerecord if he has time, without you in the booth this time of course. If he doesn't have time to record, the demon will just pretend he doesn't know what happened with an innocent "Oh, it's not there? I pressed the record button, right, babe?" pulling you into the lie smoothing.

🎧Junhui🎧 He'll be randomly giggling throughout because he doesn't know how else to react but he loves every second of it and keeps darting his bright eyes between the mic & lyrics and your face. He doesn't say anything to you during and he actually succeeds in biting back most of his moans(the ones he doesn't manage to stop he disguises with coughing which makes you try not to laugh, which sets him off giggling again) and will keep petting your head to silently tell you how good you're being for him

🎧Soonyoung🎧 The poor baby just cannot handle it, he's so fucking turned on by it all. Non-stop whimpering and stammering on his lines. He tries his best though, bless him, keeps tapping out to catch his breath and record, though inevitably keeps looking at you as he records until he's whining and you know what that means, so you lean back in and he rushes out appreciative thank yous while his head tips back and his eyes close. Finishes quicker than he ever has, not the recording but in your mouth. He literally can't step into that booth for months without popping a boner

🎧Wonwoo🎧 This man loves this kind of shit. He's half hard the second you suggest in and dragging you eagerly into the booth the next. Will stop to kiss you breathless first though, to show how appreciative he is of you. He'll be semi-focused on his lines and like Seungcheol, Wonwoo's voice is so unfairly fucking low for this and he drags his syllables so much, but luckily he's recording a slower rap anyway so it fits the style better than the original plan. Afterwards, when you both listen to the recording, he jokes that you should step into the booth with him more often (it's not entirely a joke though)

🎧Jihoon🎧 He'd try so hard and want to seem in control but he would not last long before telling you to sit still and let him fuck your mouth. He'll have endless praises as he stares down at you, fingers brushing over your cheeks and jaw tenderly in juxtaposition to how he roughly pistons his cock into your eager, sloppy mouth. He'll send you the recording clip later that night as well and suggests he fucks you in there next time. Recording booth sex becomes pretty regular for the two of you after that and opens up a whole world of kinky Jihoon tbh

🎧Seokmin🎧 He'll try so hard to keep his voice steady but he's overwhelmed and doesn't really know what to do with himself or his hands so you'll have to be patient with him and put his hands where you want them. Afterwards, he'll be a shy blushy mess, but so sated and smiley and will likely make up some excuse to go home so that he can return the favour because Seokmin is all for orgasm equality (even if the man will spend hours with his head between your thighs until you physically can't move from the amount of powerful orgasms he always gives you)

🎧Mingyu🎧 He'll be all giggly at first with excitement and nerves. He'll do his best to not let your mouth on his cock distract him but he'll lose his mind and start moaning into the mic without shame, with both hands on your head begging you to not stop yet letting you take the lead and go at your own pace, even if it's driving him crazy. But that's okay because he fucking loves it, loves having you in control of his pleasure as he has no choice but to take whatever the fuck you deem suitable in the moment even if it's nothing, or a lot

🎧Minghao🎧 You'd think he'd be the most in control but ha, no. Minghao is a giant exhibitionist(and voyeur tbh) and this shit is right up his alley. Though he will still be cautious in the way that he won't do it if anyone he doesn't trust, AKA anyone but the other Seventeen members, will have the chance to hear the recording. He may even check with Jihoon first and get his consent to try this out and Jihoon will agree so long as Minghao agrees to save the file with a certain symbol so Jihoon knows to not listen to that version. Hao will kind of be feral from the beginning, you're barely in the booth and he's pulling you into a heavy makeout before urging you to your knees as he pulls the headphones on. He doesn't even attempt to do his lines and just groans and talks pure filth to you with his slender fingers in your hair. He'll only record his lines once he's cum…the first time. He'll be hard again in no time and this time, he'll press you chest first against the wall and fuck you from behind, one hand on the back of your neck or gripping your hair and the other tight on your hip

🎧Seungkwan🎧 Part of me wants to say Seungkwan would not be into this at all. But the other part of me thinks he'd be really into it. I think it depends on what kind of mood you catch him in. But on the days you catch him in the right mood, I think he'd be a little mean about it "you want my cock so badly, huh, couldn't even wait until I'm done working? My desperate little cockslut." Teases you with his length, rubbing the tip over your lips and maybe even slapping your cheek a little with a filthy smirk on his face while you whine wordlessly, mouth still obediently open "You look so pretty, baby, drooling all over yourself for me. Do you want it? Want my cock in that greedy mouth of yours?" will make you beg and plead until you've got tears in your eyes before he slowly feeds his length into your mouth. "Now sit still and let me use your dirty little mouth like a good slut" might even cum on your face if he's feeling extra mean

🎧Vernon🎧 Unless he's going to be the one to deal with the recording afterwards, Vernon wouldn't even entertain this. I think he's very much a hugely private guy where his sex life is concerned, so he wouldn't want anyone to hear that. But if he knows for certain only he will hear the recording or that he can get to it quick enough to remove it and keep to himself, this guy will be so fucking into it. Full on talking dirty to you in between his lines with no adjustment to his volume while putting his hand on your throat to feel his cock and make you choke on him a little in the way you both love. He won't rush it either, he'll make you move slowly on his cock with a lazy smirk on his face as he watches you with his dark gaze "just like that, baby, keep going" drags it out in a way that teases you both because Vernon does love to be teased and edged even when he's in charge of the pace

🎧Chan🎧 I think Chan would be into it but he also takes his work seriously and doesn't want to disappoint anyone so he'll have a hand in your hair gripping lightly ready to pull you away the second he notices anyone enter the studio. Though he also can't help but keep pulling you closer while rolling his hips forward with low moans that rumble through his chest and up his throat. Like Jeonghan, he'll forget his lines multiple times and that's when he'll reluctantly pull you off and breathlessly ask to stop at least until he's finished this line. If you agree, he'll press a grateful little sweet kiss on your lips and go into serious idol mode to nail the lines before taking you elsewhere to finish this in private. If you refuse, whew, prepare for him to go whiney and desperate very quickly because he knows you're not in the mindset to let him just be and he loves it, loves it when you dom him. He'll forget all about the recording at this point so you'll have to remind him and if he cums before he's done recording? Yeah, he's not getting that song recorded today, baby will just be all cute and want nothing more than to tuck up against you and get you off in return

A/N- The funniest thing is I'm just imagining Jihoon having to listen to all of this afterwards. Poor guy needs a raise and a hard drink after hearing his members getting their dicks sucked <3

If you have any suggestions about these NSFW headcanons for me to write, don't be shy to send them in via ask! I'm not always in the mindset to write smutty things but I'll get to them when the inspiration/mood strikes!

Also don't be shy to let me know what you thought of this! And please reblog if you enjoyed reading, likes are lovely but they don't help spread a writer's work for others to read and (hopefully) enjoy as much as you did, but reblogs do!

[sttoru]

⟣ note. based on this panel of the veil manga :3 loved it sm i had to make a small fic out w/ toji && yes this is also ur sign to go read veil :>

⟣ tags. toji fushiguro + female reader. fluff. implied age gap (reader 20-ish, toji 30) ig..?, size difference. toji’s smoking. toji calls reader ‘little girl, kid, brat’ and is a big meanie. i’ve personally written it to be platonic but can also be read as romantic = completely up to you.

the night was a cold one; most citizens had escaped inside, searching for shelter in their houses due to the freezing temperatures and windy weather. therefore, the normally bustling streets had now transformed completely empty and quiet.

“fuckin’ hell.”

well—‘almost’ completely empty and quiet.

“what’s wrong?” you ask toji, who was standing beside you near a fence, looking down at the beautiful scenery the city lights created. you had begged him to meet up in this cold weather solely because you couldn’t sleep.

toji (reluctantly) agreed even though he was warm and cozy underneath his blankets the moment you called. he put on a random coat and went out to accompany you on your little stroll. you knew he wouldn’t do that for anyone else, though you don’t tease him about that fact; he’d probably turn around and go right back to his apartment out of spite.

“can’t light my cig up because of the damn wind.” the older man clicks his tongue, creating a small ‘tsk’ sound. he used his hand to try and block the cold breeze from blowing out the small fire from his lighter, but to no avail.

“poor you, having to deal with an anti-smoking wind.” your witty comment gains a huff and a gentle kick to the butt from toji.

“ha-ha. real funny, kid.”

you lean against the railing, hands cupping your own cheeks as you prop your elbows against the surface. the wind was strong and made you shiver just a tad bit, but the moment was still enjoyable. the distant sounds of the cars speeding across the roads, your coats rustling, the heels of your feet tapping against concrete and… the sounds of a man struggling and cursing next to you.

“still no luck?” you tease with a shit-eating grin whilst turning your face to the side, gazing at toji whose cigarette was still defeatedly dangling from between his lips.

“nah, none.” he scoffs and seemed on the verge of giving up when you clear your throat in an overly confident manner. you stepped closer to him—the faint smell of both alcohol and tobacco instantly filling your nostrils—and undid the two upper buttons of your coat.

toji’s eyes flicker from his lighter to you and he raises an eyebrow at your sudden interference. the look in your eyes seemed to hint at mischief, yet they also glimmered with pride at what you were about to do.

“c’mere.” you gesture for the older man to lower his head, hands parting your coat to both sides of your body, forming a protective shield from any winds. you stood on your tiptoes so toji could light his cigarette in the self-made cover.

toji chuckles at this; “pretty smart, ain’t ya?” he bends his head down, his hands carefully holding onto both your elbows, lifting you a bit higher up on your tiptoes so that he could reach you. toji then lowers his head a bit more until it was fully engulfed by your coat. the warmth radiating from your body almost makes him forget what he was supposed to do.

his thumb rolls against the sparkwheel, the little flame now being more stable as you try your best to keep steady on the tips of your shoes—eyes looking down at the top of toji’s head. his black hair was tickling your chin and you held yourself back from giggling, since it’d probably mess up the cover if you do.

after a second or two, toji finally gets his cigarette to burn up. he lingers there between the warmth of your coat for more than needed, but eventually pulls away and straightens his back—once again towering over your short figure.

toji stays silent as another strong gust of wind almost makes you fall back. your hair gets in your eyes and blocks most of your vision, making it unable to see if your trick helped him like intended.

“did it work?” you ask, voice slightly raised in case toji couldn’t hear you over the loud wind. there was no answer, but you could spot him holding the cigarette up to his lips, the small stick of nicotine resting between his index and middle finger.

seeing you helplessly try to wipe the locks of hair from your face was quite amusing to the man. he didn’t bother helping you like you did to him a moment ago.

besides, you’d survive without his aid—he’s just going to enjoy the view of your adorable self struggling against the wind.

toji moves closer to you after a couple seconds of just grinning at your useless fight against the weather. his free hand pushes your hair to the side, rough fingers gliding across the skin above your eyebrow and eventually coming to rest behind your ears—having tucked the loose strands away.

your obstructed view dissolves and is replaced by a sight you’ve seen many times before: toji, giving you that devilish smirk of his, the one he shows you before he does something to either tease or piss you off.

“guess it did work.” you hum as your eyes focus on the lit up cigarette. you felt proud of yourself for helping toji with that simple task and that lightly cocky expression somehow made you look even cuter to the assassin.

he really just wanted to squeeze and pinch your cheeks as hard as he could. was that called cuteness aggression?

toji takes a long drag of his cigarette before unexpectedly blowing the smoke out in your face, causing you to cough and pinch your nose, “hey! is that how you thank your saviour?”

your answer was a small snicker. toji averted his gaze from you to the city beneath your feet as you stood on a hill. he was having fun accompanying you on your late night stroll. it wasn’t every day that he got to relax like this—plus, you were the only one in his social circle who’d voluntarily hang out with him. others would solely meet up for business matters.

once you calmed down a bit, coughed the smoke out of your throat and fanned any remaining particles away from your face, you mumbled something among the lines of ‘never helping him out again’. the assassin shakes his head at your light-hearted complaints, your pouty expression only fuelling him to tease you some more.

“whadd’ya say there, little girl?” toji raises an eyebrow, one hand coming up to lightly grab your ear and tug at it, your body stumbling back towards his. you yelp and wrap your fingers around toji’s wrist—trying to release yourself from his grasp.

“ouch! let go!” a swat to his forearm did nothing; his bulky physique was easily overpowering you. your tugging and pulling was nothing but child’s play to him.

your lips formed an ever bigger pout, eyes narrowing at him as you tried to give him your meanest death glare. toji was satisfied once he got the reaction he wanted and let go of your ear, but not before rubbing the tingling area gently with his thumb and index finger—soothing the faint pain in his own way.

“seriously, toji?” you roll your eyes and give him one last smack against his bicep. you lean back against the fence and glance down at the streets, feigning your anger at him for teasing you twice in a row.

“you mad?” toji takes another long pull from his cigarette before blowing the smoke out the other way. he turns around and leans his back against the railing, granting himself the perfect opportunity to look down at your face which you tried to hide away;

“am not.”

“yeah you are.”

“am not!”

“…whatever you say, brat.”

[vaaaaaiolet]

It's the RPD's annual Secret Santa, and Leon's at his wit's end finding the perfect gift for his work crush. No competition, of course, except for the part where you make him promise not to bring something lame. Leon's got a week. He can do this. Right?

gn / m, fluff, romance, humor, leon is a SWEETHEART, you guys work at the RPD but you're leon's senior and also love reading??, no outbreak, inspired by the teapot episode of The Office lol, tw: claustrophobia

word count: 1.5k // read on ao3

a/n: vivi try not to mention christmas challenge go!!! @k1ssaphobe this one's for you <3 literally the ugliest effing banner i've ever made i'm SO SORRY but this completely destroyed my writer's block. i had so much fun <3

It’s all been downhill since Leon plucked your name out of a glass jar last week. Shit. Multiply that times three, rain down a couple red and green sprinkles for holiday spirit, and you have a great representation of how prepared Leon feels about being assigned the most crippling crush he’s had since high school for the RPD’s annual Secret Santa: you. 

Shit, indeed.

His hands shake like tremolo as he rereads your name printed on his little slip of paper, and Leon decides right then and there that the best way to go about this is to not go about it at all. Plain and simple. 

“Aren’t you excited?” you gush after your turn to draw from the jar. Poor you, you’d taken his jittery hands as enthusiasm. 

Leon grins tightly. “For sure, yeah, I um… I love Christmas. Really excited. You get who you wanted?” 

“Hey, no cheating. Not even with me, rookie.” You scrunch your face, clutching your paper to your chest. “Secret Santa’s secret. But it’s no secret that you’ve got to give it your all, so no lousy gifts allowed, got it?”

Well, there’s that plan gone. It’s back to police academy basics: Keep It Simple, Stupid. 

There’s nothing to overthink about making a good impression as the newest RPD recruit, Leon gaslights himself while haunting the Target holiday aisle on Monday night. You routinely save him from Irons’ infamous wrath, so it’s only natural that Leon spends all of Tuesday in a stupor at his desk, definitely not thinking of how he could never pay you back the favor with a silly Secret Santa gift. 

Wednesday rolls by and his coffee from yesterday sits in the break room, cold and overstirred next to today’s breakfast crumbs. How many times has Leon watched you sip tea at your desk? Five, six? 

Your eyes sparkle over the rim of your cup when he asks you about your weekend. Really, he doesn’t get the hate for small talk. There’s nothing small about the smile that bunches up your cheeks when he cracks a stupid joke about the weather, and more often than not, Leon finds himself waterboarding his notes app with the names of all the novels you drop mid-conversation so he can binge their Sparknotes over the weekend. So it goes, according to Kurt Vonnegut.

Ugh, he should have paid more attention in English. What the hell is an allegory anyway? Leon spends all of Thursday browsing your Goodreads profile and wracking his head over the hefty price tags attached to your TBR list. His wallet makes for a terrible wingman. 

But really, finding the perfect gift is no sweat at all. Leon is absolutely nonplussed (according to his 50th vocabulary-related Google search) when he steps into the RPD elevator on Friday morning with a clumsily wrapped, candy cane-striped bundle in his arms. 

“Hold it plea- Leon!”  

Liar, liar, pants on fire – he’s totally shitting his pants when you barely make it inside before the doors snap shut. 

“Thanks,” you gasp. 

Leon nods stiffly, his cheeks growing warm, and jams the second-floor button with his knuckle.

