#but I ask that you wait a little longer. It's time to put your cards on the table. And you won't regret it <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[myeagleexpert]

The Perfect Boyfriend (PT 3)

𝕾𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖙 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝕴 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖜𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖊𝖝𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝕴'𝖒 𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖋 𝕴 𝖘𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖘𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚, 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖑, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖓'𝖙 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖄𝖔𝖚'𝖛𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖒𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖟𝖞 𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝕴'𝖛𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖜𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖑𝖊𝖊𝖕

Doppleganger/Skinwalker!Yandere x YN (AFAB)Summary: Your relationship with Kain has never been one of the best, but recently it's like you've been thrown off an abyss over and over again. Oh, and there's a dog too, but he's not important. Anyway… with a storm of emotions in your mind, you end up leaving a gap that a certain creature will take advantage of. Warnings: (Toxic relationships, obsessed relationships, mental manipulation, the smell of rot, description of death, description of fear and panic, a little sentimental smut, The thing loves you - too much.) Uncertain motives. Lots of couple fights and domestic violence, but YN defends herself and fights harder, this story takes place before chapter 1, you will now see what the original Kain was like.The term 'YN' and 'you' is used several times in the fanfic for better grammatical use, my first time writing something like this, so please be gentle. <3

𝕭𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 < < 𝕮𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍, 𝕶𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖊𝖆𝖙 > >

You think you saw something under the window.

It's something - you're sure.

But it's not important enough for you to give it your full attention. Not when you're fighting with Kain right now, it's probably about some nonsense, the two of you have been fighting for so long that you don't even remember what you're fighting about and Kain is getting more and more aggressive.

"I can't believe we're fighting about this, Kain! Your mother must have thrown the baby away and created the placenta instead, because there's no way you only understand what suits you!" you say louder, running your hands over your face in an irritated way.

Today was supposed to be the perfect date. It was your and Kain's anniversary and after missing the date 4 times, he finally agreed to go today. Of course, you got ready in a happy and relieved way, who knows if it was a sign of his change? You did a great job with your makeup, your hair looked like a celebrity blowout but the most beautiful thing is your beautiful black dress. This one accentuates each of your curves in an attractive and elegant way, with shiny details in some part and The high heels, a black sitelleto perfectly match the occasion, the black and transparent tights give a stylish air to the look. A wine-colored velvet bow is in your hair, giving an air of significant femininity.

And given the special occasion, you are finally wearing a beautiful set of accessories that you ordered online! You waited so long to receive it and today you will wear it for the first time! The necklace is a beautiful ruby ​​choker with encrusted diamonds, combined exclusively with the button earrings of the same style.

Now, you can't leave the house without your black bag, huh? You chose this model yourself, padded and medium-sized, perfect for work and to use when going out. The black bag is a universal symbol of female independence, and of distrust of men. After all, a good partner should pay the bill and leave the girl at ease, right? That's what people are saying on the internet and Kain is your partner but… he's a delicate case.

You think twice before putting your wallet with cards and money in it, Kain paid the last few times but what if….... no. Don't think about it. He'll change. He promised.

Before leaving you listen to the voice in your head and put your wallet, lip gloss and documents in it.

Just in case.

And oh boy, thank God you listened.

*knock knock*

You hear him knock on your door, and as you walk down the halls, you check yourself in the mirror from head to toe and smile dreamily, happily, lightly, mentally praising yourself.

You look really beautiful today, YN

He appears at your door, smoking a cigarette while talking on his cell phone. He didn't give you a kiss. Just a look to confirm that you were in front of him and he threw the helmet in your hands, unceremoniously returning to the motorcycle.

The bike was beautiful, but dirty and Kain already smelled of cigarettes, his old jacket was stained with alcohol he had been drinking, you surreptitiously held your breath so as not to breathe in that terrible odor. Carefully, you slowly climbed on it so as not to get your dress dirty and abruptly, he started driving to what was supposed to be the romantic dinner he had promised at her favorite restaurant. Imagine the disappointment when a route was changed to a darker part of the city, but it was a small diner, a hot dog cart with a few tables around it. A slight embarrassment of being overdressed rose on your face, but you disguised it with a crooked smile as you cleaned the chair dirty with ketchup from the last person who had used the table.

“Heya, YN, you look pretty good.” he complimented you, sitting in the chair opposite yours.

“Thanks, I–”

“You don’t mind if I call a few more friends, do you? They’re nearby and I invited them to come eat with us.”

He interrupts you and confirms the call before you can say anything.

YN doesn't want to be immature, petty, or a boring little princess who doesn't want to have fun like he already said, so you just nod and mentally prepare yourself for the vision that arrives.

In less than 10 minutes, at least 6 more boys arrive… drugged… drunk… dirty with dirt and stained with oil. The group of brutes TAKES MORE CHAIRS AND TABLES around so they can all be together, the smell of sour and loud voices, words tangled with each other and insults are exchanged as a form of greeting.

Even the cook at the stall looks at this group of troublemakers with disdain, and when he realizes that you are there in the middle, he turns his head, confused, as if asking what you are doing there. And to be honest, at that moment you don't know either. The waiter quickly brings the menu to your table, which is already starting to attract the attention of other people.

"Good evening, what would you like?" the waiter says in a harsh tone, this group had caused problems before.

"Francis, old man, I'm surprised you're still here!" Kain exclaims with disdain. Last week, they unfairly involved the waiter in one of their scams, causing him to almost be fired.

"Thanks to my boss, I am, if it were up to you I would be out on the street like you good-for-nothings." he huffs irritably, grabbing his notebook

The group just laughs, as if nothing mattered, and orders drinks and hot dogs. Kain doesn't remember you, it's the waiter who stops by your side and asks in a softer voice.

"Would you like to order something now?"

"A juice with the number 2, please." You asked for the quickest thing to get out of there as quickly as possible, preferably something already prepared that they only had to heat up and you could leave.

"Of course, yours will be ready in a minute." The waiter quickly takes your order and leaves before the disgusting horde can get him in trouble again.

"Omg, YN, what a surprise you're here!" one of them exclaims, isn't that the one who hit his own mother?

"She wanted to go out today so I thought I could bring her with us." Kain doesn't let you answer, distorting the truth while laughing disgustingly with his friend next to him, the one who got out of prison last week.

Ouch.

You feel so small and dirty now, like a stunned cockroach on the floor, like a puppy that its owner conveniently takes for a walk. You don't know how, but somehow, some girls approach your table, flirting with the boys and with Kain himself. You ignore the feeling of neglect, disgust, and revolt and smile tightly, a thin line made entirely to disguise the tremendous discomfort you feel.

Sweet you, struggling to stay calm and hide your true feelings, try desperately to control your body and facial expression. Your hands remain static, despite being elegantly in your lap, and your breathing is controlled so as not to appear agitated, occasionally distracting yourself on your cell phone while you wait.

As you observe the scene in front of you, your face remains impassive, without any trace of apparent emotion. Inside, however, the storm of feelings continues to stir uncontrollably.

You want so much to leave there and cry, how could you have been so naive to believe that he would change? That today would be a special day? As if the universe was reaching out to you, the waiter soon delivered your orders, gently placing his hand on your shoulder and speaking softly in your ear.

“If you need anything else, we are at your disposal, miss”, the staff was empathetic to your situation, your discomfort visible from miles away, you were there like a pearl among swine, a little princess in a horde of stinking goblins.

Kain interpreted it as if the waiter was flirting with you, in front of him, in front of his friends and the fight went on and on, he made advances on the waiter, the boys stole some things, security was called… and finally… being the only one with documents when security arrived, you paid the bill for the boys’ losses and were forced to pay the bill for the snack as well, you angrily took your wallet out of your black bag. At that moment, you dropped your politeness and your princess pose and fought with Kain in front of everyone, calling a nearby motorcycle taxi to take you home.

You don't want to see Kain's face now.

You might break up today.

That's it.

That's it.

You're fed up.

You furiously take the bow out of your hair and throw it somewhere in the house as soon as you get home, your expensive high heels being thrown to some corner of the couch while you control your breathing, tears of frustration threatening to roll down your face but for all the self-respect you have left, you won't cry for him today. Your boyfriend, Kain, arrives a few minutes later, banging on the door incessantly as if he wanted to break it down.

And on the one hand, you were already pissed at him, but on the other… if he came all the way here… it means he cares, right? You open the door with expectation, only for them to be destroyed once again.

"Are you stupid or what?" he shouts, entering the house with all his steps stomping loudly in his muddy sneakers as if he were the owner of the house, and takes a big swig from his cheap beer can.

"What…?" You feel confused, is this son of a bitch blaming you?

“I know.”

He throws the beer can on the floor when it's finished and marches towards you with arguments and points, blaming you for hitting on the waiter, for embarrassing him in front of his friends, for calling the security guard and for a million other facts that he created in his head.

It's never Kain's fault. It's the waiter's fault, the friend's fault, the police officer's fault, YOUR fault, but never his.

It seems like a joke.

A cruel joke in a circus that you didn't pay to enter.

But you paid, YN, you entered the circus and kissed the clown, now who's being made fun of?

"Kain, that's not how it happened." You confront him firmly on your position.

"Oh no? And that other time when you—”

And whenever he’s losing an argument, he brings up memories from the past to justify the nonsense of the present, like how he loves you so much that he picked you up from the hospital, how your father cheated on your mother, how his father is working a lot, that he helped you move….. it has nothing to do with today’s event, with today’s argument, but he wants to win this argument no matter what.

The argument doesn’t make sense, but it escalates quickly, it’s like airing dirty laundry, and you decide that if you’re going to throw shit in the fan, you’re going to throw it. Tonight’s already terrible, let’s end it on a high note.

The best cure for a crazy person is someone crazier than him. My mother used to say that…. let’s see for real?

Fuck this thing.

“Kain, do you practice at home to talk so much shit, or is everything that comes out of your mouth improvised?” you gesture sarcastically, the words cutting more than a knife, like an acid that bubbles with the amount of anger inside you.

Snowball, the female cat you adopted a few weeks ago silently approaches the room where you are, crawling elegantly and meowing in retaliation to your boyfriend. The more upset your boyfriend gets, the more annoyed Snowball seems.

The cat, despite being a cute kitten, didn't win Kain's favor. He complains about the white fur getting on his clothes, about all the unnecessary expenses you're spending on a stinky kitten, and mainly, how now that this cat has arrived, you only have attention for her. Which is obviously a lie, he just wants something to fight about and blame you for. The kitten is affectionate with you, always being close and purring in your hands, maybe that's why she's a little… protective of you? Sweet YN, so kind to her. Snowball is at the door now, her tail slowly wagging from side to side in a clear sign of agitation, her meows becoming louder as if she wanted to defend you.

The couple's shouting, with the TV playing loudly in the background, and the incessant meowing of a cat is chaos, an irritation that grows more and more. At some point, Kain gets really angry and approaches YN aggressively, stomping his feet hard and raising his hands. It is exactly at this moment that Snowball uses her incredible feline speed and scratches his feet, the kitten's soft white fur standing up while her pupils turn into two little holes.

There is something under your window, and the thing wipes its bloody mouth and does its best to stay still, observing the situation.

And most importantly… the thing sees you.

"See? Even a cat understands that you're overstepping your bounds! Enough, Kain, there's no way you're that upset!" You huff loudly as you walk away from the man, you don't know what's worse, the yelling or the teasing of the kitten.

Kain turns around, now focusing his attention on Bola de Neve. He scoffs at the kitten and scowls at you.

"Oh, shut that thing up. If you can't keep it quiet, you shouldn't have gotten it. You know cats annoy the hell outta me."

Oh, this is the final straw for you. Not only did he ruin a perfect date, but now he wants to rule your house as if it were his? Oh no. All the women inside you roar in unison, ordering in your heart that you should not stay silent and lower your head.

"Oh? Excuse me? This is MY HOUSE! If you're bothered, go to YOUR HOUSE! Because in mine, MY kitten can even sing if she wants to," you proclaim louder than him, disgusted with the situation while gesturing to the house.

Kain turns to you, his face red and his expression darkening even more.