As the elevator starts its maddeningly slow climb, you hum, rocking back and forth in your snow boots. You’re cradling a package of your own, something four-cornered and fairly small. Leon, however, feels like he’s holding a bomb, the object of his affections standing less than three feet from his radius of destruction. How are you so carefree right now? You’ve probably got this gifting thing in the bag and he most definitely doesn’t. 

Leon can see everything unfold the moment he enters the office. You’ve had your gift planned months beforehand, his gift is going to be horrifically lame when you open it, everyone’s going to clap politely but you’re going to hate him forev-

And then the elevator plunges into pitch black.

“Oh my god!” 

Who screamed louder, Leon doesn’t want to find out.

The elevator shudders to a complete stop. Leon’s mental spiral of doom helpfully supplies him with an image of you two dangling in midair, suspended on wires. Maybe this is the universe saving him from delivering the worst Secret Santa gift of his life.

Leon blinks in the darkness, waiting for your unflappable voice to cut through the silence and figure a way out, headstrong as always, except you don’t, and Leon strains his ears to hear what’s surely not what he thinks it is, a whisper that sounds an awful lot like: “Leon, I don’t want to die.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna die,” you whimper. “I don’t wanna die.”

Your voice floats up from a lot lower than he remembers your head being, so he crouches down to find you with your arms hugged to your chest. You’re huddled against the wall, breathing all shallow. The package in your arms lies forgotten somewhere in the abyss.

“Hey, hey, nobody’s dying.” Leon reaches out to find your hand. “What’s the matter?”

“I have, cl-clau-”

“Claustrophobia?” He remembers that one well. Wishes he didn’t. 

You nod fitfully.

“The dark doesn’t help either, huh?” he whispers, craning his head to look at the busted bulb on the ceiling. “Damn.”

Your palm grows colder and clammier in his hand by the minute, and the shakiness in your breathing is starting to worry him. Your head pops above your knees when you hear rustling in the shadows, and then the telltale Christmastime cacophony of wrapping paper being torn to shreds. 

“What are you…?”

“Being resourceful,” Leon grits, tearing his Secret Santa gift open. He fumbles with its contents for a second, slipping something into a plastic compartment. “It’s not the best, but…”

The elevator blooms with soft, golden light.

“...it’ll do.”

“What’s this?” you murmur in awe, cupping your hands around the tiny book light Leon holds. 

“My Secret Santa gift,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I kind of, um, blanked. I’m also really bad at giving gifts, so there’s also this,” he says, pulling out a mug from the heap of trashed wrapping paper.

When I Think About Books, I Touch My Shelf, it announces with impunity. 

Leon blushes when you giggle at the inscription. Things always look better online than in person, rookie mistake. But at least you’re breathing better now. 

“This is amazing,” you laugh, cradling the cup like there’s warmth inside. 

“Not so amazing now that I’ve opened all the packaging.”

“Your Secret Santa won’t mind at all, trust me, not with a gift like this- ‘touch my shelf’, you’re unbelievable! Tell me where you got it.”

He shakes his head. 

“Leon Scott Kennedy, if you don’t stop gatekeeping this incredible mug and this super useful book light, by the way, I’m going to tell Irons you spilled coffee all over his desk. I can be very convincing, y’know.” You cross your arms decidedly, waiting. 

“There’s no need for all that!” he protests. 

“That was a promise, Leon, not a threat.”

“C’mon, be reasonable here.”

“You’re still not telling me.” 

“It’s for you, silly.” Leon tilts his head, face heating up faster than the book light bulb, “You’re my Secret Santa.” 

He must be hallucinating the pink in your cheeks.

“Oh,” you breathe. 

“Yes, oh,” Leon teases, scooching to sit next to you. “I couldn’t think of anything,” he confesses, “so I just went with the basics. I know you read and I know you really miss your old tea mug, the one that broke, right? You’re my gifting competition and I got nervy from how sure you were about your person’s gift. So, um, I played safe.” Leon finishes lamely and squeezes his eyes shut, hoping the light doesn’t also illuminate the shame radiating from his body. 

And then he feels the press of an unbelievably soft kiss on his cheek.  

“It’s much better than what I’ve got,” he hears. 

His eyes fly open. Words don’t form right in his throat when you reach out for the package you dropped when the lights went out. Wrapping paper falls apart neatly in your hands (what don’t you do perfectly?) and you unveil a mini waffle iron, proportioned perfectly for somebody always running late without breakfast. Somebody like Leon.

“You keep missing breakfast and Irons is on my ass about saving you food all the time, so I guess took the practical route too,” you shuffle your feet, bashful all of a sudden. “And um, my gift’s kind of useless if we never make it out. Sorry.”

He fingers the tag in wonder. 

Merry Christmas, Leon! There’s a timer so you don’t burn them :) xoxo, your Secret Santa!

You’re so goddamn sweet. You’re perfect and thoughtful and it’s all your fault that Leon didn’t have the faintest clue what to give you. Think, Leon, think. He knows he’s not this stupid. What do you give to somebody who has everything? 

A kiss. One that’s all smiles and just as sweet as the way you kiss him back, because screw Secret Santa.

It’s hard to keep secrets when you’re Leon’s favorite one.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[allthelovehes]

The Author*

Summary: You just moved into your new apartment and your new neighbour turns out to be the author of the smutty book you're currently reading.

Pairing: Author/Neighbour!Harry x Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Warnings: Smut, basically strangers, it's cute tho.

Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla @hsonlyangelxo @yousunshineyoutempter @heartateasee @blueheisenbergtragedy @bikestyles @bohemianrhapsody86 Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗

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The first few weeks of living in your new apartment were, thankfully, relatively uneventful. You had managed to find a new job and keep your finances balanced, and the building you were in seemed to be relatively clean and well-maintained, and you'd never seen anyone who you thought would have a problem with you.

You travel back and forth between work by bus, not really feeling the need to have a car in the big city. Plus it gives you the perfect opportunity to read a good book, something you love but always slips in the cracks of your busy life.

It's the last day of work before your weekend, and you're on the bus home deep into a chapter of the book you're reading, everything is going perfectly fine. You're excited for the weekend as you still have a few boxes to unpack and some cleaning and organization that needs to get done.

You've been so into the book you're reading, that when you realize the bus just drove past your usual stop, you're shocked.

“Oh, shit.” You mutter under your breath as you try to think of what to do. You could just walk the few blocks back to your stop, the weather is fine anyway. You press the button, the bus comes to a halt at the next stop and you step off, thanking the driver for the ride. You begin walking, a tote on your shoulder and the book still in hand.

The streets aren't busy, it's not a particularly busy part of the city, and it's a beautiful afternoon. The sun is shining and there is a slight breeze, but not too much. You can hear the birds chirping and see the small kids playing in the nearby park, all in all a nice day.

You reach your building after a few minutes of walking, and the front door is unlocked and ajar, so you let yourself in and start to head towards the stairwell. When you reach the right floor, you spot your neighbour coming out of their apartment, the one you had seen the first night you'd arrived.

He was tall, much taller than you, and wearing a t-shirt that clung to his form nicely, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal a collection of tattoos that ran all the way down to his hands. His hair was curly and looked incredibly soft and you wanted nothing more than to run your hands through it. His jaw was chiselled, sporting a stubble. He looked good, really good.

“Hey.” He says, his voice deep and smooth, and you can't help but notice the accent he has. “I haven't seen you around before, are you the new neighbour?”

“Yeah, I moved in a couple of weeks ago.” You reply. “My name is Y/N.”

“It's nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Harry.” He extends a hand and you shake it. You notice the rings on his fingers, they're large, but not tacky, and they suit him. He looks at the book in your other hand and chuckles, “A reader, eh?”

“Yeah, I've always loved reading, and this one is really good, I've been wanting to finish it, so I'm glad I missed my stop, I was so deep into the story I hadn't even noticed.” You chuckle and it's then when Harry notices what book you have in hand, his book.

“Hey, wait a second. You're reading my book!” He points at the cover.

“Oh, you wrote this? Well, now I feel kinda embarrassed.” You say, laughing, trying to hide the embarrassment and your blushing cheeks. The story is based around quite a few explicit sex scenes, and you're hoping he won't bring it up.

“I'm just messing with ya. I'm actually quite flattered.” He chuckles.

You talk for a few more minutes and then go on your way. He is funny and kind, and his smile is one that you know you would kill to see. His eyes are bright, and you love the way his curls move when he laughs.

As you make your way to your apartment, you're smiling to yourself, thinking about how good-looking your new neighbour is. He seems kind and easy-going, and you wonder if you'll ever be able to spend more time with him.

When you get to your apartment, you drop your things, kick off your shoes and throw yourself onto your sofa. You sigh and close your eyes, taking a moment to process the day, and what just happened.

Knowing the man who came up with those incredible sex scenes was living right across the hall from you, is driving you absolutely wild. You're not sure why you're reacting the way you are, you have no business thinking about him like that. But he's just so fucking hot, and his accent, and his body, and the way his arms looked...

You feel your skin begin to heat up, and a tingling between your legs, and before you even realise, your hand is down the front of your jeans. You start touching yourself, and all you can think of is him, and the words he has written. Your breathing becomes heavier and you close your eyes, imagining him doing these things to you, his lips and hands exploring your body.

You're abruptly ripped from your fantasy by a knock on the door, and you jump and scramble to pull your hand from your pants.

“Fuck.” You hiss under your breath, and run your fingers through your hair, trying to get it to look presentable. You look through the peephole in the door and your eyes widen, there stands Harry, and he's holding a bottle of wine. You take a deep breath and open the door, trying to appear as composed as possible.

“Oh, hi.” You say, smiling, but you're nervous. “What can I do for you, Harry?”

“Hey, Y/N, I just came to drop off some wine.” He seems nervous. “I figured since you're new it'd be a nice thing to do.”

“That's very sweet of you, thank you.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy it.” He turns and starts to walk back to his own apartment.

“Harry, wait!” You shout, and he turns back to face you.

“Yes, love?” His British accent thick.

“Do you want to come in? I'll pour us some wine.”

“Yeah, that'd be lovely.” He follows you into the apartment. You take the wine from him and pour two glasses. You hand him the glass and sit down next to him, making sure to keep some distance between you.

You chat for a while, sipping your wine, and you find yourself enjoying his company. He tells you about his writing and how he's working on another book, and that he's glad that you've enjoyed the one he already published. You tell him about yourself, about how much you love to read, and he tells you he'll send you copies of the other books he has published.

The wine is flowing, and so is the conversation. Harry is really nice, and you find yourself wanting to spend more time with him. The bottle is empty and your cheeks are flushed, but not just from the alcohol.

“Well, I should probably head home.” Harry says, and the disappointment is evident on your face.

“No, don't leave yet.” You protest, and his eyes lock with yours. “I'm enjoying your company.”

“Well, alright. I can stay a bit longer.” He says, smiling.

You're not sure why, but you feel compelled to lean forward and kiss him. Maybe it's the wine, or the fact that he's just so fucking hot, or the stories and sex scenes in the book he had written. You're not sure, but something is driving you crazy, and you need him. Your lips crash against his, and it takes a moment for him to register what's happening. But when he kisses back, your heart flutters and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults.

You pull away and stare at him for a moment, and he looks at you with a mixture of lust and surprise in his eyes.

“Sorry.” You mutter. “I shouldn't have-“

He cuts you off by leaning in and kissing you again, this time deeper, and more passionate. His tongue finds its way into your mouth and your tongues collide, tasting each other. He pulls away and stares into your eyes, his lips slightly swollen and a smirk on his face.

“You're a good kisser.” He whispers.

“So are you.” You reply, a smile spreading across your lips.

He leans back in, kissing you more roughly than before, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. He begins trailing kisses down your neck and jawline, eliciting small whimpers and moans from you. He makes his way down your collarbones and chest, then moves back up to your ear.

“Y/N.” He whispers. “May I take this off?”

“Please.” You reply, almost begging. He grabs the bottom of your shirt and pulls it over your head, revealing the lacy bra underneath. He stares at your breasts for a moment, drinking them in, before he dives down and sucks at the exposed skin. He moves to your other breast and does the same, and his other hand begins to unbutton his own shirt.

He removes his shirt, revealing his tattoos, and you can't help but stare. He has a slim yet muscular frame, and his arms are toned and strong. You trace the ink on his chest and torso with your fingers, and he watches your reaction with a smirk.

He stands up and grabs your waist, picking you up and setting you on the kitchen island. He leans down and kisses you again, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. You can feel his erection through his jeans, and it's big, really big. You can't help but let out a moan at the thought of him fucking you with that monster.

He reaches around and unclasps your bra, pulling it off and exposing your breasts. He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling at it, while his hand plays with the other. You throw your head back and moan, grabbing at his curls and tugging slightly. He lets out a groan and grinds his hips against yours, and you can feel his cock harden even more.

“Harry.” You moan. “I want you.”

He removes his mouth from your breast and looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust.

“Are you sure, love?” He asks, his accent sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes, please.” You beg, and he smirks. You're so eager and it's making him impossibly harder. He undoes his belt and his pants fall to the floor. You stare at his cock hiding in his black boxers, and your mouth waters. It's long and thick, and you know that it's going to feel amazing. He pulls off his boxers, and his cock springs free, standing proudly.

He grabs your jeans and tugs them down, revealing the matching pair of lace panties. He groans as he looks at you, and his fingers hook under the fabric, pulling them down your legs.

“Fuck, Y/N, you're so fucking beautiful.” He breathes, taking in the sight of you. You're completely naked and exposed in front of him, and he can't help but marvel at how perfect you are. He leans in and kisses you, and you wrap your legs around him, pulling him close. He grinds his hips against yours, his cock rubbing against your wetness. He's teasing you, and it's driving you insane.

“Harry, please.” You whine, and he smirks.

“Please, what?” He teases, continuing his slow grinding.

“Please fuck me.”

He groans and searches for his wallet, finding a condom. He slides it on and lines his cock up with your entrance, pushing in slowly. He fills you up completely, and you cry out, arching your back. He lets you adjust to his size before he starts moving. He sets a slow and steady pace, and you're moaning and whimpering.

“Fuck, Harry.” You gasp. “You're so big.”

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N.” He groans. He thrusts his hips, his cock sliding in and out of you. You reach down and begin rubbing your clit, and the extra stimulation has you seeing stars. No wonder the smut in his books is good, the man himself knows exactly what he's doing.

His pace quickens and his breathing becomes laboured. He leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing the sounds that escape your mouth. He picks you up from the countertop and carries you over to the sofa, never breaking his rhythm. He lays you down and continues pounding into you, and you can feel the pressure building.

“Harry, I'm so close.” You moan, and he reaches down to rub your clit.

“Come for me, baby.” He growls, and that's all it takes for you to come undone. You scream his name and arch your back as the orgasm rips through you. He keeps his pace, thrusting harder and faster, prolonging your pleasure.

When you come down from your high, he pulls out and grabs your legs, flipping you onto your stomach. He positions himself behind you and pushes back in, causing you both to moan. His hands grip your hips and he begins pounding into you, and his grunts fill the room.

“Fuck, Y/N, you're so fucking tight.” He groans, his voice thick with lust.

“Oh, god, Harry.” You moan. The sound of skin slapping skin and the scent of sex fills the air. He reaches around and starts rubbing your clit, and the pleasure is almost too much for you to handle. He thrusts his hips, filling you completely.

“Come for me again, love.” He commands.

“Yes, Harry, fuck.” You cry out, your walls tightening around his cock. You know that anyone passing by your apartment would definitely hear the sounds of sex, but you don't care. The only thing that matters is the feeling of him inside you.

You come undone once more, and he fucks you through your orgasm. He moans, his thrusts becoming erratic. You turn him on so much, he never wants to stop fucking you. His cock slides out of you and he pulls you back up, turning you around to face him.

“I want you to ride me, love.” He growls, his voice deep and rough. You straddle him, your wetness coating his cock. He positions himself at your entrance and you slide down, moaning as he fills you again. You start moving, your hips rocking against his.

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.” He moans, and his hands grip your hips, guiding you. Your pace quickens and you can feel yourself getting close again. You look at him and his eyes are filled with lust and desire, and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen.

Harry's lips crash into yours and his hands tangle in your hair. He breaks the kiss and his mouth moves to your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. You let out a string of curses and he groans against your neck. He leaves a trail of kisses down to your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He nibbles and sucks on it, and his tongue swirls around it.