"I'm your boyfriend, I have every right to be here!" he snaps back, getting even closer to you. Snowball doesn't like this at all, approaching you and climbing onto the nearest couch, meowing and hissing again louder than before.

You swallow your fear and apprehension and head towards the door, crossing the room while maintaining eye contact with the man. "You have the fucking right to be here, the door is open for you to go vomit and talk your nonsense outside. In my house, I'm the boss, big head."

Kain turns to yell at the cat again, annoyed and frustrated, he imitates the meow more loudly and in a childish way. He's clearly losing his temper.

"Will you shut that thing up! It's making my damn head hurt, I'll throw it outside myself if I have to! What an annoying noise! ​​I'm leaving if you keep this up!"

Oh, does the asshole want a formal invitation?

"Oh, do you want me to do the honors?" In a sarcastic tone you answered him, taking Snowball in your arms and protecting her as if she were your own kitten, placing her in her cat tower, a safe haven for now. There's a high chance that Kain will get really angry and go after the cat, but even so you hold the cat tighter against your chest and stomp on the floor.

Big man, head of a childish boy.

Enough of bowing my head to him hoping that everything will be better the next day.

Kain glares at you, furious and frustrated. He's not expecting you to actually kick him out, especially considering his current state, the idiot was already drinking before your date, the smell of cheap alcohol on him is unbearable.

"Are you serious right now?! You'd really kick me out over a cat?!" he yells, standing up and walking towards you, getting in your face.

"You're the one who's bothered by the cat, and you know the saying: those who are bothered should leave!" You cross your arms and continue even more determined "Either you leave and save the rest of your dignity or you spend the night here in silence."

Kain looks like a mad man with rage now, are you choosing the cat and not him? Do you dare to turn against him? Your boyfriend?

He approaches you again with strong and threatening steps, crossing the room again until he's close to you, next to a beautiful decorated bookcase. As a reflex of revolt, you tie your hair in a bun and approach him with the same intensity. A sign that the fight is far from over.

“You’re being too-!”

“Listen here, you-!” you gesture with your hands as you speak

The creature thinks that you look terribly big now, taking up more and more space as if, like any animal, you were showing your dominance in the territory. With increasingly larger and more offensive gestures, your voice increasingly loud and cold, arguments mixing with emotions, the situation is escalating very quickly. And the most interesting thing….

There is not a single drop of fear in you.

Creatures of his kind can feed on people’s fear and anguish too, but he doesn’t smell that in you… he smells that in your scoundrel boyfriend, who tries to disguise his weak points when he raises a threatening hand at you, shouting in a deep voice that imposes dominance.

“Shut your mouth!”

You glare at him defiantly and grab the first thing closest to you: a sharp sculpture, a decorative gift from your mother that you've never found useful, well, until now.

"Shut you up!" You hold the sculpture at the same height as his raised hand, raising your voice so it echoes through the house.

He looks at you, his face red with anger and his breathing fast. Kain never thought you'd threaten him back, defend yourself, but knowing you, he knows that the likelihood of you attacking him is as high as him attacking you now. Given this, and his weak state, Kain curses in a low tone and slowly lowers his hands.

You take a deep breath and pray that your own voice doesn't shake and slowly lower the sharp sculpture, but holding it tightly in your hands in case he changes his mind.

"Respect me. And if you really have feelings for me, you'll get out of my house right now and leave me alone!" You growl in an authoritative tone, leaving no room for suggestion as you slowly walk towards him, circling him like a predator while pointing the sculpture directly at him.

Your eyes are like flames of fire, with hatred and anger escaping from them as you focus exclusively on the man in front of you.

Today was perhaps the moment of greatest mental clarity of your life, and Kain hates every minute of his girlfriend's insubordination, as if he had seen the size of the iceberg for the first time, and not the small cubes or ice shavings that subtly melted with the heat of kisses or weak threats.

This little thing thinks she can threaten me? Shout back?

"YN, you're overreacting!! You're going to regret this!" The cornered man slowly makes his way to the door, frustrated and with a bruised ego. Kain keeps his eyes wide as he watches your domineering figure, but out of pride he still wants to have the last word to tell his friends.

"Enough!" You hold up a hand signaling him to shut up, and he does so immediately. "Don't make me repeat myself. Get out. Now!" You open the door abruptly, knocking over a portrait that was behind it as you breathe heavily through your nostrils, like a bull preparing for combat.

Kain glares at you, his anger fading slightly as he realizes he's not gonna win this one. He knows you're being serious, and doesn't have a choice. He sighs loudly and turns around to grab his stuff.

"Fine then! I'm leaving! But don't come begging for me to come back when you decide to ditch the damn cat…" He grabs his things and still grumbling curses. He gets to the front door and looks back at you one last time. He's still grumpy and annoyed, but defeated.

"I'll call you when I get home."

“Sure.” You say with a forced smile, the words coming out between clenched teeth.

The thing remembers that most species show their teeth as a sign of aggression, and it wonders if one more step in the wrong direction and you would open your jaw and furiously bite your boyfriend’s throat until it bled?

No.

When Kaim approaches, you allow him to kiss you on the mouth, albeit angrily, and say goodbye. He gets on the motorcycle and then exits the house, without looking back while you stand at the door, waiting for him to leave. Acting silently as a sentinel of your own house, your straight posture and raised chin indicate that you remain firm in your position. The sound of a motorcycle starts up and then fades away in the distance. It's finally quiet again.

The creature thinks humans are complicated.

If a miserable dog dared to even attack its owner, the owner would hand it over to a kennel or the streets, returning the hatred a thousand times over.

But if a human attacks another….

A human will be a thousand times more merciful with their own kind, they will apologize and make amends for the aggression, they will blame the drink, the drugs, the stressful day but they will never blame the other, they will never admit their own mistake.

Through a hidden bush the creature sees you enter the house and close the door and before you can walk with strong steps to the other side of the house… Snowball, the kitten, meows sweetly at you. It is as if the big and strong independent woman melts at the sight of a worried kitten, disarming herself of the armor she used in the argument earlier. You pick her up in your arms and take her to the sofa in the living room, where you put on a romantic movie to watch, something that internally you wished to live, something to distract from this moment.

Snowball purrs against your chest, raising her head subtly to lick the tears that roll down YN's face, staining the makeup she had done so excellently in doing. Stubborn, frustrated, angry, tears roll down her face insistently while YN holds herself back from crying, but poor thing, her lip trembles slightly as the kitten does what she can to bring some comfort to her owner.

*crash*

At that moment a loud noise is heard, the dramatic scene is interrupted by the trash can falling and YN remembers that she had actually heard something. YN quickly gets up and goes to check what it could be. Some raccoons were rummaging through the house's trash can looking for food, accidentally causing the can to fall on the creature's tail, scaring and hurting it, quickly pulling its tail off and attacking its attackers.

What YN sees, however, is a large black dog going after the raccoons that were rummaging through her trash can. Maybe out of hunger, maybe for something else, but before YN can grab a broom and chase the raccoons away, the large dog does so, and then their eyes meet.

YN looks at the dog, he is a great mass of black fur with long legs and sharp teeth. He is bigger than any dog ​​she has ever seen, his bark is too loud, his fur makes it easy for him to stay in the shadows but his eyes…..two crimson balls reflecting the light from the window in a bright red. The poor thing immediately shut up when he noticed YIN's presence, and sweet YN, thought he was fighting over food with the raccoons.

YN saw him.

Even after such a stormy night, she gently closes the window as if nothing had happened and goes to the kitchen, calling Snowball to come with her.

For a dog that size, he must eat a lot……

YN grabs some leftovers from her lunch, along with some dog food that she had saved for when she would go for a walk in the park and feed some stray dogs, she grabs some eggs, and a few other things that might please the canine palate and puts them in a bowl, filling a small bowl with water to give to the unknown beast as well.

The girl turns on the light in front of the house, and holds her breath in case the dog gets aggressive, keeping the door closed and Snowball inside the house.

“Hey, I can see you,” she says in a sweet tone to call the big dog from hiding in the bushes. She wasn't supposed to see him.Why can she see him?

“Come here boy, I have something for you.” She makes a sound to call the canine, placing the portions of food and water near the window and the bush.

“Come here boy,” she calls again.

The dogs she feeds at the park usually wag their tails when they see YN approaching, let her run her hand through their fur and come quickly when they are called.

But not this one.

The creature wasn't expecting this tonight, having quickly put on his dog skin before leaving, but it's undeniable: He's hungry. And you're offering him a feast. It would be stupid to refuse. So, slowly, he starts to emerge from the bush, his head and snout coming out first and his body reluctantly following. He's incredibly suspicious of YN, not taking his eyes off the human for a minute, which makes her back away too, in her head, giving the creature space to feel comfortable.

“Very well, now I’m going, okay?” Before she can turn around, the dog changes course and begins to walk slowly towards YN, ears and tail pricked, his gaze fixed on the human.

In the blink of an eye he's in front of her, in an alert position. YN has been in this situation before, so like any other dog, she gently extends her hand so he can sniff and get to know her.

"Oh...hello boy."

The skinwalker sniffs YN's hand, her scent enveloping his senses and immediately making him relax, it was a unique scent, he had never felt this sensation before and hesitantly he licks the back of YN's hand…

Mmm… delicious.

YN takes it as a sign that he is friendly and runs her hand over his head, petting him and showing him where the food is.

"Very good buddy, there's your food, see. See you later."

The creature's fur is dry and hard, like that of a stuffed animal and YN doesn't look into the animal's eyes, not wanting to cause more problems for the stranger. Oh, if she had looked into its eyes she would know that what she had touched was not just any animal, she should never have fed it, she should never have given it a break.

After all,

If you feed a dog, it will come back.

And it wasn't just any dog.

The following days are marked by a strange sensation in YN, a feeling of alertness and unease. Every time she leaves the house for work, she feels a strong sense that something is wrong, and there really is something very wrong around her. A shadow. The shadow lingers, faint and cold, a veil across the surface, untold. Whispers soft, a chilling breeze, Upon the wall, an enigma it weaves.

At dawn, the girl finds peace, a calm knowing that the great Sun would bring her a slight feeling of security and warmth and finally, the feeling of seeing things the way they are. The danger is returning alone at night, YN. What lies beneath, concealed by the veil, A wind that blows but will never fail. A heartbeat, a gentle sigh, A secret that will never die.

She quickens her pace, taking longer and faster steps as she looks anxiously around corners, praying hard that the Sun will be merciful enough to allow her to get home in time to lock all the doors and windows and finally relax, ignoring the persistent shadows she sees in the corner of her eye and the sound of howls in the middle of the night. But unfortunately, today is one of the days when the Sun has been generous with the Moon, allowing it to shine earlier than it did for all of humanity, but the poor human is very anxious, hearing things and seeing things that according to her are just products of her imagination. It's well known, the shadow does reside, but only revealed when looking inside. A ghost that hides and persists. A mystery that the soul can't resist.

After days of feeling followed and watched, YN finally accepts the ride her boss offers her, making her arrive home early and and decided to extend a helping hand to the young woman in the city that YN didn't know. The experienced woman had noticed that YN was in a constant state of anxiety to return home and that something was not right.

Home is everyone's safe place, why wouldn't YN want to go back?

“Hey Snowball, did you miss me?” YN pets the cat as soon as she arrives home, the kitten purring as she leans in with her affections.

“Did you catch any mice today?” The girl does not expect answers from a cat, and quickly checks the house for any body or evidence.

It can't be just ONE mouse.

A few days ago, YN saw some mice in the house. There had never been any mice there before, but the girl assumes that things like this happen in the new house. The mice are fast, too fast for YN to hit them with the broom and too fast for Snowball to catch them. They are like shadows, being recognized only by the rotten smell and the noise they make when they move from one place to another, a heavy noise for something so small. But strangely, they never go after food. YN checks the food, the bathroom, the fridge, the yard every day… but there is no proof that they have been there.

But it is better to have rats than Kain, isn't it? It was Kain's habit to disappear for a while and then appear as if nothing had happened, never remorseful, never guilty. He wasn't always this infinite well of idiocy, he was kind and loving in the beginning but as the relationship progressed things went downhill. Like a tick that starts innocently grabbing an animal's fur, and it doesn't hurt at first, but as time goes by the tick digs its claws and teeth into the host's skin, sucking the soul and blood, weakening the host and leaving the host at its mercy.

As much as the tick hurts, it will be even more painful to remove, like a stubborn person who would rather keep the knife embedded in the wound than remove it and risk losing blood. The boy didn't say much these days, just a few lame excuses while YN cut the conversation short and ignored him. It's better this way. She is still writing the script for how she will end the relationship. Even though he is a stupid asshole, what guarantees that he won't come and demand satisfaction later? That he will send one of his idiot friends to take care of you?

Hmm… better memorize the police number here… get the neighbor's number… better be prepared in case something happens…

“…hey.”

A voice calls her from the other side of the house, in the backyard.

But YN is so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't recognize the tone of the voice, lost in the loud music from her headphones. But she still goes to the backyard to open the door, not realizing that Snowball's fur is bristling and scared, but when she opens the door she finds only…

“Oh, hey boy. Its you!” You find the black dog from a few days ago sitting elegantly on the grass, attentively awaiting your presence.

“You're early today, huh?” The sun is still setting today, illuminating some children in orange tones while they are still playing outside.

Maybe one of them called out to a friend and you heard, thinking you were being called.

“I’ll get your food and I’ll be right back, okay?”

The big dark ball has been fed every now and then in the last few days, always after the young woman gets home from work. The dog seemed to guess and emerge from the shadows when he noticed YN’s presence in the house. YN and her huge heart already set aside something for him, buying more food and treats for him at the market. She has enough to feed him and bring him water, but not enough to open the door and adopt him. It’s as if Yn had wisely created a wall between the two of them, establishing a limit that she felt was necessary.

In the kitchen, the music is still playing loudly in her ears, a lively rhythm to chase away bad thoughts while the young woman prepares an old bowl for the dog’s dinner and another for his water. She quickly pauses the wireless headphones, poking her finger a few more times when the sound doesn't pause.

At these times, YN likes to be on alert to attend to the dogs, even when feeding other stray dogs, there's something particular about this one that makes her feel… agitated, as if she were playing with the flames of a candle and seeing how far it really gets burned. Or in this case, bitten.

“Hey buddy, here's dinner.” Yn announces the entrance while the dog is sitting exactly in the same place, with a confused look but accustomed to this routine of the last few days the girl puts the bowls under the window in a clean area.

“Come. You can eat now.” and so he does, walking over to the place and eating from the bowl, his big tail wagging slightly as he savors each bite, his tense muscles relaxing as the feast is served.

He must have been domesticated and when he got too big they pushed him out onto the street, because how is he so… obedient?

This is usually where the story ends.

She feeds him and goes back home.

But this time, the creature notices when YN is about to walk away and growls slightly, making her become confused and stop.

What? What did I do?

The black dog approaches and imitates the behavior he has seen other dogs doing, wagging his tail while staring at YN with pleading eyes and lowered ears, relaxing some muscles in his face so that he appears more friendly.

“Oh, you want some affection, is that it?” YN hesitantly brings her hand gently to the dog’s head, preparing to immediately pull it away in case the canine decides to bite at the last minute.

But the bite never comes.

He would never in his right mind hurt you.

He closes his eyes as he welcomes the touch, his hand noticing how much softer and longer his black fur is now, his tail wagging much faster now showing how good he is feeling, sweeping some autumn leaves away as YN pets him more willingly and freely, more comfortable with the idea that he won't bite her hand.

"So you're not aggressive, huh? Do you like it?" she continues to caress the creature tenderly, two hands to stroke his fur all over as he lets out small grunts of joy.

He feels more playful now, his tail wagging as he sinks deeper and deeper into the girl's touch, closing his eyes contentedly. But when he opens his eyes to observe her more closely, to delight in her beautiful and majestic face, to take the chance to study a face so beautiful that it would make the most miserable of men a king, and the richest of men a mere pauper in search of attention, imagine his surprise when he sees that the girl was also studying him. YN takes the chance to see the vulnerable canine and looks for wounds and scars, or indicators of what kind of dog it is, some collar or ship that identifies it, but is surprised by what she finds: beautiful blue eyes.

What beautiful blue eyes, did they turn red because of the light at night? This happens with the reflection sometimes, I saw photos about it.

But Yn avoids looking directly into his eyes for too long, she feels something strange… they look with such precision and intelligence that YN has never seen a dog have, eyes almost human, almost emotional, almost… something. Almost as if she asked him something, he would answer.

But that's not important now, not when he precisely closes his eyes again as he moves closer to her body, wanting more of the warmth and affection that only the girl can give him.

It's a beautiful and tender moment, which makes YN forget the enigmatic problems that are on the other side of the door. But she is remembered when the sun sets completely, leaving her alone in the darkness. Little by little, in affectionate but anxious acts, she moves away from the dog.

"I have to go now, go eat, boy. Good night." In a sweet voice, she reluctantly says goodbye to her canine friend, it was good that he showed this more affectionate side of him.

"Boy" because he is not something dear to her yet.

"Boy" because to YN he was just a street dog.

"Boy" because he is not allowed to enter the house.

Understanding that she wanted to enter the house, he slowly moves away, allowing the girl freedom to walk to the door while he remains standing in the same place. The darkness of the night quickly becomes present and more terrifying because when she left the sun was shining outside, but now in the house and in the yard, there are no lights on. As she is about to reach for the doorknob, she hears something that makes her freeze.

“…thank you.”

It was a voice so impossibly clear and deep that it could not have been from her headphones, since they were turned off. It was a voice that spoke inside her head, making each letter reverberate with intensity in every nerve and muscle. A spectral and disturbing voice. Her heart immediately froze and a deep fear took hold of her, words of gratitude that were supposed to make her feel good, now it was as if something primordial had awakened. From the corner of her eye, she slowly notices that the dog is in the same place, looking at her with his head tilted, almost cute, if it weren't for his eyes shining with a light that shouldn't be there.

YN comes out of her trance dizzily and quickly and enters the house, closing and locking the door safely while turning on the doors of the house, all of them while recovering the strength in her legs and breathing unevenly.

Perhaps, if she had looked back one more time, she would have seen the creature moving away and merging with the shadows of the yard in a surreal way, like a shadow merging with the darkness of the night.

Oh, what a terrifying soul to have around….

Oh, what a tormented and dangerous creature….

No one taught him to be this creature, he has never seen another of his kind either, but perhaps he has not always been this way. He does not remember exactly what he was, what he once was in existence. He does have a conscience, portraits of memories and abstract concepts, but for the most part he is "an almost animal thing".

He was once human, an original form that he has not used for decades and perhaps he has even forgotten what he once was, after so many masks and disguises it is difficult to know what is true, merging with more animalistic perceptions over time.

Repeating a primitive cycle, eating, sleeping and hunting when he is hungry, exchanging the rotting skin for another.

But for the first time, he did not want to be a "thing", he wanted to be "someone".

Because he is "someone" who can be by her side.

He envied humans in a way, for being able to gather around a campfire and have a normal life. Every animal returns to its den at dusk, or leaves it to hunt, but this creature has no place to call a "den" or "home" as humans call it. He hides in caves or any available corner to spend the night, avoiding sunlight so that people do not see the flaws in his disguise.

For the first time in the creature's entire life, he felt that the path from his "den" led to you.

You are his home.

And if he could be a dog at your feet, this would be it. You yourself could choose a collar and chain especially for him.

Chain him up.

Put a collar with his name on it, identify him as something of yours.

Put your name and number on the collar, so that everyone knows he belongs to you.

It's already decided. It's you he wants. No one else.

Now he understands the story of Kain and Abel, he too would kill to receive such a divine blessing.

As he crawls through the darkness he thinks of strategic plans to get into your house. Maybe he has to get rid of that white cat, he wouldn't share your precious attention with him. Maybe he has to create more rats and kill them in front of you, performing a play in which he comes out as the hero and you are so grateful that you let him into the house. Or maybe…

Maybe he has to get rid of your disgusting scoundrel of a boyfriend, steal his skin and throw him into the darkness. Because who else would YN forgive for acting strange? The creature doesn't know how to be a functional human… he can still make some mistakes while living with you, learn from other humans and from movies, who knows?

A creature of his kind needs to kill to steal a skin, eat to take the place of another. A macabre laugh echoes from the dog's mouth, malicious satisfaction as he makes the plan in his head, steps idealized in his evil mind.

In a single night, he will visit the scoundrel Kain and a powerful shaman, the night is young and his plans are ambitious, a lot to plan and plan. Oh, how good it is to have the malicious mind of humans, capable of planning things as simple as a hunt or something as grand as a coup.

Now tell me, sweet YN, did you lock your bedroom door?

Are you sure?

So what is that behind you?

Tags: @buniwtch @spookynotkid @aminekun009 @twinklingbeautifulstars @heizouislife @cheesecakeyuri @hewhehe @sumeyyeecrin

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

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[sleepyjuice]

toxic!rafe will blow your phone up the second you post something on instagram that he’s ‘iffy’ about.

you posted a photo dump which consisted of some random photos of the beach, some of your friends, one of you and rafe of course, but the one that had rafe seeing red was the last slide, which was you in a bikini. he texted you several times at first, and while you were literally typing your response, he called you. your fingers were typing so fast to respond to him that you accidentally declined the call, and he did not like that. you immediately went to call him back, but another text from rafe rolled in, saying ‘fuck you don’t talk to me we’re done’ you sighed loudly, knowing damn well he was talking out of his ass right now, so you sat back and waited for the inevitable next string of texts to roll in. which they did, only seconds later.

rafe <3: do you get off on making me mad or something

rafe <3: like i’m racking my brain trying to understand why you do the things you do and that’s all i can come up with

rafe <3: and i see at least 4 guys have already liked your post like that’s crazy to me?? thought i told you to block all the guys that followed you?? of course you didn’t

rafe <3: also who even took that pic of you??? bc i know damn well it wasn’t me so who the fuck you posing for with your fucking ass and tits out? WHAT THE FUCK

rafe <3: DO NOT PUT YOUR SHIT ON DO NOT DISTURB answer me rn.

rafe <3: nah it’s cool actually i’m gonna go hit up my other gfs so you have a good night.

you rolled your eyes at that last text, deciding to fully turn your phone off. you knew he would likely try to text or call you again very soon but you didn’t want to deal with it right now. this wasn’t your first rodeo, you knew nothing you could say to him right now would calm him down, so letting him freak out on his own was the best method to his madness.

three hours had passed since you turned your phone off. you had caught up on some reading and turned on your current favorite show, but found yourself interrupted by a knock at your front door. you expected it to be rafe, but instead it was a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a gift bag. you glanced around to see if rafe was lurking around, but saw nothing. when he freaked out over text and was able to reread his actions, he usually waited a bit longer to show his face as opposed to a verbal argument.

you brought the flowers inside and set them on the counter before grabbing the card attached to the side of the bouquet.

sorry we argued. you are so beautiful and i love you so much. got you a little gift and sent you some money for food and i set your appointment with your nail girl for tomorrow at 10. love you forever baby -rafe

you couldn’t help but smile just a little. the flowers were beautiful and the note was pretty sweet, so you chose to ignore the part where he said ‘we argued.’ you didn’t get a word in, but you let it slide. especially after you opened the gift bag to see the new dior bag you had been wanting.

you hurried to turn on your phone, immediately seeing a $500 apple payment from rafe as well as a new text from a few minutes ago.

rafe <3: hope you like the flowers and bag baby. love you! :)

you: i love them. thanks rafe, love you too

rafe <3: good to hear. lmk what you end up getting for dinner and i’ll pick you up tomorrow to take you to your nail apt. can’t wait to see you baby

you would order yourself dinner that was obviously way less than $500, but you would send rafe a picture and thank him again. you’d facetime him before bed and conversation flowed like nothing had even happened just hours before. he’d ask you what color nails you were getting, tell you funny stories about the old men at the country club and excitedly plan what you two were going to do the next day. the cycle seemed like it would never end, but you often forgot about the bad when he was talking so sweetly to you and all you could think about was how excited you were to see him tomorrow.