“Fuck, Harry.” You moan.

“Do you like that, love?” He asks, looking up at you with dark eyes.

“Yes, fuck, yes.” You reply, your voice wavering.

He continues his assault on your breasts, switching from one to the other. Your breathing is heavy and you can feel the pressure building again.

“Harry, I'm so close.” You breathe.

“Me too, baby. Come for me.” He growls, his fingers rubbing your clit. The combination of his cock filling you his mouth on your nipples and his fingers stroking your clit sends you over the edge, and you scream his name, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Your walls clench around his cock and he loses it, his thrusts become more erratic, and his breathing is laboured. He moans your name, and the sound is like music to your ears. He comes hard, and his cock pulses inside you.

You both collapse, breathing heavily. Your heart is racing and you can't believe what just happened. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You lie there in his arms, trying to catch your breath, the scent of sex and sweat filling the air.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Harry says, breaking the silence. “That was incredible.”

“Mhm, you're far better than your books.”

“Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it.” He chuckles. You snuggle into his arms, and he holds you tight. You've never felt so safe and secure in someone's arms, and you know that you're already falling for him.

[okiedokrie]

High Infidelity

Summary: There are many different ways that you could kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough. So what happens when you find someone who was all too willing to give you thee attention you craved, you said you'd only dip your toes into the idea, and yet, you find yourself already drowning. The novel you've been writing has been in progress for the better half of two years now, your writer's block beating you up, and your husband hasn't shown you any sympathy. Maybe a visit to the art exhibit from this new artist would jog your creativity, but what happens when this new artist offers you more than just relief from your writer's block?

Characters/Pairing(s): Xu Minghao (The8) x F!Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

AUs/Trope info: Non-idol!AU, Aged-Up!AU, Right Person (not) Too Late

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: Infidelity, very inappropriate conversations with a married woman, afab!reader, wears dresses, lmk if i miss something!! (Smut warnings under the cut)

Rating: 18+

A/N: banner and dividers by @daemour!! tysm!! This is also a rewrite/reupload of my own fic, "High Infidelity" on @pyeonghongrie, yes I reskinned my own fic.

A/N 2: Thanks to @nebulousbrainsoup, @kwanisms, @the-boy-meets-evil, @wooahaeproductions, and @gongiz for beta-reading!

Smut Warnings: tipsy sex (not drunk), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple stimulation, masturbation, lmk if i missed anything!

The rain soaked into your skin—cold and icy—piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

"I'm right here, honey, I love you." He whispers into your skin, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, one button at a time. He kisses your skin every time new skin is revealed to both of you, he kisses your skin so delicately as if you'd break at the slightest touch-

"Y/N, you still haven't dealt with the dishes yet." Your husband, Haru, said monotonously just as you were starting to gain momentum in your writing.

You groan, the interruption making you lose focus and motivation to write. You stare at the last word on your document, gaze burning into each pixel as if hoping that this piece would write itself.

Unfortunately, life said, "Fuck you."

With another groan, you rub and pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to settle in as your husband returns to work as if he didn't just cause you a serious inconvenience.

Standing from your comfortable computer chair, you take calm and even strides toward your kitchen, where only a handful of dishes are left in the sink.

And this little shit didn't even bother washing like, what? 8 dishes? He has to be kidding me, men.

You thought to yourself, your inner monologue only making you more irritated. But you wash them in silence, thinking of ways to calm down and clear your head so you have a clean slate to work with to get inspired again.

I think I should visit the gallery again, there's this new artist that I've been following. He's getting pretty popular, maybe I could draw inspiration from his work?

You think maybe this is the best idea you've had since you put bacon bits on mac & cheese.

Taking the time to visit this gorgeous gallery was the correct move.

Xu Minghao is a passionate man, you can see his dedication to his craft in all the pieces in this gallery. He was a mixed media artist, sometimes his work was pops of color on a canvas, others were sculptures made of clay, made with the most delicate of hands, and others were more niche, like the stained glass piece in another part of the gallery.

One thing about Minghao's work is that his subjects are also subjects of passion.

Paintings of a man's devotion to worshiping his lover's skin, a stained glass recreation of The Birth of Venus by Botticelli, and his latest masterpiece, simply titled "Passion", a sculpture of a woman in the throes of pleasure, with her lover holding her close to him, no gap between their skin, eternally locked in a passionate embrace.

As a romance writer, this is exactly what you need.

You take in this sculpture, the light of the gallery display emphasizing the delicate attention to detail this piece had, you know the man who made this takes pride in this, his work, skills, and dedication finally being realized.

You stare in awe at this piece for a little over 20 minutes, the more you look at it, the more entranced you become of the mastery of this craft.

You feel a presence beside you, a man around 5'11", slightly muscular build, in a turtleneck with glasses sitting delicately on his nose. He has a peculiar hairstyle, a mullet to be exact, and the most gorgeous face you've ever laid your eyes on.

"I see you like this piece in particular," He started, hands in his trouser pockets while smiling fondly at the piece, "'Passion' was a difficult piece for me to finish, ironically enough, I got bored of it quite easily." He continues, turning to face you.

"I'm Minghao, by the way, Xu Minghao. If you haven't already figured it out." He takes a hand out of his pocket, extending it towards you.

"Oh, I'm Y/N, Park Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Minghao. Your exhibit is astounding, I love your dedication to your work." You take his hand to shake it,

He chuckles at the compliment, "Oh please, save your praise, I know that name from anywhere. I love your latest work, that book was what inspired this entire collection, to begin with."

You gawk at him, oh my god, he reads smut. My smut.

"Oh my, what an honor! I'm glad you also enjoy my work." You receive the compliment gracefully, "Although, I do want to hear more about why you got bored of this piece in particular, such a wonder to the arts community, surely you aren't downplaying your work?"

He smiles, perfect teeth on display, you swear you’ve never looked at a man like this in your life. You were down bad for his smile.

"I'm not saying I think it's bad, I just got bored of the creative process." He explains, "Although I do want to continue adding to this collection, perhaps we can go and get drinks together? Exchange ideas?" he offers.

You ponder on this for a bit. Going out to drinks with a budding friend wouldn't hurt, right?

"Could I give you my number? Let's set aside a day to chat. I have to get home to my husband before it gets too late."

A smirk came into his face, something dark about a seemingly insignificant change in his expression, “Of course, I look forward to our time together.”

The mug in your hands warmed your palms, and your focus was fixated on the man in front of you. He talked about another piece of his, titled “Longing”; it was heavily inspired by his desire to find someone who shares the same passion as him, the longing to hold someone in a way that nobody else could, intimacy in its purest form.

“It sounds a bit pathetic, I’m known for my work in the art of passion and, to put it simply, sex; but I haven’t been able to find the company of a lover myself. Perhaps that’s just the consequence of being a hopeless romantic. Then again, you wouldn’t know the feeling of being lonely, I assume.” He said calmly, a small chuckle ending his tangent.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” You look into the mug in your hands, your reflection swirling in the tea. Your face looks back at you, eyes sunken in and sad, “To put it nicely… my husband robs me of solitude, but fails to offer me company.” You shouldn’t be talking about Haru like this. Your husband works many hours, tirelessly providing you with the house and connections for you to pursue a career in writing. But that wasn’t the reason why your anxiety was swirling in your stomach.

Looking back up at Minghao, the same dark expression sits on his face, a minuscule smirk, barely there even if you squint, “Well, we’re friends now, aren’t we? I could keep you company.”

That. That was a quality of his that you noticed fairly early on. You can never read his true intentions, suggestive prose with just enough deniability to gracefully reject him without the conversation becoming inappropriate.

But your anxiety wasn’t caused by that, no, it was caused by the fact that you didn’t want to reject him.

“I’d like that, Maybe we could head to a bar and get drinks there too? My husband won’t be back for a few months because of a business trip in a few weeks. I could use the company.” You say, looking at him through your lashes; he knows his effect on you, and the mental gymnastics that both of you play over the table was just appropriate enough that to anyone listening, it’s just two friends agreeing to get drinks sometime in the future.

But to both of you, well, only the two of you know what’ll happen once the sun goes down.

“Of course, my schedule is free for the rest of the month. Be sure to think of me if you need company.” He offers you a soft smile, directly contrasting how intensely he’s making eye contact with you. The way he’s looking into your eyes makes you feel vulnerable like he’s directly using them as windows into your head. You’re half-convinced he could read your mind, if he could, he’s a master at hiding it.

You haven’t learned much about him, but from what you do know, you can never take his words at surface level, much less his actions. The way he’s leaning over the table, elbows on the surface, and his shoulders relaxed. His closing the distance, even if just by a hair, and the way his posture suggested the epitome of familiarity, shook you to your core.

His presence is almost suffocating, his dominance over your mind silencing whatever protest his suggestions may have created. You nod dumbly, “Of course, be warned though, I think of you a lot.” This causes his smile to relax into a smirk, the kind that could pass off as a smile if you don’t think too hard about it.

“I’m glad to hear that. I think about you a lot too.” He says picking up his cup of tea, “So much that a collection was born from the thought of you.” He takes a sip from the cup in his hands, eyes meeting yours over the rim of the cup, the way he holds eye contact with you always makes goosebumps litter your skin, the cup hiding the growing smirk on his face, silently enjoying his effect on you.

“Ah, speaking of the collection,” He started again, after setting the cup down, “Would you do me the honor of visiting my studio sometime? I’ll text you the address right now, you can come by at any time if you’re interested.” Taking his phone out from his pocket, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, you pick it up. The small device, usually light, feels like a heavy weight on your palm.

Opening your messages, you see that Minghao already sent the address, a building about 20 minutes from the cafe you’re in right now. “Lovely, could I trouble you to pick me up when I decide to visit?” You ask,

“Of course,” He replies, a gentle smile stretches across his face, “I’d love nothing more than to see you more often.”

The first time you entered Minghao’s studio, it felt like a dream. The studio wasn’t small by any means, the place was neat, neater than what you imagined any artist studio would look like. “Make yourself at home, I’ll brew some tea for us,” Minghao said as he took both your coats. Hanging the heavy fabrics on his coat rack, he gently guides you to the couches with a hand on your back, the light touch helping to ground you in this new environment.

He shoots you a quick smile before turning his back to you, setting his electric kettle to boil the water at the perfect temperature for tea. He rummages through his extensive tea set collection, settling on a simple white ceramic set with wooden handles. His eyes meet yours briefly, taking note of how you watch his every movement with care and curiosity, the way you were fascinated with the way his hand veins jumped every time he set a piece of the tea set down.

The kettle finishes boiling, he finally sets it down next to the tea set. “I want to introduce you to this teacake that my friend from home sent me,” He pulls out a teacake about the size of his head from the drawer under the table, wrapped in a slightly stained paper. He carefully unwraps it to show you the rich brown of the aged tea leaves, “This is a 15-year-old aged pu’er, I haven’t had the chance to try it yet, so I’d like to try this with you.”

“What an honor, I read from a recent interview that you were waiting for a good day to taste that right?” You ask, trying to gauge his reaction, if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it,

“Of course, making a new friend is a special occasion, isn’t it? I’d consider that a good day.” He replies cooly, taking a tea knife and carving out a piece of tea to steep for a second, you watch as he delicately handles the porcelain set, the control in his movements reminding you of his mastery in sculpting, “You know, making tea is much like cultivating a new relationship,” he starts as he stands up to take the kettle off the stand.

“You carefully carve out your leaves, boil your water to the perfect temperature to bloom them, and steep the leaves a few seconds at a time.” You see him pour the water over the tea leaves, dried blades blooming like flowers under the delicate stream. “Each steep of tea is different, starting from the bloom until the flavor develops; and only then will you appreciate the true complexities of what tea has to offer.”

A small smile grows on your face as you watch him pour the first bloom onto his tea pets, “If my assessment is correct, you’re trying to correlate the developing flavors of tea with how our relationship is progressing?” He nods, confirming your hypothesis, “Then, I’ll ask you a question, which steep are we on?” you say with a cheeky smile.

Minhao grins at this, eyes almost disappearing with how wide his smile was, “Literally? The second steep.” He says as he pours more water over the leaves, you let out a chuckle at his little joke, “Figuratively? The fifth.”

You tilt your head a bit, “The fifth? I didn’t realize we were already at that stage.” you say as you accept his offer of a teacup.

He chuckles, “Well, I don’t just share my most expensive teas with anyone, so I might as well share it with one of the most brilliant minds I know.” he said while bringing the cup to his lips, sipping the drink carefully while making eye contact with you over the rim, winking playfully.

You raise your cup as well, the rising steam not being the only reason for your flushed face, you grin against the rim of your cup, savoring the rich and deep aroma of the high-quality tea.

After a while of banter and small talk, you finish your tea, setting down your cup gently on his expensive-feeling coffee table, he stands from his seat, “Could I show you something?” he said, holding his hand out to you. You place your palm on his, the warmth from his hand seeping into your skin. The touch was negligible, simple, even, but the contact with his skin sent electricity through you, like a violent jolt of excitement.

Minghao notices this and smirks, feeling pride swell up in his chest as he pulls you up from the couch, leading you to the other side of the room with a hand on the small of your back. He finally stops in front of a large canvas, laid across what looks like a bare-bones bed frame. You turn to him, curiosity growing on the expression of your face.

“What’s this? This looks fairly new, the paint on the frame still seems wet.” You ask, eyes raking over the splotches of color seemingly placed without much thought or care, it looked like the aftermath of a messy and angry paint spill.

“It is new,” Minghao starts, “I’m trying a new technique where I release frustrations by getting whatever paint catches my eye and throwing cups of it without much thought.” He shrugs, nothing particularly of note, but you do notice the amount of emotion that is in the piece.

“It’s not an elegant piece, but for a collection centered around passion I find it missing raw emotion.” He runs his hand through his face, frustration taking over his features, something you noticed early on was his emotions were closely tied to whatever art was around him, it seems as though the frustration in this one was affecting him at this moment.

“Yes, the human form and sex are great subjects, but pure, raw emotion is hard to capture.” He mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. “So, that’s why I invited you here. Tell me, as someone who’s written longing, despair, and everything in between. How does this make you feel?”

You pause and take in his words, turning back to the canvas and trying to soak in the colors, the shapes, and the emotion behind this piece. Yes, frustration is here. Yes, anger is here. But how does it make you feel?

“It makes me feel like I’m missing out on something.” You say simply, your stomach sinking just thinking about what that might entail. Minghao has a genuine look of shock for the first time since you’ve met him. His head tilted to give his attention to you fully.

“Really? Interesting. That’s the first time I heard that about this piece specifically.” He said with a lopsided grin, seemingly getting a new stroke of genius with your answer. He looks back at the canvas too, shoulders shaking from his restricted laughs. Your answer seemed to entertain him a lot. That much you can figure out, but you can never be sure what goes on in the mind of Xu Minghao.

Just then, your phone starts to ring, you only know one person who would call you at this hour—your Husband. You watch as the expression on Minghao’s face falls, face contorting into something short of a scowl for a split second before settling on his usual cool neutral expression. It was so quick that you barely missed the change, it happened so quickly that you decided it was all in your imagination as you ran to answer the phone.

You pick up the phone, “Hi honey-” You were cut off by your husband speaking,

“Get home, it’s getting late and you haven’t started dinner yet.” He said simply, before promptly dropping the call.

You stand there, the line going dead as you try to hold back tears. You take a deep breath, too afraid to show your face to Minghao in case tears were about to fall from your face. Grabbing your coat, you turn to face the door.

“Thank you for inviting me over, I have to get home now,” you said, your voice a little shaky, as you roughly opened the door.

You were out of his sight as Minghao stood alone in his studio, pondering. As silence took over the space, a dark smirk on his face.

'How long before you break?' he wonders.

The next time you and Minghao meet, you’re sitting on a park bench watching the autumn leaves dance to the silent song in the wind. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear leaves crunch beside you, seeing the tail of Minghao’s long coat swaying in the wind.

He sees you, a smile spreading across his face, his long hair almost covering his face. His fast-paced walking makes the leaves crunch under his weight rhythmically. You think that he looks beautiful under the soft brightness of the autumn morning, only ever seeing him in the harsh rays of high noon or the constant humming of fluorescent lights.

You feel the heat radiating off his body through your and his coats as he sits next to you on the park bench. “Beautiful morning, the view is exquisite.” He says, looking directly at you. You giggle at this, he’s always been such a charmer ever since you met him. You peel the notebook from your lap, “I’m no artist, but the park is too gorgeous this time of year to not at least try to capture on paper.” you say as you open it to show him a relatively crude sketch of the scenery.

“Oh? This feels like a threat to my career.” He says with a chuckle, “But, genuinely, this is an amazing sketch. Are you sure you aren’t an artist?” You think you could get used to how relaxed you were around Minghao, conversations with him flowed so easily, it reminds you of the times your husband used to be invested in you as a person. Perhaps it was easier to compare the thrill of meeting a new person with feeling the start of a romantic spark, it was a dangerous game to play with him.

“No, I’m not, but I can appreciate a masterpiece when I see one.” You say, this time looking at him. He notices this and laughs at the fact that his joke is being used against him. He closes the notebook, handing it to you to put in your tote bag.

“The weather is perfect for a walk, care to join me?” He said, offering his hand for you to take. You accept the offer, the warmth of his palm being something to ground you on such a dreamy morning. Leaves crunch under both your weights in synch, your hand moves from his to hold onto his arm, and you try not to notice the lean muscle of it or the steady and secure way he guides you through the path.

You breathe in the autumn chill, enjoying the comfortable silence that followed the quiet whistle of the wind. “Your book,” Minghao said, his silky voice cutting through the silence effortlessly, “The one that inspired the collection, I’ve been following your publisher’s updates on the series, and I was wondering if you'd be able to share your progress on the second book?”

“Ah, about that.” You grimace, and you shake your head, quelling the urge to complain about your husband’s lack of sympathy for your predicament. “Maybe I’ll tell you another time, it’s not something I can talk about at the moment.”

He hums, luckily, Minghao was never the type to pry, “I get it, ever the tortured poet you are.” he said in a joking tone, you let out a chortle at this, agreeing that you may or may not be one.

Both of you are stopped by a flower vendor, “You both are a lovely pair,” The old man starts, as he turns to Minghao, he asks, “Could I interest you in some flowers? I’m sure your lady would appreciate them.” He smiles.

Before you can correct the old man, Minghao speaks up, “Of course, could I take three of these?” He said, pointing at the basket of Jonquils.

“Of course, you’re in luck too, these are the last off-season flowers I had in my greenhouse.” the old man said as his nimble fingers wrapped the flowers in some yellow tissue paper.

“I'm really lucky indeed.” He agreed while looking at you, your cheeks warming up at the implication. Minghao accepts the flowers and happily pays for them, gracefully handing the bundle to you.

Holding onto the stems, your fingertips graze over the delicate petals of the bright yellow flowers. “Thank you Minghao, they're beautiful.”

He smiles at the way you look at the flowers fondly, simply adoring the way your face lit up; literally, the yellow from the flowers reflected off your face and gave it a yellow hue.

“Shall we continue to walk?” He asks, offering his arm for you to hold again, you hold onto it, the flowers in your other hand. And you let the silence take over again.

Before you knew it, you've spent the entire day laughing and talking with Minghao, only stopping at several vendors for food and other trinkets, feeding the ducks berries, and watching the fish in the pond.

But the day has to end at some point.

You regretfully leave Minghao at the train station, waving goodbye through the glass of the train doors as you watch his figure get smaller and smaller.

Arriving home, you try to find a vase to put your flowers in, setting it down on the kitchen counter, your husband walks in and sees them.

“They're ugly, don't put them anywhere where I could see them.”

He said coldly, you try your best not to scoff at him, still searching for a vacant vase.

Finally finding one, you decide to place the flower vase on the windowsill of your office, the bright flowers contrasting everything else in the room, the dark and neutral furniture your husband got for you.

You jolt, realizing you're comparing your husband to another man.

You expected guilt to eat you up at the realization, but really, you couldn't find a reason to keep defending Haru.

“Could you come over to the studio later tonight? I don't think I should be alone.”

This text from Minghao worried you a bit, you've been spending a lot of time with him recently, you met him 6 more times after he got you flowers at the park, and you never noticed that he could deal with something so sinister.

Of course, you agree to come, your closest confidant in your adult life needs you right now. You wait for your husband to fall asleep in his office, again, before you leave the house, walking to the end of the block before calling a cab.

Arriving at his studio, you already knew the code, punching in the numbers 150526 on the smart lock, the studio opens with a click.

You take cautious steps into the studio, seeing the silhouette of a man on the couch, his back towards the door, nursing what you assume is a wine glass in his hand.

He turns his head to face the door, “You came.” He said, with relief in his voice, a little slurred from the alcohol you assume.

“You called.” You replied. Shrugging off your coat to hang, you join him on the couch. He looked a lot more disheveled compared to the usual clean and put-together Minghao that you know.

His hair is slicked back, some pieces of hair falling onto his face, his tie loosened, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his collarbones and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And glasses resting lowly on his nose.

You look at his face, and you notice dark circles around his eyes.

“Drink, and stay with me. Please.” He asks, no, almost begs you. You don't have the heart to decline. He pours you your glass and you both toast your glasses together.

You take the normal sip and he downs the rest of his, taking in a deep breath as if to steady himself. “Y/N, there's something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach drops at this, anxiety filling the pit of it as you nervously wait for the rest of what he has to say.

“I think I'm in love with-” he pauses, “someone I shouldn't be in love with.” He finishes, leaning forward to pour himself another glass of wine.

Your face falls only slightly, a minuscule change in expression that neither you nor Minghao catch. You cross your hands over your lap as soon as you realize your silence.

“Why can't you be in love with them?” You ask. Your head tilts as you take another sip of your wine. He hums, a smile graces his lips, but it doesn't seem to reach his eyes.

“They refuse to be vulnerable with me, opening up throughout our time together then closing back in the next time I see them.” He says with some fondness, “Also, they're married to someone else.”

“You probably should've led with that.” You mumble lowly, “I see, I know that all too well, wanting someone you can't have, someone so close yet so far. It's suffocating, especially when you haven't felt like yourself in so long, and then this person comes around and gives color back to your sad, gray, life. It's cruel, actually.”

You realize you've been rambling, turning to meet Minghao's eyes, you notice an emotion swirling behind them, something bittersweet, a realization that may change the course of your relationship.

“Anyway, how did you end up falling for them in the first place?” You ask in an attempt to bring the conversation back to him,

“Well, at first it was just a cure for boredom, I saw how receptive they were to my advances and I thought their marriage served as a fun, harmless challenge for me. But I got to know them, spend time with them, I got to witness the color come back into their face and I couldn't help but find it beautiful. That fact that I did that, bring color back into their face, slowly becoming someone again. The moment I saw their face light up with a simple gift I knew I was down, down bad.”

You hum, thinking the person Minghao was talking about is one of the luckiest people in the world right now. To be loved by him was like witnessing Orpheus’ choiceless grief that drove him to save his lover from the underworld, it was like feeling the devotee's dread-filled need to turn around, it was like experiencing the immediate forgiveness of Eurydice.

You wanted to be loved by him.

You both continue to chat and drink, and it isn't long before the two of you finish your second bottle of wine, Minghao offers to pay for your cab home, and he decides he's going to sleep in his studio.

You reflect on the events of that night as you slip into the cold covers of your marital bed, your husband’s side tidy as it was for the past month.

You run your hand over the pristine and cold sheet, imagining someone else filling its space on your bed, as he does your heart.

Minghao added a new piece to his collection, his gallery is still a work in progress and you walk through familiar doors. The very same statue you were entranced by still sits by the entrance, and you see a very familiar figure standing in front of it.

“I feel like this already happened before.” You said cheekily, he snorts at this, handing you a paper bag with tissue paper peeking from the top.

“Maybe this happened before in a dream, maybe we were destined to meet under the judgemental fluorescent lights.” He jokes as you feel the weight of the bag on your fingers.

“What's in the bag, Hao?” You ask cautiously, mischief flashing on his face before he fully turns his body to you, giving you his full attention.

“It's something you might like, maybe.” He said, his confidence faltering toward the end of his sentence. Tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, he eagerly waits for you to open the semi-heavy bag.

You carefully move the paper to the side of the bag, seeing white porcelain peaking back at you, you whip your head with with your face showing an expression of surprise. Minghao smiles, enjoying your reaction to his gift.

“You got me a tea set? That's so thoughtful, thank you.” You say with a smile, inspecting the frog patterns in the glaze.

“You mentioned your husband is leaving for a business trip soon, so I figured you'd like a set so we can have tea at your place. I'll even bring you a teacake to keep.” He said as he pulled a hand out of his trousers, fixing a stray hair that fell from your up-do.

“It's perfect, thank you.” You said, looking up at him, a smile still on your face.

“Do you want to walk around the gallery with me? I added a few pieces since then, and I'd like to talk about them.” he said, offering his arm. You wrap another hand around him, the familiarity of his arm under your palm giving you a sense of calm.

You spent the rest of the day walking around the gallery and chatting, other gallery-goers openly gawked at Minghao. It was obvious, really, the artist is here in the flesh, and he's gorgeous.

Minghao stopped to entertain other guests too, seeing him in his element made pride swell in your chest. His work, and by extension him, is finally being recognized by more people in the community. His hard work and dedication paid off handsomely.

Stopping in front of a mural, you noticed it was a replica of a really old painting. A painting of Ares and Aphrodite getting caught by Hephestus.

“Oof, poor bastards.” You joke, Minghao found this funny too, chuckling with you.

“It’s almost comical how this painting compelled me. I don't know what drove me to recreate the thing as a whole mural, but we both know I'm a little crazy.” He says with a playful groan, you try to hold back a loud laugh by giggling into your palm.

“Well, dear Xu Minghao, everyone knows crazy people are geniuses.” squeezing his arm, you check out the side of his face. His side profile was so sharp and soft at the same time, the dichotomy of his features was an easy subject to study. He's a gorgeous man, too gorgeous for his own good you think.

You both sat down on the bench in front of the mural to chat, and before you knew it, enough time has passed that the gallery was about to close.

Minghao calls a cab for you, and you arrive home in-tact, but not safe.

“Y/n, where have you been running off to these past few weeks?” Your husband questioned you as soon as you entered your home. Your mood instantly dropped, feeling the weight of your actions all at once.

“I'm hanging out with a friend, and it's really not that deep. It's not like I've neglected house work at all. So you should have a reason to care.” You snap back, a little too much for such a simple query. Your husband rises from his seat, cupping your face with a gentle hand for the first time in a long time.

“You’re my wife, of course it's my concern.” He said, just as he was about to make you fall for him again, he said, “We haven't been intimate in a long time, I'm leaving in a few days, so I want to make love to you before I go.”

Ah, there it was. He only ever shows affection for you when he's asking for sex nowadays.

You nod, what followed was unfulfilling and unsatisfying sex. Missionary, a few pumps just to get him off, and he didn't even kiss you.

And obviously, he didn't make you cum.

Your husband is fast asleep in your bed for the first time in months, and yet you can't find it in yourself to be happy about it.

You take out your trusty friend, egg.

The jolts to life with steady vibrations as you press the toy to your clit, relaxing into the sheets as you imagine a pair of calloused hands roaming the plane of your skin.

Controlled pressure and technique only a sculptor could have, his hair falling over his face, and his eyes holding you gaze as if you gave him everything he could ever want by simply existing.

He looks at you like you hung each star in the sky just for him, just so he could watch your skin bathed in moonlight, twinkling like the most precious diamond he could ever have.

This man isn't your husband, It was Minghao.

Your orgasm came unexpectedly, the realization that you were fantasizing about him snapped you back into reality so violently that you ruined your own orgasm.

You huff as you tuck the toy back into its drawer, pulling up the covers to try and sleep off the guilt.

Your husband left for his business trip a few days ago, and you made preparations for your first guest in a while. You finally set up the tea set when you heard a knock at your door, springing up, you head towards the door to look through the peephole, you see Minghao dressed a little more casually, a cap on his head and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You swiftly unlock the door for him, he smiles upon seeing you, tipping his cap, he says, “Good evening, it's a pleasure to finally be invited into your home.” You greet him back, stepping to the side to let him enter. As he does, he takes his cap off to let his hair fall onto his face again.

He offers you the flowers and you take them, “I'll go find a vase for these, make yourself at home, dinner is still cooking in the oven.” You said as you turned back to find another vase.

After finding one and setting the flowers in your office again, you find Minghao setting a record on your turntable, a slow tune plays through the air, instantly making the room feel calmer and homey.

“I didn't pin you as the type to have such an extensive vinyl collection, you have good taste too.” He said, swaying to the music by shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“I didn't feel the need to mention it considering I haven't touched those in a while. My husband hates them.” You say solemnly.

“Well, he isn't here now. Let's enjoy the music,” he said, holding his hand out for you to take, “Dance with me?”

You smile as you take his hand, he suddenly pulls you towards him and you land on his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely as you sway to the calm of the music.

You think to yourself, This is nice, this is safe. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be married to Minghao instead.

You turn your head and press your ear to his chest, hear him breathe slowly, his heart beating rhythmically. This is the first time you were ever this close to him, practically holding him in a loving embrace.

His woody cologne almost distracts you, so seductive and masculine and you almost reach up to cup his face, to kiss him. Before you realize that he isn't your husband.

You're both snapped out of your little bubble when the oven dings, signaling that dinner is ready. You break away from him, already missing his warmth as you set the dining table, one that hasn't been used in a while.

You eat dinner with him, talking about your days and how work has been. It's a welcome change of pace from your husband’s tolerance of your presence. You didn't have to beg Minghao for footnotes on his life, you didn't feel like you're taking up too much of his space or time.

It's safe, secure. It feels like you're being celebrated for existing.

You dwell on this feeling long after Minghao heads home, your stomach and heart full. As you slip into the covers you wonder what it'll feel like to hold him under them, for him to kiss the crown of your head and whisper the three words you desperately wanted to hear again.

You fall asleep with the fantasy that when you wake up, he'll be right next to you.

Minghao invited you downtown this time, various pop-up stores of luxury brands recently opened and he just secured a sale of a really expensive painting; so of course, what better way to spend that money than taking a shopping trip with his closest friend.

“This would look amazing on you.” He said while taking out a dress, it's a color that compliments your hair and skin wonderfully. Minghao always knew how to dress.

“Oh, I'm inclined to agree, but I'm not willing to look at the price tag for that one.” You joke, shrugging as you follow him around the store.

“Nonsense, I'm offering to pay.” He said, turning his nose up. “I'm getting this for you, I'll ask the salesperson for more sizes so you can try them on.” He said, turning to the salesperson doing just that.

The salesperson nods enthusiastically, bringing the dresses to the dressing rooms and ushering you in despite your protests. Minghao only smiles in amusement as the curtain hides your figure, he sits on the bench near the dressing rooms in silence, scrolling through Instagram on his phone.

He hears the curtains roll open, it only takes a moment of him looking at you in the dress to take his breath away. It fits you perfectly, hugging your body deliciously. Minghao almost drops his phone onto his lap, his grip loosening, star-struck by your beauty.

“How does it look?” You ask, awkwardly fiddling with the expensive fabric of the dress, feeling a little too expensive to be on your body.

Minghao wordlessly stands from the bench, looking a little dazed, he turns to the salesperson and tells them, “We're getting the dress.” As he walks toward the cashier almost in a trance.

You're a little taken aback by his reaction, but nonetheless you change back into your regular clothes. As soon as you walk out of the dressing room Minghao Pushes you back in with more dresses.

“Please try these on.” He says, not having the strength to look you in the eyes. You comply.

It took you hours of trying on dresses and accessories to the point that you almost bought the store out. Minghao couldn't get enough of the mini-fashion show you were putting on for him, and it's not like the salespeople are complaining either.

You walk out of the first store with multiple bags in hand, you thought that was enough shopping for the whole year maybe, but no, Minghao pulls you into another store, and another, and another, all leaving with bags (multiple) of clothes.

It got so bad to the point that Minghao had to leave your bags in his car so you could free up your hands to buy more stuff.

You stopped trying to fathom the amount of money Minghao was spending on you, yes, he did buy items for himself too, but he looked much more satisfied to provide for you rather than procuring items for himself.

The car ride back home was filled with way too many ‘are you sure's and ‘you really didn't have to's. But Minghao was insistent on you keeping all the items he got for you.