[nightingale-prompts]

Comforting Your Batboy

First | Previous | Next

Danny slept next to Dick for a few days after what happened. He no longer felt secure about his place here. No matter where you go you take yourself with you and Danny is the problem here yet again.

Danny didn't understand affection, at least not the kind that a parent gave. The moment Danny told Dick that his parents were scientists Richard understood. Gotham had seen dozens of scientists who pushed the boundaries of morality and there was no shortage of children used to fulfill their ambitions.

Danny still missed his parents. Regardless of how things ended, he had lived his entire life with a family unit that on paper meant life was stable. He had somewhere to go and people who at least acknowledged him as family. Parents that took care of him at least out of obligation.

This story sounded familiar. Like Jason who never stopped loving his mom despite everything or Tim who accepted his neglect as what it was. They didn't know what it was like to have parents that loved them like they should. Dick was lucky to have the parent he had.

Danny remembered quiet dinners as his parents rushed to finish the food that Jazz made or them going on long tirades about their research. For 12 years they devotedly worked on that portal. Every chance they got they'd run off to the basement. Because it was their life's work, the only thing that mattered.

When it was unveiled, Jazz only scoffed. She hated the portal. Dad looked to Danny for praise and Danny didn't know what to say.

"Isn't it just the greatest thing you've ever seen?" Dad put his hand around Danny's shoulder.

"Well...its definitely a thing." Danny laughed awkwardly.

Danny had hoped that when the portal finished it would mean he'd spend time with his parents. Maybe they'd give him more than a passing glance when he brought them his report card. He could share with them his dreams and plans to be an astronaut. Show them the stars and all his research. To prove to them that he was a scientist too.

But that didn't happen. None of that would ever happen.

Jazz warned him not to hope for too much.

"People don't change Danny." She said simply.

Danny still tried. He still hoped. That hope made him try.

That hope killed him.

Danny never told Dick the specifics, about the accident. Dick never pried, but he knew something wasn't right.

Danny would cry in his sleep some nights. Dreams of a life that was far away now. Dick couldn't do much, all he could do was hold Danny's hand and wait for the nightmare to pass in hopes that Danny would forget his dream when he opened his eyes.

Danny's body was scarred. Something he used his powers to cover but they were still there and appeared when the stress got too much. Dick only saw a small part of them.

Dick got a full view once of Danny's back once when Dick left him a change of clothes. Lichtenberg scars like feathered ferns ripped through Danny's left arm and back. Danny hated it when people saw his scars and the marks disappeared the moment he realized he was being watched.

Dick didn't mention it. Not even the faint green glow the marks gave off.

"Why does Batman hate me?" Danny asked peeking out from under his blanket. He was still shrunk down

Dick bundled the toddler up in the blanket.

"He doesn't hate you. He just...he doesn't like things he doesn't understand." Dick tried to not make that sound awful.

"He doesn't understand me." Danny sighed.

"And he doesn't have to. He won't do anything to you. Not with me around. I promise. I know you've been hurt before and you must have felt alone but you got me." Dick ruffled his little fuzzball's hair.

(Ignore small errors. Have bat picture.)

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 3: Bubble Tea

“Hey.” Kyle murmurs, hand lightly grazing over your shoulders to rest on the back of your neck. His palm feels warm on your skin and you unconsciously lean back into it.

“Hm?” You look up from where you were hunched over your phone - definitely not shopping for a new purse on company time.

“Gonna go pick up lunch f’the shop. Want t’ come with? I don’t think I can carry it all myself.” He asks. His eyes are always so soft when he looks at you. Relaxed and bright with that constant slight quirk in the corners of his lips.

“Oh! Yeah, sounds good.” You grin, standing quickly and grabbing your wallet out of your purse to shove into your back pocket. Might as well get something for yourself if you’re going out. “Where are we heading?”

“That poke place a couple blocks up.” Kyle nods in the intended direction.

You follow him out of the shop. The weather has begun to warm more. Still cool enough for long sleeves but the sun feels nice on your face as you trot up the street, speed walking to keep up with Kyle and his accursed long legs.

“Switch with me.” Kyle murmurs, hand flattening on your lower back as he steps to the road side of the sidewalk.

You snort, cheeks warming when his hand remains a few beats longer than necessary. “How chivalrous.”

He chuckles. “My grandad always said t’never let a lady walk by the street. Guess it stuck with me.”

As much as you want to tease him about playing into gender roles, you can’t lie and say you don’t like it. That it doesn’t make your heart patter and your stomach flutter. Growing up fat, you never really got the chance to be treated delicately. Femininely. Always expected to be tougher, louder, more masculine. It feels good. Healing, in a way, as stupid as it is.

God, your inner monologue is embarrassing.

The shop is smaller than you expected. Tucked away like many buildings in this downtown with a short, blue awning shading the teal colored door. It’s surprisingly crowded too, people packed in like sardines and filing in and out quickly. The inside is nicely decorated - a few tables off to the side that no one seems to stay at. They more so seem to act as a waiting spot until people get their food and head out. The menu board is shaped like a bright blue, wall-length fish.

“Ladies first.” Kyle grins, opening the door for you. You roll your eyes at him, earning a pinch to your side in return. It’s almost strange how easy things are with him - with all of them. You don’t think you’ve ever been this comfortable around a group of men before. That would probably make you sad if you thought about it for long enough.

Kyle passes you a little clipboard with a stack of papers to customize your poke bowl and a small pen. He begins filling out three for the others, seemingly from memory. You wonder how often they come down here - if it’s their favorite local spot or just convenient. You look over his shoulder, snooping for the others preferences. Apparent Simon likes a lot of spice. Johnny, not so much.

Your eyes widen as you reach the bottom of your menu. “They have boba!”

“You want some?” Kyle grins.

You nod excitedly. Like a kid discovering a new candy. It’s been so long since you got your hands on some bubble tea - if you’d known they had it sooner you would’ve been in here nearly everyday. Then again, maybe it’s good that you didn’t know.

Kyle holds out his hand. You look between it and his face dumbly for a few moments, clutching your order in your hands before putting the pieces together.

“I can get my own!” You insist. “I don’t-“

“Price’s treat, love.” He snags the paper from your hands. “He always pays when we come here.”

“Oh. Okay.” You chew your lip. “I can at least pay for my drink, since it’s extra-“

He just waves you off and marches up to the register. You don’t miss the fact that he pulls out a very shiny credit card. So it’s not Price’s treat. It’s a company treat, eh?

Not that you’re going to complain. Free poke and boba is a dream come true.

Kyle takes your little plastic number, ducking to snag a now freed up table to wait at. They’re tall, causing you to scramble unceremoniously to get up in the heightened chair. You think you see him laughing out of the corner of your eye, but as soon as you face him he’s just sitting with that usual, casual smile of his.

One of the workers brings over your drinks in a little carrier, saying the food will take a minute longer. You’ve never been patient, greedily grabbing your tea and aggressively stabbing through the cover.

“When do you think John’s gonna let you do your first real tattoo?” You ask, kicking your feet under the tall chair.

Kyle shrugs. “He said soon. I think he’s waitin’ for me to’ be less nervous about it. Plus I need to find someone to do it on-“

“You can do it on me.” You blurt without thinking.

He eyes you. “Really?”

You nod excitedly. “I really like your work - at least what I’ve seen of it. It doesn’t have to be anything big. I’m perfectly happy with one your black-only flashes. That way you can start small.”

“I don’t know…”

“Plus, John says I sit real good. I’m not gonna wriggle and fuck you up.” You chew your straw absentmindedly.

“And what do you get out of this?” Kyle cocks and eyebrow, that slight, constant smirk only growing across his face.

You tap your chin. “Bragging rights when you get famous someday. I got the first official Garrick tattoo ever!”

A surprised laugh forces it’s way out of him, sending him into a coughing fit around the drink he was sipping. “Don’t think I’m gonna be that good, love.”

You reach out, resting your hand over his as a strange wave of seriousness overtakes you. “I don’t think John would take you on as an apprentice if he didn’t think so. Plus, you should hear how much he brags about you. It’s almost insufferable.”

There’s something in his eyes as he gives you another once over. It’s slower this time, dragging up your arm and across your features and back down your other arm, coming to an end where your hand lays over his. Kyle turns his hand upward, brushing his two middle fingers over your pulse point. It steals your breath, strangely enough. He hold your hand so gently, barely cupping it in his.

You wish you could tell what he’s thinking. For all Kyle’s honest and kind nature, he’s hard to read. That perma-smirk hides a lot more than you think you or anyone else realizes.

“Alright. I’ll talk t’John about it.” He murmurs, withdrawing his hand.

“Yah. You better.” You grin, leaning back in your seat just as the food comes out.

[orionremastered]

I’m actually so obsessed with the way you write the boys like🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

why thank you anon this made me smile

and because im nice (school hasn't started yet)

Masterlist

911 Texting the Batboys

Dick Grayson

Exactly one minute after you send him the text, the living room window shatters into a million pieces across the floor. Nightwing calls your name, voice raw with concern, before surveying the state of your apartment.

"Oh," you say quietly by the kitchen, staring at the broken pieces of glass across the floor and then at your boyfriend who stares at you, chest heaving as he looks at you, confused.

"You're not hurt?"

"Well— I— the pan caught fire. I put it out though. I'm not burnt, I promise."

He looks at you doubtfully, storming over before pulling you into a tight embrace. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"Don't be. It's okay. Don't be scared to text me if you're in any trouble. Promise you'll let me know if you're in danger?"

"I promise."

"Good," he mutters, though more as a reassurance for himself, resting his head on yours and breathing deeply.

"You can let me go now," you point out gently.

"Two more minutes."

Jason Todd

When your boyfriend takes longer to show up than expected, you start to get confused. And cold— it's the middle of winter and your hoodie was stolen while you were out with your friends.

And that wouldn't be a problem if you're car wasn't starting either.

The familiar roar of a motorcycle engine catches your attention, dark shape speeding down the street towards you. It skids to a stop, the tires screeching in order to slow.

"Hey," you say with a wave and a smile. "Car broke down and—"

Red Hood rushes off his motorbike, carefully grabbing you to look you over in the empty street. When he finds nothing, he sighs. "Thought you'd been kidnapped. Couldn't find you at your apartment."

Without waiting for your reply, he shrugs his brown leather jacket off his shoulders and places it around yours, helping you put your arms into the sleeves despite you protesting that you can do it yourself.

"Let's get you home," he says gruffly, aching to hold you in his embrace when no one can see. "I'll call in a favour to get your car fixed."

Tim Drake

You don't think you'd ever been more embarrassed in your life when you realised you forgot your phone, which has your card in the case, at home.

Tim rushes into the store, having tracked your location immediately and driving well over the speed limit, still in his pristine CEO outfit.

"What's wrong? Is someone bothering you?" his eyes dart around the store, taking everyone's face and putting it to memory.

"No... I forgot my phone and card. And I have a full cart of groceries. Tim, I can't put this all back, that's weird."

"Why didn't you ask me to pay before?"

"I— hmm. I'll do that next time."

You lead him to the counter were the high school aged cashier gapes at the richest man in Gotham who pays for the food without even glancing at the price.

Damian Wayne

When you texted 911 to your boyfriend, you certainly weren't expecting this. Somehow, in the five minutes of the text being sent, he managed to gather ten League of Assassins members that now stand in your suddenly very cramped apartment, sharp katanas at their side.

"Are you alright?" Damian himself has two katanas, glinting in the terrible lights. "What's wrong?"

It seems so stupid now with ten assassins behind him. Maybe you shouldn't have texted after all. "Look, it's really—"

"I don't care how little it is," he states, "You texted me for a reason."

"I... I thought I could hear someone talking and moving in the walls."

All eleven of them tense, exchanging glances. Damian gives them one sharp nod and the assassins begin locating any hollow spaces in the walls, tapping their knuckles and listening closely to the sounds.

"وجدت ذلك," one says after a few seconds.