“I'm being serious, you're a gorgeous woman, you deserve to be spoiled like a queen.” he said, turning to you while waiting at a red light, “You need to visit my studio in the clothes I got you, you'll fit right in with my paintings.” He smiles.

Your face flushes at his compliments, a bright and happy smile stretching across your face. You couldn't remember the last time you were this happy with someone. To find joy in the company of another felt liberating, you felt like you deserved this.

Minghao drops you off at your place with your new clothes, helping you get them into your living room like a true gentleman.

“I'll see you next time, Y/n.” He said stopping at your doorstep, annd leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of your head, he took note of what your shampoo smelled like and left. Leaving you awestruck in your doorway as you watch his car drive off.

This studio has become so familiar to you, like a second home almost. Punching in the code was muscle memory at this point, the smell of drying paint and clay becoming a calming scent.

You smooth over the front of your dress, one that Minghao got you, as you enter his studio again. Shrugging off your heavier coat, the beginning of winter creeps closer as the trees lose the last of their leaves.

Minghao just got out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his paint-stained shirt and apron. He looks at you, the dress, the way it fits on you. And he smiles widely.

“Hey there gorgeous, what are you doing all the way there? You should be over there with the rest of the art.” He says cheekily.

You giggle as you enter the space more, stopping in front of him taking his extended hand and following it, giving him a twirl.

He simply adores the way the fabric flows and shapes around your curves and contours, your skin practically glowing with life.

He fights the urge to kiss you, succeeding for now.

He guides you onto the couch, a turntable sitting next to his stone tea tray on the coffee table. ”Oh? This is new.” You said when you noticed it.

“Oh that? I got it for when you come over. I got a few records too, if you'd like to make yourself comfortable while I brew us some tea.” He said, untying his apron to hang on an easel, turning his back to you and he started preparing tea like before.

His movements and practiced, you'd guess this tea ceremony is second nature to him, considering he always talks about it. This scene is safe, familiar, it's comfortable.

He does this whole song and dance again, you've seen him do this over and over again but you can't seem to get sick of it. It's like you're giving yourself excuses just to keep seeing him.

But they don't feel like excuses, not at all, they're just more reasons why you feel deeply, and so quickly for Minghao.

Again, the both of you talk about everything and anything under the sun, him walking you through all his latest pieces, him plans for new ones creativity vibrating through ever cell in his body.

You imagine him talking so passionately about the future, maybe even a future with you.

Before you could realize what you were doing, you’re holding onto Minghao’s shoulders for support,

and you lean up to kiss him.

Minghao fights the urge to kiss back, he fails.

His hands come up to cup the back of your head tilting his head to deepen the kiss, pouring all his emotions into the simple, gesture of affection.

Your head was spinning, dizzy from his cologne and the wind getting knocked from your lungs as soon as your lips met his. It was electrifying, finally feeling the warmth of his body pressed so close, yet so far from yours.

Oh, you wanted him, so, so badly.

He pulls away first, heaving from the intensity of the kiss, eyes in a daze. Meeting your eyes again, he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss.

This time he's really pressing into you seemingly drunk off of the feeling of his lips meeting yours. He's just a man at the end of the day, a weak, weak man in the face of paradise.

He came back to his senses once he felt the cool metal of your wedding ring on his neck. Jolting back, he pushed your shoulders back, creating a significant distance between the two of you.

“I, I think you should leave.” He said turning to hide in his studio bathroom to collect his thoughts.

You stood there puzzled, did he not feel the same way you did? But why did he kiss you, twice? Something isn't adding up.

But moreover, you can't ignore the painful sting this rejection gave you. You wanted him, did he not want you? What was the point of trying so hard to make you fall for him when he just decided to back down when he finally had you?

You gather your belongings and leave the studio, the door clicking to lock behind you. The ride back was suffocating, it felt like you left a part of yourself in that studio with Minghao. And you fear that this may be the last time you see him.

You haven’t spoken to Minghao in the weeks following the kiss, your nerves on fire every time you remember how his pillow lips felt so right on yours.

You're standing in front of the mural. The one where Hephestus caught Aphrodite, his wife, and Ares, her lover, having an affair and having sex on their marital bed.

It's funny, looking at this mural. You spent your last weeks wandering his gallery, searching for his shadow, but he always seems to evade you so easily. He's marked you like a bloodstain on a pristine white dress, lingering like fog on a cold autumn day.

Winter is still young, yet you feel cold. So, so cold.

As if your most desperate prayers were heard, Minghao practically materializes next to you.

“Hi. I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak to you for the past few weeks. I'm a coward, a fool to run from you.” He said, both of you looking at the mural and not at each other.

Silence follows, you couldn't look at him, you couldn't speak to him. “Y/n I-”

“This isn't the place to talk about this.” You said coldly.

Minghao flinches a bit, not used to how icy your voice was. It usually greets him so warmly, so lovingly.

“Let's go out to drink, there's a bar that's walking distance from here, if you'd like go go with me. I have too many things to say to you, too many thoughts left unsaid. You deserve to hear them, at least.” He said, remorseful.

You really couldn't find it in yourself to stay mad at him. So you agree to walk with him.

The walk to the bar is silent, unlike your previous walks. You're so far from him, you even refused to hold onto his arm like you usually do.

It's early winter yet Minghao is sweating bullets, he's almost vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass. His nerves are all over the place, he's acting so out of character, nothing like the calm, cool, collected Minghao you've come to know over the past few months.

He takes a deep breathe before you both enter the bar.

A few drinks in and you’re already tipsy, “You know- hic- my husband is being a dick to me.” You drunkenly slurred, “This novel I’ve been writing for over two years now is fucking me in the ass- I- I want to finish it so desperately but all he does is sucks the soul out of me. He’s a giant pain in the ass-!”

Minghao snorts at this, loudly talking over the music of the bar, “Your husband is a fucking dick! Your work is amazing. If I were him, I would do anything to help you get rid of that writer’s block, you know, inspire you.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’d do that?” You ask, clinging onto his arm, “Thank youuuu hao bear~ you’re the best-!” You giggle into his arm, your weight pressing against his side. You’ve only known him for three months at this point, but his ideas and influence on your work improved your writing and motivation drastically.

“Hao bear? That’s new, you’ve only known me for- what? 3 months? You’re already calling me nicknames!” He holds the back of your head gently, pressing his forehead onto yours, “I should give you a nickname too… Starlight, how does that sound?” At this point, you tune out every other sound other than the sound of his voice and the pounding of your heart.

This man had you in a chokehold the moment you met him, you were fucking doomed from the start.

“Starlight? Yeah, I like it more than a little bit.” You say softly, your words almost getting lost in the noise of the bar.

“Let’s move to somewhere quieter, yeah? Tell me more about your work. We can head to my place to settle down for a bit.” There it is, the same dark, barely there smirk that plagues your stomach with butterflies.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Arriving at Minghao’s place, you take a quick look around his apartment. Everywhere you look is a pop of color, bold splotches of vibrant hues making the place look like it was pulled straight out of the 80s, “Hao, your place is amazing, the furniture brings me so much joy~” You giggle a bit, sitting down at the plush red velvet couch shaped like a seashell.

“Thanks! Most of the furniture is thrifted from retro thrift stores, I like this style more. It brings so much personality to the space.” He passionately talks about them, “Do you want anything to drink? I have water, juice, and beer here.” He says, rummaging through his fridge.

“Oh, just water, please.” You say you have a feeling that you need to at least sober up for whatever the night brings.

He takes two glasses of water and places them down on the coffee table. It’s the only piece in the entire house that is a neutral color, a fine hardwood. You couldn’t tell what it was at a glance, not that it was important anyway.

“So, let’s talk about this book that you’ve been struggling to write now. Could you tell me what it’s about?” He asks, taking a swig of his water, you stare at his side profile while he does, sharp yet delicate features, his Adam’s apple bobbing from his drink.

Bro’s so majestic.

“Well, it’s about an artist who’s losing passion for his work, told from the perspective of his lover. It’s a spicy romance, with, in my opinion, a correct amount of sex scenes-”

“Give me a percentage of how much of it is smut.” Minghao interrupts you,

“Like… 75 percent?” He snorts at this, “Anyway, I’ve been stuck on the last spicy scene of the book, the climax, pun not intended,” You take a swig of your water, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have experience writing that sort of thing, or lack experience in sex either, but my sex life’s been such a drag with my husband being gone for long periods and-”

Minghao interrupts you again, “And he doesn’t fuck you right, does he?”

The forwardness of his words made you freeze, you contemplated whether to reject him here, to tell him it wasn’t appropriate to talk about this with you, especially about your husband. You know how Minghao looks at you. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he wanted you, but he never acted in any inappropriate way. He never makes you uncomfortable.

This was no exception. The swirling in your stomach wasn’t because of unease, no, this was because of arousal.

“No, no he doesn’t.”

He leans in, kissing you. This time he's not rushing, no more pushing and pulling, no more things left unsaid. He wants you, he'll have you. That was a promise.

He lifts you from the couch, lips never parting as he carries you to his bedroom, peeling each other's clothes, bumping into walls and furniture. But you couldn't care less, you were lost in each other's embrace and you can't think of another place you'd rather be.

Half-naked on Minghao’s bed, who, need you be reminded, was not your husband.

His hands roamed your sides, the heat from his palms warming your skin, causing it to flush, his soft, plump lips pressing feather-light kisses to your neck. You could feel his breath behind your ear, his hair tickling your cheek.

“How would your husband feel if he knew what you were doing with me right now?” He asks, clearly getting off on the fact that you were in his bed, getting ready to fuck him, a man who wasn’t your husband.

“I hope he’d be disappointed, but at this point, I think he forgot about me.” You say with a chuckle at the end, trying not to ruin the mood.

Minghao gently pulls away from you from that, “What?” he asks quietly, the word almost getting drowned out by the hum of the air conditioning, “Sorry, I know this was supposed to be a taboo, forbidden relationship thing but… I’m angry at him.” He says, avoiding your eyes.

“I know I’ve only known you for a few months, but I never felt this way before. It fucking kills me to think that a woman like you would be forgotten, for what exactly? Work?” He said anger gradually filling his voice. His hand reaches for your face when your eyes meet, thumbs pressing down on your cheekbone. The controlled and purposeful movement reminds you just how pliable you are under his touch. He sculpted you into what he wanted you to be; beautiful, strong, unashamed.

You gently cup his face, still hovering above you, “Kiss me, Minghao.”

And he did.

His lips met yours in a searing embrace, just the force of his passion against yours was dizzying, fiery desire clashing to make fireworks behind the eyelids that fluttered close. You never felt this type of longing from your husband, never felt his devotion being kissed through your lips like Minghao’s tongue was exploring it.

At that moment, you knew you were gone.

Minghao pulled away from you, hazy eyes meeting yours as the string of saliva that connected your mouths broke. At that moment, Minghao was stuck in a trance, his lips coming to meet yours over and over like he couldn’t stop tasting your lips even if he tried. A sweet ambrosia, too saccharine to stop. He’s become addicted to your lips molding onto his like sickly sweet honey sticking to his lips.

Out of breath, he grabs hold of your waist, rolling over to get you on top of him. He reaches behind you, unclasping the hooks of your bra and letting your breasts fall free from it. He cups both of them while you sit up, grinding on his hardening cock through his boxers, he groans at this, reflexively squeezing your boobs.

Placing both of your hands on his pecs, you also give them a gentle squeeze. Minghao notices this and his gaze darkens, passing his thumbs over your hardening nipples. Your pussy clenches onto nothing at this, a soft gasp leaves you as you started to grind harder against Minghao.

His nails started to dig into your hips, his own desperately grinding up against you for more friction. Soft moans leave him as he throws his head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering close just so he could focus on the sensations of your clothed cunt grinding against his cock through his boxers.

“God, get off of me before I cum in my underwear like a teenager.” He says with a playful groan, lifting your hips off from his crotch.

“Right, you still need to cum inside of me.” You say back playfully, his eyes darkened at this.

“Fuck, you make me want to keep you forever,” taking one of your hands and placing a kiss on your palm.

He lifts his hips only enough to get his boxers off, shimmying them off to somewhere on the floor near his bed. You also take this time to take your underwear off, secretly hiding it under his pillow when you lean down to kiss him again.

When you both pulled away, another string of saliva connected you two. You took two fingers to swipe at the liquid, bringing it down to rub your clit while you lowered yourself down to grind on his bare cock now.

Minghao hisses, “Fuck, I can feel how wet and warm you are, sweet christ.” he breathes out a shaky breath as you grind your bare wetness on his cock, lubricating the shaft for later. You moan at the contact, body slightly shaking from the friction of the tip of his cock hitting your clit occasionally.

“God, Minghao, fuck I need you inside me.” You desperately whine out. You lifted your hips up to finally hold his hard cock to align it with your pussy, slowly sinking on the thick girth. You throw your head back at the satisfying stretch his dick was making you feel.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight and warm,” He moans, he’s not shy about letting you know how good it feels with how vocal he’s being, he takes your right hand and holds it tightly, pressing it against his chest. You could feel his racing heartbeat under his skin, “Let me keep you forever, please, don’t make me beg, run away with me.”

You openly gape at him from this, You’d be a fool to accept this, especially since you’ve only known him for a fraction of the time you knew your husband, but god dammit.

“Take me with you, anywhere you want to go. I’m yours, please take me.” You say desperately. You’ve never been wanted this badly before, and god, you wanted more, for the rest of time.

Minghao abruptly thrusts up into you from this, tightly clenching your hand in his, still pressing on top of his racing heart under the skin. You cry out in pleasure, somehow the sensation of his heart under your palm elevates your pleasure, making you go dizzy at the thought that you’re doing this to him, and only you.

You come close to your climax embarrassingly quick, the sensation of his cock rubbing your velvet walls so perfectly made your head spin. Your ears are ringing so loudly that it almost drowns out your sounds of pleasure, and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Minghao isn’t far from you either, the same dizzying effect taking hold of his mind too. He’s so close to finishing that he could almost taste it, his moans and whines of your name leaving his lips like a mantra, a prayer, even.

“Minghao I’m gonna cum-!” you say frantically, pressing your forehead onto his as he meets your lips with his for the nth time. You swallow the moans he spills into your mouth as you both climax at the same time. His heart still beating frantically under your palm.

“Did you mean that?” You ask breathlessly, “When you said you wanted me forever, did you mean it?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Exactly, I meant it word for word. Let me replace the ring on your finger with mine.” He smiles at you.

In the end, he did replace the ring on your finger with his, much more extravagant, and elaborate. Your husband wasn’t surprised at your sudden request for a divorce, since your marriage was already failing before you met Minghao.

Still, time was the ultimate truthteller.

Your husband found out about your High Infidelity around the middle of your divorce proceedings, and in a rage, he threw you and all your belongings out onto the driveway. In the middle of winter rain.

The rain soaked into your skin, cold and icy piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

You finished your book, it received critical acclaim and it was a New York Times Best-Seller.

And you got to marry Minghao, the love of your life. Who you were happily married to until the both of you grew old.

FIN.

[whereisten]

Promises

Part 1 | Part 2 | more coming soon

“I make no promises, I can't do golden rings, but I'll give you everything tonight”

Pairing: Mafia Leader!Jaehyun x female reader (cafe owner)

Genre: Friends to lovers au, fluff, smut and angst

Warnings: gun and violence mention, blood mention, stalking, unprotected sex, slight choking kink, slight impregnation kink, oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, overstimulation

Word Count: 6.5k

((A/N: this is a short fic series inspired by the song “Promises” by Calvin Harris & Sam Smith. It's been some time! Y/N is now a bakery shop owner! I hope you enjoy this short series, I believe there will be four parts. If you're a jujutsu kaisen fan, the Geto version will be added to our ao3 :)))

----------------

[2 Months Later]

It’s 10:30 PM, the chairs are up and you’ve just about finished mopping the floor. Jaehyun sighs and leans back into the driver’s seat of his car. He’d been watching you every night since he left. He couldn’t stand to not be near you, or to not make sure you were out of harm's way once you left work and walked home at late hours.

If he hadn’t messed up that night, if he hadn’t been vulnerable with you and given into his heart's desires life a selfish, touch-starved man, he would still have a friend. He could keep you company when you closed the bakery, and talk to you about everything. Just like the days before that night.

You lock the front door with your keys, and start your journey home. 

You sigh, dragging your hand bag over your shoulders and buttoning your coat. “Well, at least there’s no rain tonight.” Your eyes and legs are tired, and all you want to do is climb into bed and enjoy a cup of hot chocolate, maybe you’ll watch a movie. You put your headphones in and fix your hands into the coat pockets

You’re about halfway into your 25 minute walk when Jaehyun notices two men following you. As usual, he drives slowly, and without his headlights on the dark road so you don’t suspect being followed. The two men walked out of an alleyway as if they were waiting for you to pass them. Jaehyun’s brows furrow. He knew you couldn’t hear their steps because you were listening to music, but how couldn’t you feel their presence?

“Shit.” He grumbles, knowing that he will have to make himself known if he is about to stop these men.

2 minutes later and they still huddle together while walking behind you, however, you bop your head to a new song just released by your favorite k-pop group.

“Oooo I’ll have to add this one.” You say to yourself, adding the song to your Bakery’s playlist on Spotify. By the time you look back up, you see a car swerve right in front of you.

“Holy-“

“Get in!” Jaehyun unlocks the door of his coupe, which is now perpendicular to the sidewalk, blocking you in with no choice but to get in.

Your look of shock turns into one of disdain. You take your headphones out. “You’ve got some nerve.”

You walk in front of the car and flash both middle fingers before continuing home.

Jaehyun curses under his breath, swerving the car back into the street to drive beside you.

“Listen, let’s talk about it, okay? You just need to get in right now, I’ll take you home.”

“I don’t even know who you are.” You roll your eyes.

“Y/n! Stop fucking around! Get in!”

“Hey hey hey…no need to get aggressive, man…she said she’s not interested.” A strange voice says from behind you.

Before you can turn around to see his face, he drapes a heavy arm over your shoulders to stop you from walking any longer.

“Leave her alone…she told you to get lost.” Another man speaks, your eyes widen.

“You alright, sweetheart?” They turn to you, your heart begins to race as you get an immense feeling of dread.

Jaehyun quickly puts the car in park and jumps out. He walks towards them as they pull you back. “Get off of her.”

You reach out for him with pleading eyes. “J-“ you start, but you feel something circular pressing into the small of your back.

“Oh no, we’re saving her from you, she’ll be perfectly fine once you’re gone.” The man chuckles.

“Tell him to get lost or we’ll put a hole in you.” The other whispers into your ear.

You gasp and look back up at Jaehyun.

“Fuck off dude, you’re a creep. Isn’t he, sweetheart?” He presses it in more.

“I-I’m fine, just go away!” You look at Jaehyun in hopes that he will listen, one wrong move and it could be either of you with a new bloody hole to model.

Jaehyun lowers his hand and nods. “Okay.” He walks away and jumps back into the car. You feel a sense of relief, but it's short-lived as you are now subject to whatever these men want to do with you. You feel disappointment and despair. Did Jaehyun really give up on you that easily? Could he really abandon you in this moment when you needed him the most?

The men drag you back into a dark alleyway.

“Please! Leave me alone! Don’t kill me!” You beg for your life in hopes that they will just leave you alone, that they’ll have a sudden change of mind. But deep down you know they’ve been planning, they’ve finally caught a victim and don’t plan on stopping now.

They only laugh and tie your hands together behind you while you sob and plead.

“Quiet down, sweetie, you’ll live but only if you shut the hell up.”

One of the men says before throwing you into the brick wall. You grunt as you feel your back collide with the rough surface.

The man is about to say something else when you hear a sharp, high-pitched noise echo into the night. You shut your eyes, flinching when you feel blood splatter across your face.

When you open them you see the body of one of the men laid out right in front of you, a small hole in his forehead gushing out blood as his blank eyes stare at you. You scream, and the other man grabs your coat, yanking you in front of him before pressing a gun to your temple.

“Who the fuck is there?! I’ll shoot her right now!” He looks around anxiously.

The alleyway is completely dark, you can’t see anyone, but the man backs away thinking that the shot came from the right side.

He stumbles over his friend's body, releasing his tight grip on you in the process. You take it as your chance to run away. He tries to run after you, “Hey you bitch!, get back-“

Before he can finish, another shot goes off. The man lets out a blood curdling scream and drops to the ground. You quickly turn around, panting as you see his shadow finally come to light.

Jaehyun.

Your dark-haired savior walks slowly towards the crying man with a sniper gun in his hand. He lugs it around like it's nothing, but based on the length, noise, and precise shots, you know it’s heavy. You swallow hard as you watch his menacingly large figure create an engulfing shadow over the man.

As he walks under a street light that the man has dragged himself to, you see a completely unfamiliar look on Jaehyun’s face. He’s angry, no.. he’s outraged, and the dark glare in his eyes makes your heart race. Is it because he’s hot, or is it because he’s terrifying? You’re not sure.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t give the man a chance to beg. He cocks his gun and shoots his other kneecap. The man places both hands over it and cries out while laying on his back.

“No!! Please don’t! I’m sorry, we weren’t gonna hurt her!” The man cries out when he sees the grim face of Jaehyun looking down on him as he crawls away.

Jaehyun cocks his sniper gun again.

You finally snap out of your daze and run towards him. “No stop! Don't do this!” You yell out.

Jaehyun doesn’t respond to neither you nor him, he only aims for the crying man’s crotch area. He shoots him again and cocks his gun. The man struggles to back away from him as he aims it at his head. 

Jaehyun is so furious, not a word escapes him, he only feels rage and sees red. 

But just as he’s about to pull the trigger again, you jump onto the ground in between the gun and the man.

“Jaehyun! Stop! Please, he’s learned his lesson.” You pant, your arms till aching as they are tied behind your back.

“Move.” Jaehyun’s tone is dark, you don’t even recognize him.

You swallow hard, hoping you can get through to him. “Jaehyun..it’s not worth it, the police are gonna be here any second now, just leave.”

“I said move. I’m gonna blow his head off.”

“No! I won’t allow you to! This ends now.”

Jaehyun’s voice raises. “They put their hands on you! They were going to hurt you! They deserve nothing but pain!” 

“Yes! I agree, but you’ve done enough! Get out of here!”

Suddenly, police sirens start to get louder, it's as if someone called them after hearing the shots.

“Jaehyun..help me, please.” You look up with wide eyes, and finally, Jaehyun snaps out of it.

He finally puts his gun by his side and leans down to help you up. 

He looks back at the man and kicks his head hard, leaving him crotchless and bleeding out on the dirty ground alone.

The two of you run back to Jaehyun’s car.

 He helps you into the passenger seat before jumping in and speeding away.

“Jaehyun, what the hell! You–you just killed someone.” You cry as he drives maniacally to your place.

“Are you okay?” He ignores your panic.

“Okay? Okay?! No I’m not fucking okay, Jaehyun, I just witnessed a murder! There’s- there’s blood all over me!” 

Once at a stop light, he takes his pocket knife out and cuts your zip ties. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks as he examines your soft face and body.

You sigh and look into his worried eyes. Damn it, why did he have to look at you like you’re his world? “I’m..listen I’m fine, but what you did was not okay, you just killed-“

“It’s what I do y/n.” He says lowly, calmly, but with a scary tone. The light turns green and he continues driving. The street lights illuminate his sharp features and you feel your heart drop. The man you had a deep longing for lived to kill, and killed to live, that’s the reality of it. He had no regrets whatsoever after taking a human life.

This was normal for him.

His fist tightens around the steering wheel. Your eyes catch a glimpse of the thick veins in his arms. “If something happened to you..I couldn’t live with myself..I’m sorry you had to see that, but it was necessary.”

He looks at you then quickly looks away, hiding how his eyes started to fill with water. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way. You’re just trying to get home after a long day of work. What if he wasn’t there to save you? What if he lost you? And he realizes once again why you two could never date. You’re nowhere near ready to see him for who he truly is.

You take a deep breath and relax into your seat, resting your elbow on the door. Your fingers shakily press against your temple as you look out of the window . “Jaehyun..you can’t protect me from the world..you can’t just hover around and follow me everywhere.”

“Why the hell not?” His nose scrunches.

You flick your head towards him. “Because you’re not my boyfriend! You yourself said you regretted ever meeting me, you never wanted to see me again, and yet, here you are swooping in like fucking Batman!”

Jaehyun clenches his jaw and abruptly parks his car outside of your apartment building. 

“I mean nothing to you..you should start acting like I don’t.” You look down at the floor and say sternly.

He sighs. “Y/n..I—didn’t..” he stumbles over his words as you sit there in silence.

You look back up at him, and he wants to hug you, he wants to hold you and get lost in your beautiful eyes. He takes a moment to breathe in your scent, still fresh and pretty after a long day at work. 

“What?” You watch him as he stares.

He sighs and looks out of the window. “You can get out now.”

You purse your lips and nod, tears threatening to escape. “...the next time I see you outside of my job, I’m going to call the police.” All this time, you knew he was watching. 

Jaehyun turns back to you with a puzzled expression. Night after night, you’d seen his black sports car parked a few feet away from the bakery. You knew he was there, and you never approached him about it. 

You look into his eyes before opening the door and stepping out. Jaehyun doesn’t protest as you slam the door and head inside.

Once he sees your apartment light turn on, he drives away, angry at himself once again. What if someone saw him with you? What if they knew he had a weakness and knew where that said weakness lived?

He lays in his bed after taking a hot shower and falls asleep quickly. 

“Jaehyun..”

“Hnnn..” His eyes struggle to open.

“Jaehyun..baby.”

“Yes…hmmm.”

“Need you..” 

Jaehyun hears your soft voice and feels your warmth. He opens his heavy eyes to see that he’s back in his car. This time he’s in the backseat with you beside him. 

“Y/n..” He rubs his thumb over your cheek to check if you’re really there. You lean in and look into his eyes before kissing him deeply while closing your eyes. 

 Jaehyun turns his head and groans into your mouth as his tongue traces over your smooth lips. Cherry. The same cherry balm he tasted when kissed your lips the first time. 

The hunger in his chest grows, he grabs you by the waist and brings onto his lap, your arms still tied behind you as you moan. He handles you like it’s nothing, pushing your skirt up your hips and to your waist before pulling you down harder onto him. 

He releases your lips finally, a string of spit dropping down your chin as you whimper. He pulls his pocket knife out and quickly cuts the fabric of your underwear, a move that has your skin riddled with goosebumps in no time.

He looks at the knife, thinking about how he should also cut your zip ties, but also thinking of how he doesn’t really want to. Something about you being bound, restricted, and doomed to ride him until you swelled with his offspring made everything hotter to him.

He looks up at you while brushing his fingers over your opening. It's silky with your essence, already building just from your kiss. You throw your head back and start to grind onto them as he teases you. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, gazing up at your angelic face. He swears he’s already in heaven.

His fingers finally enter you, a high-pitched moan escaping you once you feel them stretching you out. 

“I-I’m ready!” You move faster, finding it hard to hold back as you’re so wound up already.

He pulls his fingers out and wraps his arm around you to guide you down onto him. “Good girl…almost there.” He whispers while watching you take him in.

The sight is so satisfying, he doesn’t know if he’ll last all night. You gasp once his tip kisses your sweet spot, but you continue to move up and down like you did with his fingers.

You move easily, your essence and his pre cum being all the lubricant you need to fit him inside repeatedly. He groans, rubbing his large hands along your thighs.

“So—good, I can’t” You struggle to move steadily with your arms tied behind you, you’re close, but getting weaker. You close your eyes as tears escape.

He tilts your chin, forcing you to open your eyes and look down at him. “Don’t slow down, baby, you want me to fill you up right? Well, keep going.” He chokes you slightly as you whimper. 

“Yes..please cum with me..” 

He could see your breasts bouncing under your button down dress shirt from work, he could see them pop open one by one as you bounced faster. And your pussy, so warm, so tight around him. He can feel his tip twitch as you clench around him, threatening to coat your walls at any moment now.

“Oh my.. GodI!” Your head falls back. Sweat runs down into the crevice of your breasts. He grabs your waist with both hands, taking over to slam you down onto him at a faster pace. He thrusts into you aggressively, chasing after a high that he knows he’ll remember well after tonight.

If you thought you could drop him after this, you’d be so wrong. He’d never been happier, never been hungrier, never been more anxious to fuck someone into oblivion like this. He could keep going if you let him. He’d have to recover quickly just so he can do it all over again in minutes, it would be difficult, but it’s not impossible.. He had to do it for you.

“Cum for me, baby, I know you want to....yes good girl, so tight for me.” He pants, his voice is gravelly.

“Jaehyun!” You cried out one final time before his eyes flew open. 

No. 

Jaehyun looks up at his ceiling and feels his bed under him. It’s wet with his sweat.

His chest is heaving and his dick is painfully hard, sticking straight into the sheet above him. “Shit. It felt so real.” 

He closes his eyes and rounds his fist around his dick to relieve himself, still imagining you clenching around him so beautifully while in his car.

He groans and wipes his forehead once he’s done. “This is gonna be hard.” He knows he should respect your wishes to not see him again, but deep down he knows he will have to. He knows he’s in too deep, and letting go is impossible at this point.

[One Month Later]

Jaehyun tries to let you go, he doesn’t watch you anymore..well, not every night at least.

He told himself he was getting better, and if “getting better” included installing a tracking device on your cell phone to follow you instead of watching you outside work, then yes, yes he was “getting better.”

A guy in his gang that acted as a hacker sent a virus to your phone through a text message pretending to be a K-pop album sale link. And just as he expected, you got too excited and clicked it without thinking. By the time you realized it was a scam, it was too late. He was in. You shrugged your shoulders and went about your day like nothing happened.

He didn’t track you every day but just knowing that he could when he wanted to was enough for him.

He had just welcomed a shipment with his guys, when he decided to take a break and check on you. His brows furrow when he notices you’ve stopped by a particular place between home and work once again. What could this place be? A new friend? Or.. a new man? No, you wouldn’t do that to him..or would you?

He jumps into his car and tells his guys to finish everything up before speeding away.

When he gets to his apartment, he looks the address up and finds that it’s an apartment building that belongs to a wealthy banker.

He bites his lip as he contemplates what on Earth you could want with a banker.

He relaxes into his computer chair and shrugs it off. He shouldn’t be intruding like this, it isn’t right. He’ll let you handle whatever it is you’re doing. It must be important and necessary. So he doesn’t let it bother him…that is until one day when you have a date with the man.

He watched you go out with the banker that aged you by at least 15 years. You wore a gorgeous red silk dress and did your hair up. Your skin looked immaculate and your smile shone brightly in the dim lighting of the restaurant. He watched from outside, holding himself back from marching in there and crashing the date. If Mr. Bank thought he was gonna get lucky tonight, he was very wrong.

You smile and laugh with him so much, Jaehyun can’t take it any more. He drives away.

A few hours later, you enter your apartment and kick your heels off. You shimmy your coat off before walking into the kitchen to get yourself some water. 

“Where were you?” A deep voice asks from the shadows of your kitchen.

You jump up and walk backwards. “WHO-“

Jaehyun steps out with arms crossed and knitted brows. His hair is styled back to reveal his forehead, and grey shadow rests under both eyes like he hasn’t slept in days.

He still looks handsome though, his black T-shirt clinging onto his toned biceps.

“Jesus Christ!! Jaehyun WHAT THE HELL?” You quickly turn the light switch on then turn to your handbag, fumbling around for your pepper spray.

“It’s 3 fucking A.M. and you’re just now getting home.” He tilts his head, confused as to why you act like he’s intruding.

Your mouth falls open, the audacity of this man.

“Are you crazy? That’s it, I’m calling the police.” You reach for your cell phone in your bag, but as you search for it, Jaehyun walks up to you and grabs your wrist.

He quickly places your hand behind your back and backs you into the wall.

Your eyes widen as he towers over you. 

“Answer the question first.” He grumbles, looking down on you like you’re some kind of criminal that’s been caught stealing.

You shake your head and gasp. “I don’t have to answer to you! I’m a grown woman!”

Jaehyun smirks as his eyes trace downward, floating from your lips to your neck and finally to your pronounced cleavage.

“This is a really nice dress, y/n, did he like it?” His eyes are filled with fire and jealousy. He looks almost disgusted as he thinks about you giving your body to someone else.