"Don't worry about it habibi, we'll tear the building apart and find them," Damian assures you, pulling you into his arms.

[phyllocnistis]

kind strangers

butch4butch threesome with a nervous baby butch getting his fucking guts rearranged by some older dykes

this was really fun!! longer than my normal ones but slutty and hot

your skin sticks to the inside of your leather jacket, warm from the night outside. still, you had brought it with you, convinced you looked cooler when you wore it. and maybe you did! was that really something for you to decide?

striding forward, you navigate through crowded pathways bumping into people as you go. it's not too crowded tonight, but there are definitely some unfamiliar faces. there's a beautiful lady you'd never seen off to the side wearing a denim vest and plaid dress that hugged her in all the right places- she was a total babe. it looked like she was waiting for friends, maybe a date? you set off towards her nervously, tripping a little on your shoes as you do.

"h-hi," you stammer out, cheeks flushing red. she looks puzzled but amused by you.

"hi?" she responds quizzically.

"i-i was just wondering if you-" a tall, lean figure slides in next to the woman, their arm wrapping around her waist, promptly ending the conversation.

feeling humiliated, you turn and rush to the bar, desperately in need of a drink. your arm brushes against someone else's as you sit down and you're even more aware of how goddamn hot this jacket really was. you peel it off of yourself, flustered at how the night had started. putting your head in your hands, you let out a sigh, biceps involuntarily flexing as you grow frustrated.

"rough night, huh? here," the voice startles you, but it was thick and rich, like syrup. looking up, you find a shot you didn't order on the bar in front of you. your chest tightened when you saw the body the voice belonged to.

"i'm beau," they continued. beau was leaning against the bar, one elbow propped up to steady them. they wore nice jeans that hugged their tummy beneath the tucked in flowy shirt that hung off their shoulders. a large brimmed cowboy hat sat perfectly over what you thought was a curly mullet, though it was too dark to tell. the gold of their necklace glinted at you off their chest, causing your eyes to flutter and your mind to slam back to reality. you'd never really been on for butches but something about them was enticing.

"h-hi. hi beau. i'm jay. is this for me?" you ask, gesturing to the shot.

they laugh, turning around to put both arms on the bar.

"yeahhhhh, seems like you got it pretty rough over there. we watched the whole thing and i remember times bein like that, figured we could lend a hand. this is lou,"

before your mouth could catch up to ask questions, a second person emerged from beside beau, taller and more sturdy looking. they were stunning, too. long, dark hair fell from beneath a bandana and onto a white, fitting tank top. their arms were wide, too big to see individual muscles but built nonetheless. a similar necklace to beau's is around around their neck, swaying gently as they waved.

"to jay!" lou's voice was loud and boisterous, filling the room with joy and your stomach with embarrassment. you feel your cheeks running hot again, but you're not sure they ever returned to their normal color in the first place. you didn't have time to think though, lou and beau were holding their shots up high, waiting for you to do the same. reluctantly, you clinked your glass on theirs and downed the shot.

it burned. it felt nice, too. it was relieving to know you could feel something other than humiliation.

slamming the glass down, you looked up to find beau and lou staring back at you eagerly with wide eyes that had a "tell us everything" look in them. maybe it was their disarming stare, maybe it was the shot. either way, you felt inclined to speak to them, to let it out and put all your cards on the table.

"i just! i don't know what i'm doing wrong," you exclaim, the edges of your body and mind blurring from the alcohol.

"i feel like every time i see a pretty girl, i clam up. i can't ever get further than hi or they're already taken by someone hotter than me or they don't like butches or god forbid, they're straight!"

"well, do you like butches?" lou asked, leaning back onto the bar how beau had. a toothpick hung out of their mouth and you could tell both of them were amused by your woes.

the question caught you off guard. you'd never really... thought about it? yes.. you liked butches; both your friends and yourself fell into that category, but you hadn't ever been with one. you'd never looked at one.. like *that.* until tonight, really. you mulled over the words for a second, trying to parse if you actually were into butches, but you found it hard to focus with both of them looking back at you.

"do.. do i like butches?"

they both chuckled.

"yes," beau answered, "do you like butches?"

you figured since you'd already been this honest with them, might as well go all the way.

"maybe? ive never been with one or even flirted with one,"

beau and lou leaned in closer to you, frowning and pushing their bottom lips out comically.

"we aren't good enough to flirt with?" both immediately broke their gaze and burst into laughter, obviously getting off on making you feel even more nervous.

the words caught up to you and before you had a chance to stop them, they spilled out of your mouth.

"no, no! you're both very handsome, i've just. i've never met another butch who likes butches, it's new."

you saw lou waving the bartender down behind beau to order another round but your vision was filled with beau's charming smile as they leaned in closer to you, inches from your face.

"it's as old as time, hun."

a new feeling overcame you now, causing your stomach to churn with something you'd never felt. it was enchanting to speak with them. they both felt so calming, so real and kind. beau waited several moments before pulling away from your face, only interrupted by lou offering up the shots they'd just ordered.

"ooh, what'd i miss, babe?" lou leans in to kiss beau's jawbone, causing them to shut their eyes and grin drunkenly. a kiss? were you reading the situation correctly? you thought they'd been flirting with you at least a little bit. had you fucked this up too?

"ohhh, nothing. just seeing if jay here wanted to come home with us tonight, that's all."

the words were a shock to your system, you hadn't expected it. "with us." were they both flirting with you? did you care? you came out tonight hoping to get laid, hoping to please some pretty girl. how was this any different?

lou and beau stared at you expectantly, waiting for an answer with eager eyes.

stammering, you reply,

"i-i. yeah. yes, i want- let's do that."

the two of them smiled at you and rolled their eyes slightly. beau raised their shot glass and offered a toast. you slammed this shot easier than the first.

beau closed the tab as lou dragged you towards the door. as you strode to the door, lou's firm grip around your wrist, you notice the girl from before and shoot her a smirk. she doesn't look amused anymore.

lou pulls you towards their truck, pushing you against the bed of it before leaning into you. they smelled delicious; slightly sweet.

"man, you really are cute, can i kiss you?"

your mind is racing and you nod without even realizing. seconds later, warm lips part your own and a large hand cups the side of your face. lou kisses you hungrily, almost like they want to eat you up. you'd always led encounters before, kissing other girls like this but you let them take the lead, excited for the break. footsteps startle you back to reality and you look up to find beau striding across the gravel.

"i-i. holy shit, i'm so sorry. i didn't-"

"when's my turn?"

you find yourself frozen for a moment before beau walks up to you, pulling you by your belt loops into them. they lean down to you and you find that the kiss they offer is incredibly similar and totally different from the one lou had just given you. complementary of one another.

the sound of the truck starting causes beau to pull away again, looking to you and nodding back to the truck.

it's a one cab truck and lou is already in the driver seat, so you pile in together, your body squeezed between lou's and beau's.

the drive was uneventful, though beau and lou's hands wandered up your jeans gently, similar to how you would've slid your hand up a skirt. this flustered you. their movements were totally in sync and made your skin feel electrified, but not hot like that damn jacket had.

lou pulled up to a nice apartment and the two of them led you inside, giggling and looking at each other as they walked ahead of you. they pulled you into the home, taking your jacket and hanging it for you before leading you to a couch.

"are you thirsty? can we get you anything?"

you figured you could use some water and said as much, hoping your future self would thank you. your mind felt fuzzy from the shots you had taken and the kisses you had received and your heart raced with anticipation for what was to come.

"this is a really nice place.. do you both live here?" you ask naively.

lou giggled and smiled back at you, untying their boots as they did. you tried not to look down their shirt when they bent over but it was futile.

"yeah, we've been together for the last 10 years and have lived here for... oh i don't know 5-6 years now? babe?"

"probably 6," beau responded, setting a glass of water down in front of you before turning back towards the kitchen. fix

"wow, that's.. that's really beautiful, i'm happy for you.. i didn't realize how beautiful butch couples could be, i guess. no offense, oh my god that sounded awful, i'm- that's not what i-"

"calm down," lou sat down next to you, running their hand from your knee upwards,

"you're doing fine."

you felt yourself begin to loosen up, comforted by the reassuring presence of them both. beau returned from the kitchen and sat down on the other side of you, their warm body pressed against yours. they handed you a beautifully wrapped joint and asked you with their velvety voice if you smoked.

you hadn't smoked all week, this was so kind of them. lou offered a lighter from a nearby table and you lit it up, smoke filling the air around you and inside you quickly. you coughed more than you would have liked and were thankful for the water beau had just gotten you.

you figured you should take it easy, only taking a few hits from it while lou and beau finished it up and you all had small talk.

as the high crept in, you felt yourself more relaxed than you had been all night. you DID love butches and you felt safe here. you felt excited and invigorated about trying something new.. you wondered how it would feel to just.. let go. let them take complete control. you couldn't stop thinking about how both of their lips had felt on yours..

"can we take care of you?" lou's words interrupted your thoughts. looking up, you found the two of them looking back at you from either side, hands gently on your lap. with a nod you let out, "please," with far more desperation than you had meant to.

like a well trained animal, the two of them descended onto you in coordinated bliss. you felt your eyes roll back as beau's hands caressed your jawline and their lips traced your neck. lou was busy exploring you with their hands; squeezing your bicep, running their hands through your hair, unbuckling your belt. you'd always loved the sight of someone at your knees like that but you didn't know what it was like to actually receive from someone.

all three of you let out little moans and took turns kissing. at one point, both of them were pressed in close to you with your arms pinned beneath you. together, they kissed and licked your neck and jawbone at the same time and you could feel yourself melting into a puddle for them.

eventually, lou left the room to get something. beau pulled at your pants now, urging them off your legs and sliding them onto the floor. god, they were so hot looking up at you like that. you wanted one of them to touch you, to fuck you. you could feel how wet you were, something you rarely let yourself enjoy during other hookups. beau looked up at you with needy eyes, practically drooling over you. it was this moment you decided to fully give in. the bud and drinks from earlier had played their part and now it was time for you to experience ecstasy. as their fingers pulled at your boxers, it revealed your dripping bush and shaking legs. you smiled as you felt beau's mouth kissing and biting the inside of your thighs. their fingers brushed gently across your skin, barely touching where you so deeply needed it. just then, lou emerged.

your breath caught at the sight of them; leather buckled strap hanging from their hips, same white tank top from before, a ravenous look in their eye. you felt your cunt tense up and beau's lips smiling against your skin. in one heavenly motion, beau's lips parted your own, their tongue exploring parts of you that had never been explored before. tiny bits pulling at your skin made your head fall back and every time their tongue circled around your clit, you let out a pleading moan.

lou sat down next to you, pulling your open mouth into a sweet, warm kiss. you found it hard to focus as beau's tongue fucked you, licking around your folds and in and out of you while their soft moans vibrated your clit. still, you returned the favor and kissed lou back the best you could, pausing every few moments to moan into their mouth when you got overstimulated.

lou's kisses were getting nastier though. their mouth wrapped around your tongue and sucked it, they licked from your neckline all the way up to your ear. they were pulling your head back by your hair when you felt a soft pressure from below. instantly, you felt fireworks erupt inside of you as beau's fingers pushed inside of you.

holy fuck, that felt good. is this what the girls you fucked had felt every time? you pulled away from lou, too distracted now to kiss too. they didn't seem to mind though.. after a few minutes of slowly working their fingers around you and inside of you, you felt them slowly pulling out, wet stickiness clinging to them. you open your eyes and frown at the sight, desperately needing to be filled again.

"wait, please," you moan breathlessly.

a new sensation. hands around your waist.

lou was pulling you onto their lap, onto their strap. you'd never taken one before but now you felt like you might die if you didn't.

lou spread your legs apart from behind you, your back pressed completely against theirs. with perfect gentleness, 2 fingers pressed around your clit and circled it, spit and juices rolling over in their hands.

suddenly, beau was beneath you both, their mouth wrapped around the silicone expertly. you could feel them when they got close to you, their breath warming your cunt. every few seconds, their nose or cheek would graze your leg or your bush and you'd find your legs quaking and quivering.

lou's hands explored your body, pulling your shirt off. with a shock, you felt something hot splatter across your cunt and realized beau had spit in it. like clockwork, lou was using their big arms to lift you up, helping to position you exactly where you needed to be. you pulled your legs underneath you, excited to give this a shot.

beau was here to help. when you were just above the lou's strap, needing to be filled, beau's hand reached out to help. similarly to how you'd tease girls in the past, beau helped lou tease you. their fingers pressed the silicone tip into your folds, but not inside of you. you felt the cold material warm up as lou teased your clit and your hole with the strap. it was really, really hard to focus now, but you could see beau grinning while they watched you squirm.

finally, you couldn't take it anymore. you couldn't handle the teasing. moving your hips yourself, you placed yourself firmly on the strap and sunk down onto it, feeling every inch of it stretch you as you did. it felt so fucking good. what had you been missing this whole time? you could see beau's eyes light up as you slid onto it and lou's hands tightened around your hips as you did.

the two of them were enjoying this just as much as you were, evident by the growls and pants they both let out. you worked your hips over the strap, rolling them and thrusting where it felt best. you let lou completely slut you out; they raised you up, strong and sturdy, and fucked their hips into you, each pulse filling you with a throbbing need for more.

"you're doing so good, handsome."

lou's voice melted over you causing your muscles to scream. you're so preoccupied that you didn't even notice beau leave the room.

they returned wearing their own strap, similar in style to lou's, but this one was bigger, it seemed. your eyes lit up at the sight, ready to climb onto it. lou helped you up, ready to give beau a turn with you.

flipping you onto your stomach, beau pushed their cock in from behind, squeezing your hips and thighs as they did. it was huge, filling you up exactly how you wanted. unknowingly, you began to shake your ass eager to get deeper and deeper onto their shaft. it was more tiring than you had expected, your legs growing weaker from holding yourself up. when this happened, beau firmly gripped your waist and pulled you into them, fucking you raw like a toy. when you were screaming and shaking, legs unable to keep you steady, beau gave you the hardest pounds you had felt all night and dropped you onto the couch face first, all used up.

lou swept in, helping you up and eventually carrying you to their room. they laid you down and kissed your face before getting up to grab you water. beau came in shortly after while you lay there a wet, shaking mess.

"how are you holding up, dear?"

their voice could make you come again.

"i- thank you. holy fuck," you collapsed into their lap as they sat on the bed next to you. soft hands caressed your hair and you were knocked out before lou even made it back with water.

the next morning, you woke to the smell of a delicious breakfast. there were clothes on the bed for you, yours nowhere to be seen. they fit you perfectly. there was a brand new toothbrush waiting in the bathroom for you and after you gathered yourself, you emerged to find lou and beau both grinning at you over freshly made coffee.

you spent the morning with them, longer than you would have with a precious hookup. they fed you a delicious breakfast and gave you your clothes back, washed and folded. when you were finally ready to leave, you turned to change back into your clothes.

"why don't you keep them, hmm?" beau asked.

"what? i don't need-" you interjected, not wanting to take their things.

"but then," lou continued, "you can bring them back.. and we could see you again."

they winked, looking at you the same way they had last night when they had been deep, deep inside you.

"i- okay, yeah. yeah. i'll see you both again," you replied, already thinking of how badly you wanted to fuck them again.

they called you an uber back to the bar where you picked up your car and drove home in a stunned silence. every bump in the road made you grind your hips or clench your cunt.. when you got home, you found a note in your clothes with both their numbers and within a week, you were back in their arms; their thick cocks in either side of you.

[lucidfairies]

money [a.a]

pairing: ceo!abby x secretary!reader

synopsis: when you finally land the job of your dreams, you had no idea what your boss would be like. and damn, no idea you conjured could've done her justice.

warnings: top!abby, bottom!reader, age gap (reader is in her 20s, abby is in her early 40s), cunnilingus (r/a receiving), strap (r!receiving), praise + degradation, mommy kink, dirty talk, manhandling, pet names (sweetheart, sweet girl, angel, baby, whore, slut)

word count: 3.3k

it wasn't everyday that you landed a job with one of the most well known law firms in washington. for now you were just a secretary, someone to sit outside of an office and take calls, but your hope was to work your way up to one of their lawyers.

you had little prior experience with being a secretary, but it was just enough to get you this gig. the building was large, and the office you were to assist was on one of the highest floors, naturally where the head of the firm was.

you knew her, abby anderson. incredibly talented lawyer who even won over a supreme court case. though you hadn't met her in person, you were exhilarated to meet her. she was who you dreamed to be, especially by her age.

it wasn't until your third day, when abby was finally in the office, when you got a glimpse of what working here would actually look like. abby showed up in a well pressed black suit, armani logo drilling into your eyes like a laser, making you feel all that underdressed.

"do I know you?" she asked when you knocked gently on her office door and went in. she truly didn't mean to be rude - her son had been sick for three days and she was feeling it now - but you didn't know that. you automatically assumed she was an asshole, and that threw you off.

you cleared your throat, meeting her eyes and immediately shifting them again. she was intimidating, almost scary. "I'm y/n. I'm your new assistant." she looked you up and down, gaze still burning your skin, and the corner of her mouth turned up to a smirk.

"great. I take my coffee black, nothing in it. there will be a card on your desk that you can charge it to every morning. get yourself something. I expect you to leave before I do, as I stay late. by any chance, do you babysit?" your eyes found hers as you finally looked up.

"I mean, I can. I used to when-" she cut you off, uninterested in anything except the yes. you noted that for later.

"I might need you to pick up my son from school every couple weeks. not often, and certainly not until I've run a background check on you." she wasn't hardly looking at you now, eyes flipping between her papers and computer. "did I miss anything?"

"no ma'am," you said, standing up and instinctively wiping off your skirt, though there was nothing there. suddenly you were back at your desk, waiting for calls and bookings to come in while trying to make sense of that interaction.

the next day you arrived late, but in your defense, the line at the coffee place was long and traffic was even longer, and now you weren't even sure that the coffee was hot. abby was there when you gently knocked on her door, allowing your entry with a low 'come in.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, there was really bad traffic and the line-"

"it's okay, sweet girl." your stomach flipped. yesterday, when your eyes knew nothing but the floor, you hadn't exactly taken in her appearance, but today. today.

today she was in a black turtleneck, sleeves right around the muscle in her arms that just made her look so, so good. her black slacks were tight at her hips with a belt, and they were hugging her legs so tight that you were sure the seam would rip.

her hair was pulled into a nice bun and she wore no makeup, not that she ever needed to. she had freckles, beautiful eyes. rings. she had rings, that she could put inside of you any day.

"I'll be on time tomorrow, miss." your gaze dropped again as you turned to leave her office. this was surely going to be nothing but torture for the following months.

two weeks later was the first time she asked you to stay late. you originally had plans, but the way your name dripped off of her tongue like honey made you immediately cancel them. she had asked you politely to pick up her son, and you even acquired her number from the ordeal.

dealing with kids was not your specialty, but abby's son was a delight. he talked all about his mom, some about his dad and it made you wonder if abby was single or not. she never wore a ring to your knowledge, not even on a necklace, and from your speculation she almost looked like a lesbian. maybe you were just dreaming about the end.

if you had taken your apartment and multiplied it by ten, it still wouldn't be half the size of abby's house. she truly did have money, if the armani suits and porsche didn't say that already.

an hour into your babysitting, which almost just felt like hanging out with a kid in a mansion, abby got home. she walked in, greeting you with the first real smile you had ever seen on her face. your brain malfunctioned when you gently placed her hand on your arm and pressed an innocent kiss onto your cheek.

you were blushing profusely, pupils blown, almost dizzy, all she did was kiss your cheek, a very normal way of greeting someone and you were fucked. abby didn't fail to see you run your fingers over the spot and look at them before quickly turning back towards the two of them.

abby lived for it. lived for the you drooled over everything she did, lived for the way that she was sure her fingers would look so, so good in your mouth... and she tried not to think about it. how could she, when her son was standing right next to her, trying to tell her about his day, and you. you just looked so innocent.

you were engulfed in her smell, the perfect balance of pine and amber and erotica. she smelled like five hundred dollar cologne right off the shelf of valentino. you wanted to smell like that, wanted to smell like that, wanted to wear her clothes and have everyone think that you were together.

"thanks for coming, sweetheart. I'll see you on monday." you looked at her with your brows knit, knowing you had work the following day, friday. "take the day off. you did something for me, and I'm repaying you. use my card and get something."

the amount of money she had to just throw around was so attractive to you. she was an independent woman who brought in millions every year and was letting some secretary she had known for three weeks let buy anything on a day off.

monday had arrived, and you had purchased nothing with abby's card, naturally. you weren't one to spend someone's money just because they had a lot of it, or because they told you to. she would've had to buy it for you to accept it, at that.

it was nearing eleven when abby called you into her office by your first name, instead of one of the many nicknames she always seems to use. "sit." she demanded as you stepped in, and you did so.

"is something wrong, ms. anderson?" she wasn't mad, but she was irritated. she told you to do something, told you to put yourself first and you didn't.

"I told you to treat yourself on friday," her gaze left her laptop and met your eyes. "why didn't you?" you blanked for a moment.

"I just.. I didn't feel right spending money that wasn't mine." she gave you a disapproving look, before getting up and coming around her desk to stand in front of you. in a matter of moments, one of her large hands was grabbing your jaw and forcing your head up to look at her.

she bent down slightly, lips grazing over yours, and you were sure she could feel how much your face heated up. "next time I tell you to do something, you're going to do it. understand, sweet girl?"

"I don't-" your pupils were blown and you were so desperate for her to press her lips just a bit closer, fill the gap and just let you have it.

"say 'yes abby'."

"y-yes abby." she let go of your face and went back to her desk, pretending to pay you little attention, but she was acutely aware of the way you pushed your thighs together and squirmed.

"you're dismissed. I expect to see a charge by the morning." you got up and hurried out, going straight to the bathroom. your face was burning up, and you could vaguely see an imprint from her hand.

you were meaninglessly circling the mall, trying to decide what to spend this newfound money on. obviously you wouldn't get something big and glamorous, no matter how much she seemingly wanted you to.

every time you walked, you seemed to pass victoria's secret. It seemed like it was calling you to buy something, and after that interaction with abby earlier, you decided that maybe you should treat yourself and went in.

you looked around for a while before finding a cute blue set, with embroidered, lacy flowers. it was nothing special, just transparent and high waisted, but it was speaking to you. suddenly you knew what you were wearing to work the next day.

- - -

you felt completely scandalous wearing a short little skirt over the lingerie in the morning, with a button down, where the first few buttons were unbuttoned. it was different from your usual dress pants and blouse, but it definitely did what you needed it to do.

work was as usual for the majority of the morning, and you were suddenly doubting why you wore what you did. there was no point, you were seriously delusional and seriously needed help. what kind of freak where's lingerie and completely inappropriate work clothes to work after one minor interaction with their boss?

that was until you got a simple email from ms. anderson herself, reading nothing but;

my office. now, please.

you cleared your throat, brushed out your hair slightly and adjusted your shirt before nonchalantly entering her office. you sat, observing the way she remained quiet for a moment before clearing her desk and turning her attention towards you.

“did you think I wouldn't realize?” she asked, cooly, with her eyebrows raised slightly. “I mean, props to you, you did as you were told. but I checked the card. I'm not the only one who can see the transactions on that card either, sweetheart.”

you were immediately red. who else could see them? “I didn't r-really think-”

“no, you didn't. I bet the men in my finances would love to see you dancing around in whatever you bought, wouldn't they, baby?” she was standing before you could think, hands resting on the handles of your chair. “why don't you show me, huh? I know you're wearing it.”

“I'm not- we can't do that here.” you looked around, though you knew no one would ever bother her and her office had no cameras. “we're at work, abigail.” there was a fast switch in her eyes, the way they went from cocky to wide, almost needy.