Your eyebrows raise. “You’re still following me? You’re insane!” You struggle to pull your hand away, but you pound against his chest with your other hand. He quickly grabs it by the wrist and places it above your head, like it’s nothing. His neck cranes down to get closer to your face.

“Let me go!” you yell. 

He shakes his head. “Not until you answer me.”

“Somebody help me!”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Even if someone comes, do you really think they can help you? Do you want to watch another person die, y/n?”

You swallow hard, and even though he is frightening at this moment, you feel hot and lustful with the amount of power he has over you.

“What’s your problem? First, you say you regret meeting me, and now, you’re following me every day! I can't keep doing this! So what if I moved on? Yeah I fucked another man, now what? You gonna kill me?”

Jaehyun flips you around so he’s pressed against your back and you’re pressed in with both hands held by him.

You grunt as your cheek hits the wall.

Jaehyun leans into your ear and whispers. “Mr. Bank loves that cheap cologne on his dresser. I see him use it every day. But it’s funny because I don’t smell it on you. And that’s how I know you’re lying.”

Chills run up your spine.

“W-we took a shower together, did you forget that I like doing it that way?” You smirk. Jaehyun’s grip tightens as he becomes even more infuriated.

You were lying, but you liked to see him get riled up, maybe just maybe, he’d leave you alone so you could forget about him, so you didn’t have to touch yourself to the thought of him, so you didn’t have to look at the empty chair in your bakery in hopes of seeing him there one night.

“You’re intent on pushing my buttons..even with you pressed up against the wall..even with your hands behind your back. Aren’t you afraid of how bad it’ll get for you?” 

You chuckle. “Are you threatening me because I just had the best sex of my life?”

Jaehyun picks you up off of the wall and lays you down onto the counter face first with a hard push.

“The best huh?” He flips the bottom of your dress up to expose your ass in your thong. He then taps two fingers against your clothed folds, you jump slightly at the unexpected contact. “And yet..your panties are still intact and you’re walking just fine.” 

He continues to rub his fingers against you, pressing them in just barely. You whimper quietly. “Your skin is cold. Your thighs are dry and you’re reacting to my simple touch. You smell like you did the first time like grapefruit and berries..seems to me you’re just as untouched as the Virgin Mary.” 

Jaehyun whispers so deeply, you can’t help but grow wet. Damn it, he really knew you like the back of his hand.

“And if it was the best, why were you able to go back to your place? Why didn’t you just sleep there in hopes for round two?” He still drags his fingers in and out, teasing his digits along your opening by pushing them in slowly.

“Unlike you, he begged me to stay tonight but I told him “no, I have to be at work in the morning.” You let out, you try to have a sturdy voice as you slowly unreel from his long fingers.

“Please, y/n, the more you lie, the longer this will take. You’re not the whore you claim to be..” he whispers against the back of your neck, giving you chills once more, but you shake them off and speak strongly.

“You don’t know me! I did unimaginable things with him tonight!” You wiggle to try to escape him, but the strong 6-foot something man doesn’t budge.

“Oh is that so? Show me.” He leans back and presses your wrists down with one hand while unbuckling his belt with the other. He then ties your hands behind your back with it and steps back. He sits at your dining table and waits for you to walk over.

“I’d need my hands, Jaehyun.” You roll your eyes.

“Come on y/n, see how much you can do without them..” he taps his thigh.

You sigh and walk over to him. Why did he have this control over you? What if he just ends up leaving again?

“I shouldn’t do anything for you, you’re cruel.” 

Jaehyun’s low eyes trace over your body in the red silk dress as you walk over to him. “But are you doing anything for me, per se? No baby, you’re gonna use me to satisfy yourself after a disappointing date.”

His hands can’t help but find your waist. He forces you down onto his thigh but doesn’t do anything other than look into your wide eyes.

You look onto his neck and broad shoulders, you smell his simple and fresh cologne. You wish you could run your hands through his full head of hair and intertwine your fingers on it as you go dizzy.

He lets your waist go. “Or...you can just sit here and tell me you hate me. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, you know that.”

Your mouth falls open as you look at his lips.

“Go on..I’m listening.” He leans back and tilts his head slightly, looking down onto you with those low bedroom eyes. His gaze makes you tremble.

You’re so turned on from his touch, you continue moving against his thigh. He’d gotten you this far, why not finish it?

“I hate you because you won’t leave me alone. You send mixed signals. One day you want me, the next day you say it’s unrealistic to be with me. Make up your damn mind.” The friction of his thigh against your opening makes you light headed, but you push on.

“Before we do this again..I need to know what the hell you want from me, do you want me in your life or not?!”

“Y/n..of course I want you in my life...it’s just not safe for you..”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’ll be fine.”

He shakes his head. “I answered your question, you should answer mine..why are you home so late? What business do you have with that man?” He clenches his thigh and the sudden action makes you moan and shut your eyes tightly, you move faster.

“Jaehyun...it’s none of your business.”

He knew you were trying to get close to the bank manager so you could get another loan for your business, you needed to make improvements in the kitchen, decorations, flooring etc. and the money you made wasn’t cutting it. You figured that if you could find the right man to seduce, maybe you could get what you needed quickly.

Jaehyun knew this because he had seen the Google searches on your phone that went from “how to get a loan.” to “how to best seduce a man.” Hence, the red silk dress you wore, the glam hair, the intoxicating perfume that was quickly seducing even him as well, the high heels you wore to bring out your curves, and of course, the bra that made your cleavage noticeable to even the stars above.

“..let me protect you..and I’ll give you everything you need.” He kisses your neck and whispers into your ear while bringing one of your straps down your arm. He starts to kiss your shoulder.

You move faster on his thigh, swiveling your hips as his grip becomes tighter. “..that’s easier said than done..I want...I need to be completely yours, I don’t need a bodyguard.” You whimper and moan as he sucks your neck. Sweat builds onto your forehead.

“I don’t need your protection, I need your love.” You say breathily before finally releasing on his thigh. You rest your head on his shoulder, trembling while feeling your legs weaken.

He looks into your wet eyes and caresses your cheek while zipping down your dress with his other hand.

He then yanks your dress down to reveal your hard nubs. His hands cup your breasts, massaging them before tracing his thumbs over the peaks. “So beautiful, and only for me.”

He sucks them one by one, caressing them with one hand as the other grips your thigh, hard, so hard you know you’ll be sore for days. You groan in pain from his fingertips pressing in deep, and if your hands weren’t tied behind your back, you would’ve pushed him away.

He doesn’t let up, guiding your body forward and backward so you continue to leak all over his sweatpants. “Jaehyun!” You cry out in sensitivity, you cum again easily but he doesn’t stop. He won’t let you go, he continues to flick his tongue against your breasts. Your back arches, your clit is stimulated once more by his thigh, but it isn’t enough. 

He lifts you up easily and lays you down onto the table. He wants to make use of his time with you while you are bound, so he slowly drags your thong down your legs before throwing it to the side.

“Stay still..” he commands as your legs wiggle in an effort to get away from him. You whimper as he presses his fingers and thumbs into your thighs to spread you further apart.

He licks and sucks your clit as his fingers dive in deep. Your entrance, already sopping but welcoming him nonetheless. Your back arches again. “Jaehyun!” You cry out as you watch him devour you. His dark eyes lock with yours as he groans.

The tip of his tongue traces over your sweet spot as you throw your head back. You cum again, struggling to break out of his belt and grab his hair. He doesn’t stop, licking up everything that escapes as tears escape your eyes.

“Please.. I can’t- slower.” You plead, but he doesn’t care. He wraps his arms around your legs to keep them open and fixed around his head.

“Mmmm you taste so good, baby, and you’re all mine.” He chuckles then flattens his tongue against you.

He wants to make up for all the time he’d lost with you, he wants to consume you forever, to taste what he’s been craving all his life. He eats you out until you’re begging him to stop. Your wrists are tired of fighting against his belt, you try to kick his shoulders away again, but he simply smirks and grips your ankles tightly. 

“Don’t disobey me like that again, sweetheart.” His eyes dark and threatening as he looks up through his lashes.

You can’t stop moaning as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your back arches, threatening to snap completely.

He finally finishes when he’s had enough. He stands up from the chair, flipping your body over and lifting one of your legs over the table. He pushes the waistband of his pants down, releasing his hard member and grabs your waist. He runs his cock against your slit, parting it slightly with the head to gather your slick. 

“Gonna be a good girl for me right? Gonna follow my orders and cum when I tell you to?” He asks lowly.

“Yes! Yes..Jaehyun..I need-“

He pulls you into him, your ass shakes as you moan. The angle created by one leg lifted drives you crazy as he pushes himself deeper and deeper. You can’t stop yourself from clenching.

“Fuck..so good..cum with me, don’t let anything escape..I wanna see you hold it in for me..”

He buries himself in deep with each stroke, allowing you to feel every judge and vein as he runs his dick against your velvety walls. The table shakes with each thrust, he groans when he feels you clenching again. He moves faster, pressing his hand into the small of your back to keep you still. 

“Yes, don’t..stop!” You release onto him and chant his name as he moves in and out slowly.

“That’s it..such a good girl for me..” he rubs your clit to coax another orgasm out of you despite you being sensitive. 

You can feel his abs on your back, you can’t take anymore. You open your hands and try to push him away. He pushes in deep to make you squirm. “Give me one more, okay..you’re my slut tonight, gonna do whatever I say, right?”

“Jaehyun!” Your hands fail to apply any pressure.

He chuckles. “Are you disobeying me? Tsk tsk..you act like you can’t take it, yet you’re gripping me like it’s yours..”

He rubs his fingers in circles with more force and you can feel your essence dripping down your legs continuously now.

He thrusts faster and harder, the entire table moves as he pounds you like there’s no tomorrow. “Cum with me..cum with me right now..I’m gonna fill you up so you don’t forget who owns this pussy. so full..so warm, you’ll never give it to anyone else, that’s a fucking order, understand?..”

You can’t think clearly, you become dizzy. 

Jaehyun grabs your waist tightly to slam your ass against his pelvis and reaches his other hand around your throat to choke you. “Y/n! Do you understand?!” 

You struggle to breathe,  but nod and cum again. ”y-yes! Yes, oh my god!”

A loud groan leaves him while his movement stutters. He collapses on top of you as he empties himself finally.

After a few minutes, he sits back into the chair, turns you around and brings your limp body onto his lap as you pant. He holds you close by wrapping you in his arms, tracing his fingers delicately against your spine. 

“Jaehyun..just let me love you..please.” You rest your head onto his shoulder.

He does love you, everything about you makes him ache, you make him soft and remind him that he has a heart. He’d let his mind wander too many times, he let himself think of a world where the two of you could live together, have a few pets, get married, have kids..all sorts of “regular” things.

But love? Jaehyun is left speechless, he doesn’t know what to say, but he also doesn’t want to break your heart again. He was beyond worried for you. He unbuckles his belt from your wrists and helps you up.

He stands the both of you up then sits you back down. He looks down at you as you wait for his answer with pleading, wet eyes.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.” He fixes his pants.

You stand up on wobbly legs, take his head into your hands and kiss him hard. “You don’t have to be sorry, just give us a chance.” You say once you break the kiss.

He kisses you back before pulling away “I can’t.” 

Your mouth falls open in shock. “What exactly am I to you? Just a quick fuck and nothing else? Just tell me!” You turn away from him.

He feels his heart break again. “No! No..you’re much more than that..it’s-“

You turn back to him. “What? What the hell is it, Jaehyun?”

“I-I don’t know, I have to go.” He can’t look into your eyes anymore.

“No..don’t.” You grab his hand and tug him back. “Not again.”

“Y/n..I’m ....” he closes his eyes and shakes his head, keeping you from seeing the tears in his eyes. Why was he getting emotional?

The truth was Jaehyun had heard those exact words before. 

“no..don’t” 

It was the last thing his mom said to him. He was 16 and hell bent on doing his own thing. He ran away from home and decided to live a life of crime. He was stupid and broke her heart in the process, leaving her to die at home alone a few months later. At 12 years old, he had made a promise to protect and care for her when his father abandoned the two of them to take care of his other family.

Jaehyun needed to make more money and by the time he was 16, his friend offered an opportunity to make more money than he could ever imagine. It’s what he needed to do for himself and his mom, or at least that’s what he thought at the time. He didn’t know that all his mom wanted was for him to be safe and to grow up as a hardworking man she could be proud of. He disappointed her..and he feared he’d disappoint you too one day.

You sigh and let him go. “I don’t hate you Jaehyun, I just don’t understand you..”

He turns away from you to not show weakness once again. “I wish I understood myself, I wish I didn’t hurt you.” He leaves, slamming the door shut as you sink down into the chair.

[diorsluv]

feather , the drama queen

“ i say she’s too dramatic ”

series m. list

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, missseraphina and 310,937 others

yourusername photo dump time 🗣️🗣️

guess who ran into connor bedard at the family function 😱 he was looking at me weird n shit cuz me and mark were cosplaying as rapunzel and flynn rider

also i love taking screenshots of my bf and his goofy brothers when they look stupid!

tagged: lhughes_06, markestapa, _quinnhughes, trevorzegras, jamie.drysdale, masonmctavish23, _connorbedard

view all comments

jamie.drysdale where did you find that pic of us.

→ yourusername use ur common sense

→ trevorzegras this feels like a violation

→ yourusername it is! ☺️

_connorbedard i was looking at you weird because you are weird.

→ yourusername awww cmon ur no fun 😔 we all know im ur favorite relative

→ _connorbedard we’re not related.

→ jamie.drysdale oh my god not even your cousin loves you yourusername

→ yourusername SHUT UP JAMIE

→ _connorbedard WE’RE. NOT. COUSINS?????

→ trevorzegras breaking news!!! bedsy and jamie are related 😱😱

→ _connorbedard my finger is hovering over the block button

username44 funny that she posts this RIGHT NOW..

→ username10 they all have her blocked they don’t know anything

trevorzegras WHEN THERES SOMETHING STRANGE

→ yourusername IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD

→ _quinnhughes aw that sounds just like the two of you

→ luca.fantilli WHO YOU GONNA CALL

→ rutgermcgroarty GHOSTBUSTERS!

→ adamfantilli 👻👻👻

→ yourusername quinn YOU’RE the strange looking thing in the neighborhood 🤬 _quinnhughes

→ jackhughes flashbacks to when that little kid got scared when he opened the door

→ _quinnhughes oh my god I WAS WEARING A COSTUME

username79 did anyone else notice who liked the post…

→ username3 good lord she’s back

luca.fantilli it seems war is NOT over 😔

→ yourusername ????

→ dylanduke25 luca i thought you had her blocked smh

→ luca.fantilli how’d you know who i was talking about unless you didn’t have her blocked either???

→ yourusername …

_quinnhughes everyone’s gonna start calling me depressed now 😐

→ yourusername sweetie they’ve been calling you depressed keep up

→ _quinnhughes 😨

→ jackhughes 😱

→ lhughes_06 🤯

dylanduke25 let’s give me the credit for that costume idea!

→ yourusername you told me to dress up as mother gothel.

→ dylanduke25 out of love 🤗

→ markestapa YOU TOLD ME TO DRESS LIKE THE FUCKING HORSE.

→ lhughes_06 HEY MAXIMUS IS A GREAT CHARACTER

edwards.73 why is mark at the family function 🤨

→ yourusername his mama wanted to come 😈

→ markestapa that’s a lie she forced me to come because i was the only one willing to dress up as flynn rider for her

→ edwards.73 …why are you dressing up in costumes at the family function?????

→ yourusername THE KIDS ALWAYS DO A LITTLE COSTUME PLAY CONTEST THING

→ jamie.drysdale she made me dress up as the lorax when we were in middle school

→ yourusername stop complaining i was literally mr o’hare

→ jamie.drysdale AND THEN YOU MADE ME LORD FARQUAD THE YEAR AFTER THAT

→ yourusername 🙄🙄

→ trevorzegras pics or it didn’t happen.

lhughes_06 you really snuck that cute ass pic of you thinking we wouldn’t notice

→ yourusername ew i hate you

→ lhughes_06 you love me

→ yourusername 🙄

→ lhughes_06 say it ☹️

→ yourusername 🥱

→ jackhughes PLEASE JUST SAY IT ALREADY I CANT STAND HIS WHINING

→ yourusername no can do jacky boy 😓

→ lhughes_06 you little shit

→ yourusername luv u too 😒😒

username10 connor looks so done

username98 quinn has never had a good pic of himself posted by any of his friends 💀

mackie.samo I COULDVE BEEN FLYNN RIDER WHY DIDNT U ASK ME

→ yourusername i asked mark first 😓

→ markestapa HAH take that

colecaufield i took that second photo 😒

→ yourusername our lovely backup photographer 🫶🫶

→ lhughes_06 your quality is kinda ass

→ colecaufield BRO i took it on your phone???

missseraphina

liked by yourusername and 202 others

missseraphina i know you miss me, bc why else would you have texted me last night? 🥰

view all comments

username24 oh babe.. that’s not…..

username8 girly this is a bit obsessive don’t you think? 😭

username61 he’s taken. TAKEN.

username82 yesss girl get your man back!!

→ username40 …as in the one that’s in a relationship rn??

username77 sweetie just find someone else already

username95 I THOUGHT THEY ALL BLOCKED HER but lil drizz just liked the post what

→ yourusername it gave me a good laugh what can i say

username43 they’re making an absolute mockery out of her

username20 LMFAOOO

username18 don’t tell me she’s still going on with ts 😭😭

username55 but let’s think about it.. she wouldn’t have posted this unless he actually texted her

username39 it’s bc he still wants u 😝😝

→ username14 i KNOW you’re not talking about luke hughes 💀

yourusername

liked by adamfantilli, jamie.drysdale, dylanduke25, and 347,252 others

yourusername oh girl you’re obsessed 🥱

view all comments

username90 HELL YEAH we’re back on the drama train

jamie.drysdale i thought i told you to block her 😑

→ yourusername I DID but then all my friends were telling me abt the shit she was posting and i couldn’t resist 😞😞

mackie.samo you’re so petty

→ yourusername aw cmon mack you know you love my pettiness 🤗🤗

→ mackie.samo uh huh i definitely do

→ markestapa bro ur literally pettier than she is

→ mackie.samo give me ONE good example

→ markestapa you blocked me for a week because i said your hair looks like a rat lives in it 😐

→ mackie.samo thanks for the reminder im blocking you again

username10 babe ur feeding into the drama 😭

→ yourusername i know 😈

username34 WHEN SHE PLAYS MULTIPLE INSTRUMENTSSSSS

username28 our multi-talented queen!!

adamfantilli will we ever be done with the couple-y shit 😒

→ yourusername when she’s done obsessing over my man 🫶

→ lhughes_06 what’s that heart for yourusername

→ edwards.73 you’re so possesive luke get over yourself 🙄🙄

→ adamfantilli FR

→ markestapa FR

→ luca.fantilli FR

→ jackhughes FR

→ rutgermcgroarty FR

→ _alexturcotte FR

→ _quinnhughes FR

→ trevorzegras FR

→ dylanduke25 FR

→ jamie.drysdale FR

→ colecaufield FR

→ mackie.samo FR

→ yourusername not again 😭

username88 is she ever gonna go away

luca.fantilli but when you think about it.. luke probably DID text her to provoke that post

→ yourusername LMFAO he would neverrrrr right? lhughes_06

→ lhughes_06 um

→ lhughes_06 i don’t wanna lie to you

→ yourusername oh

→ luca.fantilli oh shit 🤯

→ jamie.drysdale what.

→ markestapa DUDE I THOUGHT YOU BLOCKED HER lhughes_06

→ edwards.73 there’s no fucking way

→ _quinnhughes …

username20 goddamn what happened under luca’s comment 😭😭

username24 holy shit there’s no way luke actually texted her again

username80 oh my god???

notes ) cliffhanger 🙊🙊 yes we’re back but not really (?) this one’s been sitting in the drafts for a while so.. i hope it’s fairly adequate LMAOO

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s @jackquinnswife @freds-slut @love4ldr @blueeyedbesson @43hughes @v1olentdelights @dancerbailey3 @random-human02 @ho3forfakeguys @loveforaugust @cstads-blog @h0e4fictionalme-n @bunting58

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Good Cop, Bad Cop: TakeMikey x Sensitive!Reader

♡ NSFW, fem reader, false accusations and mentions of murder, reader is referred to as broad, doll, and angel, Mikey is a crooked cop, Takemichi enables Mikey's behavior, reader is intimidated by Mikey but nothing happens without her consent, reader is willing to fuck for freedom, camera-free interrogation room, groping, slight choking, tongue kissing, nipple play, fingering + oral->fem receiving, written with Bonten!Mikey and Timeskip!Michi in mind ♡

note: This was an anon request I got (and lost oops-) and took me a million years to finish, my writer’s block was fucking me over also it's kinda long lol, anyways I hope y’all enjoy this and I really hope this reaches the anon who requested it 🩷

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

You were always a good person, well maybe not good, but you were a law-abiding individual. You never thought you would be arrested a day in your life, but now you were seated at a table in an interrogation room. Sat across from you were two cops, a white-haired cop and a dark-haired cop. The white-haired cop seemed colder, more irritated and restless. While the dark-haired cop seemed kinder and slightly softer. Tears spilled from your eyes as your mind raced, mostly from confusion. The dark-haired cop spoke up. “Hi y/n, I’m Detective Hanagaki. This is my partner,” He motions to the white-haired cop. “Detective Sano. Do you know why you’re-” “Oh please, cut the sugar coating bullshit Takemichi!” Detective Sano interrupted. “Listen broad, we got word from some…informants, that you were seen in the vicinity of this man right before he was killed.”

He nonchalantly tosses a picture of a dead man on the table, he looked well put together, aside from the obvious bullet wound in his head. “So…why’d you do it? Is he an ex-boyfriend? Ex-employer? Were you trying to rob him?” You tremble slightly as he raises his voice, throwing questions and accusations at you. “I didn’t do anything! I don’t even know that man!” Detective Sano stood up and slammed his hands on the table. “Stop fucking lying!” “Mikey calm down!” Takemichi interjected. “Y/n, just tell us the truth..if it was self-defense-” “I didn’t do anything! I don’t understand why you’re not comprehending and why the hell your partner is trying to pin this on me!” “Because you did it, just admit it already!” “I didn’t do shit!” He leans in close, his dark eyes staring you down as tears stream down your face. He lets out a frustrated sigh and walks over to your side of the table. He stands behind your chair, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“We could easily put you away if we add a little evidence. Or we could just let you go and admit that we were mistaken...but you’ll have to work for it~” A shiver shoots down your spine as you realize what he’s implying and you look over at Takemichi for some type of assistance. He looks back at you with guilt ridden eyes, then proceeds to get up and pull your chair out so you’re facing him. Mikey is still standing behind you, his rough hands on your shoulders, holding you firmly in place. Takemichi places his hands on your thighs and gets on his knees, his blue eyes dhining brightly as he looks up at you. “May I?” He questions, his hands gliding from your thighs to the button of your pants, awaiting your consent. “I suggest you think quickly before we change our minds.” Mikey’s voice echoed behind you. You hesitated, before quickly nodding your head and giving him the go ahead. He unbuttoned your pants, slowly pulling them off of you. His breath hitched slightly as he stared at your panties, just a singular piece of fabric between his fingers and your cunt. He gently slid his finger over your clothed clit, reveling in the way you shivered under his touch.

Mikey moves his hands from your shoulders to your chest, lightly groping you before he leaned down and started planting harsh kisses on your neck. Once he considered you to be ready, Takemichi gripped your thighs and pulled you closer to him, hurriedly pulling your panties down. When he lays eyes on you he swears to himself that your pussy was the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. The way your juices started to drip down your thighs had him throbbing in his pants, but he was more focused on your pleasure first. He slowly spreads your legs, getting closer until his tongue is pressed against your clit. At the same time, Mikey’s groping becomes more desperate, his hands move to your waist to pull your shirt up. He rips your bra off, giving your breasts a rough squeeze before pulling your face towards his and kissing you. His tongue glides over your bottom lip, asking for access to your mouth. You part your lips and allow his tongue to explore your mouth. Takemichi works your clit with his tongue while his middle finger slides back and forth over your entrance. After slipping his finger inside, he momentarily came to his senses. He knows this is wrong, but he’s not gonna stop because the way you’re gripping him feels so fucking right.

After a while he slips another finger in, whimpering at how tight you feel. His tongue still hungrily lapped at your clit, slurping up your sweet juices. Mikey’s hands roamed your body, always returning to your chest. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples and he enjoyed every little noise you made for him. He looked down at Takemichi, who was practically drowning in your pussy, and spoke loud enough for him to hear. “I think it’s ‘bout time for this broad to cum for us, right Michi?” Takemichi looked up at Mikey, then turned his attention to you. Tear stains soaked your flushed face, but he could tell by the look in your eyes that you wanted this. He nodded in agreement and picked up the pace of his fingers, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your moans were slightly muffled by Mikey’s mouth and the grip he had on your throat was almost suffocating. He pulled away and spat words of encouragement at you. “You’re doing so good doll, now why don’t you go ‘head and gush on Michi’s tongue~” He covered your mouth as you moaned and bit down on your neck as you came, leaving kisses on the bite mark after.

Takemichi pulled away from your pussy, softly smiling up at you and wiping your juices off his face with his shirt sleeve. Before any of you could break the silence, Mikey’s phone went off. He picked it up, answering the person on the other end with annoyance in his voice. He stayed silent the rest of the call, nodding occasionally, and then hung up. “Good news broad, they caught the son of a bitch who killed that guy. I guess you’re good to go...unless Michi has any objections?” You both looked down at Takemichi, waiting for his response. He smirked at you and prepared to sheepishly ask you to stay. “Could you...give me one more angel?” Mikey chuckled at Takemichi’s shyness, before reaching down and holding your legs open.

Seems like you aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katshimizuu @happy-trenchcoated-impala @prncessrindou @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Just The Facts

Week #14 Prompt: "Can you hear me?" | Word Count: 813 | Rating: T | POV: Erica | Characters: Erica, Steve | CW: Language, Minor Allusions to Period-Typical Microaggressions | Tags: S4 "The Piggyback" Missing Scene, Scoops Troop Forever

Erica runs.

She hurries, just like Lucas asked. 

Her knee hurts, her back, her ankle. 

She feels sprung, in a way she never has before. Not crawling through the ductwork of the mall. Not in the elevator, surging down, down, down. That had been an adventure. 

Scoops Troop, solving the mystery. Taking down the big bad. 

It had been fun.

This isn't fun.

Not anymore. 

She barrels down the staircase, and out the front door, and straight across the street to the run-down park. She picks up her abandoned walkie, and presses the button down, holding it tight.

"Can you hear me? Code red. Code red! Over," she says, letting up on the button. And there's no response, just static. "Dustin?"

"Robin?"

"Steve?"

"Anyone?"

There's no one, "Code red. I need an ambulance. Hang on. I'm going for help."

And she runs down the street. Runs to the nearest house on the block that has any lights on, and bangs on the door. When it opens, she holds up her hands. Just the facts. That's all she needs to give.

"I'm Erica Sinclair. I live on Maple. My brother's hurt, and we need an ambulance."

Erica is running up the sidewalk when she sees it, the house ripping apart and she stutters, stopping, waiting to see where she'll be able to go from here. 

She's not even sure she can get back in the house. Not sure if there's anything left to get back to, not in there. Not now.

Lucas. Max.

She called for help. 

Lucas told her to, and she did.

Sirens are wailing in the distance, but she can't be sure if they're headed her way or not. Not now. There's a jagged line ripped through the earth, and the damage must be bad. Really, bad. All over.

Erica wants to go home. She wants her mom. She wants her dad. She wants Lucas.

Right now, she has none of those things.

So, she sits on the grass, and holds her leg. It hurts in several places, and she's scared. She won't cry, though. She won't.

And she doesn't cry, and she's proud of herself as she finally hears a car coming up the street, moving fast, and she hopes it's the ambulance.

It's not. 

But it might be better.

"What happened?" Steve screams as soon as his head pops up out of the car, then he's barreling towards her from down the road, where'd he'd parked as close as he could get to the falling apart house.

"I got tackled!" she screams, and she doesn't know why. That's not important. Max is hurt. Lucas too, probably.

Her stupid knee doesn't matter.

"By who?!" Steve screams back, falling to his knees, face twisted into a grimace as he hits the ground, sitting back on his haunches. "How hurt are you?" he asks, his hands touching her arms, her face, looking over her.

She thinks maybe she should ask him the same thing.

"I don't know. Some basketball goon. I'm okay. Max. Max is upstairs. With Lucas. It happened," she says, and Steve looks up. 

"Shit," he says.

"My thoughts exactly," she echoes.

The ambulance finally pulls up behind Steve's car, and Steve takes over, making her sit there, demanding that she not move. 

For once, she listens.

The ambulance takes Max, and Lucas crawls in with her after a small argument, but Steve vouches for him, and they seem to take his word when they wouldn't believe Lucas saying the same, exact thing.

She wants to think it's because Steve's older, because he's a Harrington, but she knows that's not all of the whole story, and she pushes it out of her mind. She got help. She did what Lucas asked her to do, and Steve's here now.

She doesn't have Lucas, or her mom or dad. But she has Steve.

And Steve's moving as if he's gonna pick her up, holding out his hands, like he expects her to be lifted onto his hip. Like she's a baby.

"What do you think you're doing, nerd?" she asks, but there's no heat, not tonight, "I'm eleven, not five."

Steve laughs, "Of course you are. Piggyback?"

Well, her body does hurt from being tackled by an overgrown horse's ass of a basketball player.

She nods, and Steve squats, letting her climb up. He moves stiffly, and winces as she wraps her legs around his sides, and she thinks maybe she should have declined his offer, just to keep from hurting him worse than he clearly already is.

"I'm eleven," she says softly, more to herself than him.

"I know you are, and none of this was cool," he says, hoisting her higher onto his back.

And that's what does it. It's embarrassing, and she couldn't explain it if she tried, but she buries her face in Steve's back, and finally cries.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

[echo-stimmingrose]

I'm getting so fucking sick of the pjo fandom. It was bad before yes, but ever since the show casting came out, y'all's behavior has been down right disgusting.

The harassment Leah, a literal child, faces due to the color of her skin from you racist fucks is just outright appalling and every single one of you should be ashamed of yourselves. You pieces of shit even got her social media account banned and have told her to kill herself because she's black. And I don't wanna hear "it's just cause of the color of her hair!" Cause it's not and we all know it's not.

Two, the treatment of fan artists is just gross. Multiple fan artists are getting their art stolen and whitewashed not to mention the harassment they get whenever they don't draw a character exactly the way people want. Guess what, their art isn't for you, and you aren't fucking entitled to it.

And three, I was really hoping that y'all would be more accepting of people who just watch the show. But no, you're calling them idiots and harassing them just for not knowing the biggest fucking plot twist of the first book. (Most of y'all didn't know Luke was the traitor when you first read the books either, so shut the fuck up) I need y'all to get off of your damn high horses, you are not better than them just because you've read the books. Your opinion of the show doesn't fucking matter, let people enjoy it and stop telling them to "just read the books" especially if they've said they don't want too. The show makes the story of Percy Jackson more accessible to more people and your hatred of show watchers are driving people away from the fandom. Most of y'all have forgotten, but the book series is about kids with adhd and dyslexia, two disabilities that make it hard to read through one book let alone an entire book series. Not to mention that books are expensive and not everyone has access to them. If you don't like the show, fine, don't watch it, but leave the people who are the fuck alone.

And four, and this is less about the show and just about shipping in general. But ship discourse is the dumbest shit I have ever seen. People are literally told to go kill themselves because of what they ship. It doesn't matter how gross you think a ship is, they're fictional characters; leave people alone and learn how to use the fucking block button. If you don't like a ship you can make your own damn post and tag it as 'anti*ship*'. do not go onto someone's post about that ship and start hating on what they're talking about, it just makes you an asshole. There are ships I don't like all that much so I've blocked the damn tag, it's so easy. I've even blocked the anti tag for ships I ship because there's no point in reading something hating on something I like. Stop hurting your own feelings by reading shit you know will upset you and leave people the fuck alone. (If you're a roleplay account it still doesn't give you the right to hate on someone's ship, especially on their posts, again leave people alone).

People are leaving the fandom because of y'all's behavior and y'all need to learn some basic human decency and grow the fuck up.