“fuck,” her head dropped into the crook of your neck before she ran her nose along your jaw. “say it again. please, baby.” her tone, the gentle pleading made any rational thoughts disappear from your mind. your hand wrapped around the collar of her button down and pulled her in gently.

“abigail,” you whispered, “I want this,” with that, her hands were everywhere, all at once. she was pulling you up, wrapping her large hands around your hips as she pulled you in for a harsh kiss. she was forcing you onto her desk, keeping her lips to yours as your bodies molded to each other.

she left your lips, finding a perfect spot on your neck and sucking. you gasped when you felt her hand undoing the buttons of your shirt and pulling it out of your skirt. you were grabbing her by her waist trying to pull her closer as she continued to mark up your neck and grab your tits.

when she finally pulled away from your neck, her eyes became wide looking at your lingerie clad tits. you slid your shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it, looking up at her as you began to unbutton hers. she didn't let you get very far before she was gently pushing you back until your back was against the cool wood of the desk.

she unclipped your bra and pulled it off, tongue immediately meeting your nipple. she bit it and you yelped, grabbing her shoulders. her large hand was messing with your other, tugging gently and kneading. "I love your tits so fucking much, baby.” she mumbled into your skin while she kissed down your stomach.

she left more hickies on your ribs, but you desperately needed her in one place. she was pulling your skirt down in seconds, pressing her tongue against you like it was nothing and watching you arch and moan. she was eating you out through your underwear for a minute, before you grabbed her hair and pulled her head up.

"take them off." she smirked, and her head tilted slightly to the side.

"who said you're in charge, sweet angel?" the nickname was new, but you fucking loved that she always called you sweet. you were something sweet to her, and that made your brain lag every time.

"abby please," you bucked into her, chasing friction. that's when you felt it; the large bulge in her slacks that you hadn't noticed earlier.

"feel that, baby? that's all for you." she pulled down your underwear slowly, tossing it in the pile of clothes. she spread your lips, watching slick connect and drip down your thighs. your face burned and you covered it, embarrassed. "uncover your face or I'll stop." you did as told.

she pulled a ponytail off her wrist and pulled her hair into a bun before pressing her tongue into your clit and licking a fat stripe. your head hit the desk with a thud, reveling at the feeling. she worked your clit, sucking it into her mouth and painting patterns with her tongue while she pressed a finger into entrance.

she used her free hand to hold you down by your stomach, since your squirming was messing her up. you whined when she added a second finger, not used to her thick fingers. "if you can't take my fingers, how am I supposed to fuck you with my strap?" you moaned at her words, loving the dirtiness of it.

she returned to your clit and you got loud when she curled her fingers up into the best spot, whimpering and groaning. she remembered the time when you pressed your fingers to your cheek in her house, and brought her unused hand to your mouth, tapping your chin lightly. "open your mouth and suck," she instructed, noticing your confused look.

you took two of her fingers in your mouth and sucked them, which shut you up. your stomach coiled, a warm feeling rushing between your legs before you could even mumble a word. it felt like you just kept coming, until she finally pulled away from your cunt.

"are you gonna give me another one, angel?" she was unclipped her belt while you caught your breath. "wanna fuck you all day." she pulled her pants and boxers down just barely enough to get her strap out. "flip over, ass up." you turned over, fucked out muscles aching.

she ran the tip of her strap between your folds, letting your wetness lube it up, then lined up with your hole. she pushed just the tip in, groaning at the way you took it so well and swallowed her in. "what if I just fucked you like this, huh?" you whined.

"please.. need more," you pushed your hips back slightly, trying to push her in further. she pulled out, simply pushing the tip back in.

"desperate fucking whore," she thrust in on the last word, bottoming out immediately. you whimpered, the strap stretching you far more than her fingers. "aw, baby, does that hurt?" she pulled out far and fucked into you again.

she started fucking you, deep and hard, until you were moaning and grabbing onto the desk, trying to stabilize yourself. one of her hands left your hips and grabbed your hair, wrapping it around her fist and tugging. "fuck.. abby- abs.. mommy,”

your eyes widened at the name, which came out unintentionally. she stopped momentarily before groaning and picking her pace back up rapidly. "call me that again." the tip of her strap kissed your cervix and bumped against your g-spot every time. her arm wrapped around your waist, flicking your clit.

"mommy.. m'gonna cum." you slurred, cock drunk and fucked out. she kept her pace, hardly changing anything except for the fact that she was louder now, finding the perfect angle to get the harness to hit her clit.

"just wait a second, my love,” you held it for as long as you could, but it became too much, and she was hitting just right. your mind went absolutely blank as your vision went white, a wave crashing over you as you came.

you could hear abby moaning, but you were still going, and unable to think of anything. “fuck baby, you make such a mess.” you relaxed your tense body and look over your shoulder at abby's soaked harness, pants, and desk.

“m’sorry.” she slowly pulled her strap out and unclipped it front her hips, letting you lay for another minute before she grabbed your hips and helped you flip over and sit up. “wanna make you cum, mommy.” you looked at her with doe eyes, watching her eyes darken.

“I already came, sweetheart. don't worry about me.” you brought your hand down to cup her cunt and she took in a sharp breath. you ground your palm against her clit and she groaned, shifting her stance from foot to foot.

you slid off the desk with wobbly legs and kneeled in front of her, pupils blown. “please mommy,” you ran your nails over her abs and under her boxer strap lightly, making her muscles tense.

“such a slut, aren't you? want mommy to fuck your face?” you nodded, pulling her boxers down to her ankles. her blonde bush matched her hair, and you noticed her happy trail that you hadn't earlier. “stick out your tongue, baby, be a good girl.”

you stuck your tongue out flat, not even getting a chance to lick before she was pressing her cunt to your mouth. she fucked herself on your face, gripping your hair tight and grinding fast. you gently pushed her against the desk, lifting one of her legs to your shoulder and leaving the other one down.

she must have loved the new angle, because she was moaning and grunting more than you had ever heard her. her clit was twitching and puffy, wet from your spit and her slick. she let out an involuntary whimper, and it was like music to your ears. “gonna c-cum on your f-fucking face, angel.”

her legs shook as she came, ans you spent the following moments licking all of it up. you pulled away and stood up, still shaky. she pulled her boxers and slacks up, moving towards the pile of clothes and handing you what was yours. “do you wanna get dinner tonight?” she stopped what she was doing to button up your shirt and zip your skirt.

“yeah, that's great.” she smiled, kissing you softly.

“you can go home if you want to clean up. I can take my own calls for a few minutes.” it was your turn to smile, grateful to get out of your uncomfortable, wet clothes.

“I'll see you tonight?” you asked, looking over your shoulder once you got to the door.

“pick you up at seven.”

a/n: part two? 🤭

tag list: @shewantstoknow @baumbii @zombholic

[rememberwren]

A Complete Set (Whatever That Means) || 1

This is a direct sequel to Skin Deep which can be read here. From now on I'm splitting up any one shot that is longer than 10k. So here is part one of this sequel. 6k.

Johnny pierces fem!reader’s nipples.

About this: at least five nipples in this one, an altogether questionable use for a sequel, nipple play, graphic depiction of nipple piercings, alcohol, jealous!soap, spoilers in the 'about this' section, iffy writing. Reader has enough hair to “hold back” and height difference necessitates that she “looks up” to speak to Simon.

-

Thirty minutes waiting for Green Jade Chinese takeout when you’re only a block from the restaurant is a crime. It’s even more of a crime when it’s thirty minutes spent away from Ghost—whose name you have learned is Simon. Laying on the sofa in Skin Deep, your stomach gives another shameful growl. You glance at the clock on your phone, hoping he hasn’t run into trouble…though you’re not sure there’s much in the way of trouble that Simon couldn’t handle. 

The bell over the door rings, and you sit up, smile blooming in anticipation. 

“Hey youuu–fuck!” you nearly shriek. 

Standing in the doorway is a man who is decidedly not Simon, though there are similarities. They are both tall (though Simon must stand a hand taller), and broad (this bloke’s biceps are threatening the sleeves of his t-shirt as he crosses his arms across his chest), but that is where the similarities end. Where Simon is pale and blond, this man is tan and brunet, his hair a cropped mohawk that looks soft to brush one's fingers through. 

Looking over his shoulder is a beautiful woman with braids that drip down to her shoulder blades. 

“I tend to have that effect on women,” he says, glancing back at her. 

“I can imagine,” she says, no small hint of flirtation in her voice.

“Um. Sorry, but there aren’t any walk-ins,” you remind them. The sign had been right bloody there. Could they not read? A more important question: were they murderers looking for their next victim? In the city, one could never know if a person was malevolent or just stupid. 

“Where’s the big guy?” the man asks. He holds up a hand a few inches above his head. “Tall. Devastatingly handsome. Monosyllabic.” 

“He should be back any minute.” That’s what you’re supposed to say, right? You always let the murderers know that time is not on their side; no inconvenient prey here. Try again elsewhere. “Maybe you two could wait outside.” 

The man does a neat little trick with his tongue, flashing a silver barbell piercing at you like a calling card. “I’m the piercer, lass. I own forty-nine percent of the business. Let Ghost know I’m back with a client, alright? Nice meetin’ you.” 

The two of them disappear together behind the curtain at the back of the shop, leaving you hoping that a small hole will open up directly beneath your coordinates and swallow you whole. Hopefully it will leave the shop intact. Maybe you had the time to let Simon know not to look for your body—

The bell rings again, and this time it is Simon, his mask still pulled up over his nose and mouth, one paper bag of fragrant Chinese food tucked under his arm. He takes in the sight of you with your head in your hands, elbows on your knees and approaches with caution. 

“What’s this?” he wonders out loud. He sets down the bag and tears it open: egg drop soup, pork fried rice, crab rangoon. All your favorite goodies. A feminine giggle is heard from the back of the shop and he sighs, eyes rolling toward the ceiling.“Soap. What’d he say to you?” 

“Nothing. I just put my foot in my mouth.” 

“Yer a flexible one, aren’t you.”

“Just in that one, very specific way, trust me,” you say, accepting the disposable chopsticks he hands you. You break them apart and go looking amongst the packages of food for your rice. “I mistook him for a client and asked him to wait outside.” 

Simon sucks on his teeth, a sure-fire sign that he is trying not to laugh. 

You launch a chopstick at him, scoffing when he catches it nimbly out of the air and offers it back to you. 

“Careful with that,” he says solemnly. “Could have taken my fuckin’ eye out.” 

In the back, a scream rings out. You jerk, nearly upending the rice in your lap. Under his breath, Simon mutters: “Always Soap with the screamers.” 

-

That night, the two of you fuck at his flat. He puts you on top of him, where you can control how deep the penetration is, and it gives you a chance to explore the angles that you never really had a chance to explore with other partners. With others, it had been a race: rushing toward some blissful edge, hurrying to get them (and if you were lucky, yourself) off as quickly as possible. With Simon, you were just discovering that sex could be fun; sex could be slow; sex could end with no one orgasming and it could still change your life. 

He is an excellent sport while you ride him, his eyes quiet and soft in a way they aren’t when you’re outside of his flat together, when the mask is on and pulled up into place. If he weren’t so fucking put together, you might say that he were pussy drunk. As it is, he stays still, hands kneading your thighs until you nearly get a cramp in your hip and then he sits up, guiding you off of him and back into the bedsheets, laying face to face to fuck you in a way that is so painfully intimate it makes you want to shut your eyes. 

Afterwards, you curl up against his side and find yourself playing with his nipple piercing. He’s got cute nipples: small and pink as his mouth. The barbell is black, a nice contrast to his skin tone. He watches you sometimes, other times letting his eyes fall shut. 

“Did this hurt?” you ask him, tugging on the barbell a little. 

“Yes,” he says in that dry way that lets you know your question has amused him. 

“You know what I mean. You’ve gotten tattoos and had your ears pierced. What’s the worst pain?” 

 He shifts to touch a spot on his inner arm where a black and white skull rests. The skin is delightfully soft and thin. “This part nearly had me in tears. Barely felt the nipple, in comparison.” 

Your mouth says it before your brain comprehends it: “Maybe I should get mine done.” 

He stares at you, eyes briefly falling to your breasts. He reaches down and skims his fingers along the curve of one, his fingertips calloused but his touch so very soft. He says: “Soap did this, didn’t he?” 

“What do you mean?”

“You’re alone with Soap for sixty seconds and now you want your tits pierced. Are you saying that’s a coincidence?” 

You frown. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe he influenced me, subconsciously?”

“He didn’t ask you?” 

“No! He had a client with him.” 

Simon hums. His face is closed off, expression unreadable. You can sense there is more that he holds back the same way you can sense a body of water is deep, but he doesn’t share and you don’t push him, not sure if you’re ready to take that plunge yourself. 

“It was a silly idea,” you backpedal. “Forget I said anything.” 

“It’s your body,” Simon says, ignoring your words. “You should do whatever you want with it.”

“Yeah? You’d be surprised how rarely anybody ever says that to a woman.”

“Most people are cunts.” 

“True.” You reach out and thumb at his nipple again, just to satisfy the urge in your own tiny, one track brain. He takes a measured breath—for Simon, that’s as good as a moan. Your eyes flicker down, but his cock is hidden somewhere beneath the sheets. “Want to go again?”

He guides your hand down to wrap around his cock which is like hard steel wrapped in smooth velvet. 

You roll on top of him. The cramp in your thigh has faded by now. Reaching up, you palm your breasts, briefly playing with your nipples. You’ve never considered yourself to be particularly sexy, but the way he looks at you makes you feel powerful, like the sun lives just underneath your skin.

“I think I do want them done,” you say, watching the hungry way he watches your fingers. He sits up, tugging you onto your knees so he can take one nipple into his mouth and tease it with the sharp line of his teeth. 

You figure that’s as good a blessing as any. 

-

Simon tends to spring things on you. Texts are usually last minute and painfully succinct: dinner? or my place? He is prone to just showing up out of the blue, unafraid (and unoffended) to take no for an answer when you’re busy. 

One sunny fall afternoon, the thing he springs on you is Soap. Simon brings you to the shop, telling you that he needs to meet with a client. You’ve never tagged along to something like this before, but you’re beginning to think that there are few places Simon could go where you wouldn’t want to follow. Convinced you will be hiding in the back of the shop without a word to alert either of them to your presence, you agree easily enough. 

But when you arrive, that client is Soap, and instead of letting you hide in the back, Simon picks up a chair with one hand, hauling it across the room so that you both sit flanking Soap on either side while he’s in the tattoo chair getting some fancy, winged symbol just over his pec. 

“We’ve got a spectator? A voyeur?” Soap asks, rubbing his hands together. “Oh you know all my seedy kinks, Ghost.” 

“I can leave, really,” you offer, already moving to stand.

“Sit,” Simon says. 

You sit. Johnny sheds his shirt with obvious relish, and you find the artwork on the wall just over his shoulder to be incredibly interesting all of the sudden. 

Soap extends a hand to you. “The big guy still hasn’t introduced us. Some call me Soap, but beautiful women are allowed to call me Johnny.” 

You shake his warm hand to be friendly and make the mistake of meeting his eyes. They are very blue, framed by dark lashes and expressive eyebrows. He flashes his tongue piercing at you again and you jerk your hand back like you’ve been burned. He laughs. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, MacTavish,” Simon murmurs, putting a gloved hand flat on his chest to force him back against the chair. You see then that Johnny has both his nipples pierced: little golden rings that compliment his tanned skin. 

He’s fit, unfortunately.

You look back at the picture on the wall while Simon grabs the razor to shave Johnny’s pec. You learn that there’s no such thing as silence when Johnny is in the room. He keeps up a consistent chatter of conversation while Simon preps his body and lays the stencil, and it goes a long way to putting you at ease. 

“Would you hold my hand, lass?” Johnny asks, eyes big and guileless. “I’m scared of needles.”

Simon rolls his eyes, tugs his mask into place, and starts the gun without waiting for your response. The buzzing causes a visceral reaction in you, reminding you of your own tattoo that you had received from Simon only weeks ago. A craving rises up in you, tangible in your throat (and between your legs). You shift on the chair Simon brought over for you, eyes drawn to his hands to watch him work. 

Johnny wiggles his fingers at you, palm up. 

Your chair legs screech against the floor as you scoot in bursts towards him and take his hand. You haven’t even held hands with Simon yet, and here you are holding hands with his best friend. Suddenly regret has you wishing you could draw your hand back and wipe the touch away on your leggings. Unaware of your turmoil, Johnny heaves a sigh, giving you a smile that is painfully handsome. “There. Now I feel safe.” 

“You shouldn’t,” Simon reminds him. 

“Ready to tell me where your newfound generosity has come from?” Johnny asks, straining his neck to glance down at Simon’s work. “What happened to never tattooing friends for free?”

“I want you to owe me,” Simon says, voice quiet and distracted as he traces the line work. 

“You need a favor,” Johnny guesses.

“Something like that.”

“Well don’t leave me in suspense.”

“She wants her nipples done.” 

Simon lifts the gun away from his skin just in time for Johnny to jerk in the chair, head swiveling to look at you. Your own head has swiveled to look at Simon, who holds both hands up innocuously, looking not at all apologetic or regretful. 

“You want me to cop a feel of your girlfriend’s tits?”

“Don’t say it like that!” you squawk. 

“It’s true. We get very close and personal during a piercing, lass—“

“There’s a fundamental difference between copping a feel and touching my breast—“ You realize that you are still holding Johnny’s hand and you practically toss it away. 

“I’m not laying a finger on her,” Johnny says firmly, speaking only to Simon now (likely considering you a lost cause). “Period. Out of the question.” 

“I’m not letting her go to a stranger,” says Simon, brows drawn down low on his forehead. “So get over your own bullshit and pierce her, Johnny. It’s fine.” 

Johnny’s mouth shuts with such force that his teeth click together. He turns his eyes on you and stares. You feel like you’ve already taken your top off even though you’ve done no such thing. Shyly, you cross your arms in front of your breasts, giving him your best glare. It has the opposite of intended effect; Johnny’s gaze softens a little, turns pitying. 

“Alright,” he says. “Consider my bullshit over with.” 

Simon inclines his head in gratitude. He picks back up the tattoo gun.

-

“What’s the story with you and Johnny anyway?” you ask Simon over dinner. He rarely takes you out, more content to spend time alone in private rather than in public. His eyes can’t stop scanning the few people in the restaurant. Sometimes his hand reaches for his mask, instinct urging him to draw it back over his mouth and nose, but he doesn’t. 

“We met in the SAS, been friends ever since,” he says succinctly. 

“How’d you two go into business together?” 

“I was doing stick ‘n pokes for anyone who would sit still. He was piercing soldier’s ears in exchange for cigarettes. We both decided we’d rather live to see thirty, so when our time was up, we didn’t re-enlist, pooled our money, bought a location and never looked back.” 

You frown. “I didn’t know you were in the military.” 

He nods, sipping at a water (he’d refused your offer to share a pint together). You’re aware suddenly of how much there is about Simon that you don’t know. 

“Was Johnny the one to pierce your nipple?”

Simon stills for a moment, considering the question. At length he sets his glass down and says slowly: “Yes.”

“Why do I sense there’s a story there?”

“Because there is. I’m sure Soap will be thrilled to tell it with as many details as possible.” 

“Shouldn’t you tell me first, to control the narrative?”

Simon’s mouth twitches, lips quirking upwards at the edges. Coaxing one of his rare smiles from him never failed to make you feel like you were walking on clouds. He says: “You’re clever.”

“High praise.” 

“Does that do something for you?”

“What?”

“Being praised.”

You sputter a little, flustered. But then it occurs to you: “Are you changing the subject?” 

This time he grins, full and beautiful. You think about Soap calling him ‘devastatingly handsome’, and while there was a part of you that was sure the masses would not agree with your assessment of him, you couldn’t help but find Simon striking. Looking at his smile makes you smile, an unconscious mimicry. 

He catches the waitress as she comes by and asks for the check. 

-

“You look frightened,” Johnny says when he spots you as you come into Skin Deep. He’s seated on the couch where you and Simon had sex, texting on his phone. How he knows you look frightened, you couldn’t say; he hasn’t even looked up to greet you. 

“What gave me away?” you ask, feeling queasy. You’d spent half the night awake watching videos on reddit of people getting their nipples pierced feeling increasingly panicked. It looked brutal. It made no sense to stick a needle through one of the most sensitive parts of your body. But it hadn’t made sense to be stabbed a hundred thousand times by microneedles either—and you’d done that. Eagerly, even. 

“That look on your face that says you’re about to be sick,” Simon says from behind you. 

You turn and give him a tepid glare. It’s all you can muster.

Johnny leads you back through the curtain, which you cross with a muted giddiness (your first time in the back of the shop!). It leads to a narrow hallway with a few frosted doors. One is clearly marked as a bathroom. One isn’t marked at all. The last has the light on inside, turning the frosted glass a golden yellow. The writing on the glass says SOAP’S ARTISAN PIERCINGS. He opens the door and ushers you both in. 

The room is small, with a chair similar to Simon’s except for performing piercings. One wall is dominated by cabinets and drawers and mirrors, a small porcelain sink. A table holds a photobook which you make the mistake of skimming through—it’s full of clits, labias, penises, and nipples, all with a variety of gruesome appearing jewelry. 

“Ow,” you mutter, shutting the book.

“Getting ideas for your next piercing?” Johnny asks over his shoulder, washing his hands at the sink. He soaps himself up to the elbows, like a surgeon preparing to root around in your open chest. 

“No,” you say. “Definitely not.” 

Simon has seated himself in one of the chairs in the corner, his legs looking obscenely long with the way they are folded. He leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees, watching you closely. You pull a face at him just to watch the way his eyes roll. 

“Everything off from the waist up,” Soap says, tugging gloves into place. “Any allergies? Latex, dyes?”

He is much more abrupt today than he had been yesterday. You’re almost moved enough to ask him if he’s upset, but perhaps this is just his professionalism. Regardless, you miss the easy-going nature that had gone so far to put you at ease yesterday. 

“No,” you say, shrugging out of your shirt. It is warm in the room but goosebumps still bloom along your arms and chest. God, are you really doing this? Are you really exposing yourself to Simon’s best friend? You glance back over your shoulder, but Simon’s face gives no indication of what you should do. The message is clear: you have to choose. Taking a deep breath, you slide the straps of your bra down your arms and reach around back to undo the clasp, folding everything nice and neatly into a pile on the chair beside you. Your nipples immediately pucker, whether from nerves or some unwilling arousal, you couldn’t say. 

Johnny isn’t even looking at you. He’s opening up packages of frightening looking tools: scissors with clamps on the end, needles, toothpicks? “Had any caffeine today?”

“No. Wait, yes. A tea.”

“Goddamnit, Ghost. You and yer bloody teas.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, not really,” Johnny says. “I’d prefer if you hadn’t drunk it, but what’s done is done. Makes the blood thinner though, you know.”

“Didn’t know that. I thought that was just alcohol.”

“Alcohol is worse,” he agrees. He glances over his shoulder, but towards Simon whose dark figure is haunting the corner of the room. His expression is sly. “Ghost knows all about that, aye?”

You latch on to this news eagerly. “Are you talking about when you pierced his nipple?”

Johnny’s brows lift in obvious surprise. “He told you about that?”

You hear the creak of the chair behind you as Simon shifts but you don’t turn to look at him. “He told me some of it?” you say, voice pitching upward at the end in question. 

“Which parts, exactly?”

“Just that you were the one who had done it.” 

“Left out all the tastiest bits,” Johnny says. “I bet he does that a lot when talking about his days with the 1-4-1.”

Your stomach dips. 

“That’ll do,” Simon says sternly from the corner. 

Johnny scoffs a little, muttering something under his breath as he arranges the tools to his liking. The silence that lingers is thick and awkward. Eager to break it, he turns to you and your tits. “Alright then. Let’s see what we’re working with.” 

You want to cross your arms more than you want to take your next breath, but you don’t. You don’t breathe either, really. Johnny stares at your breasts and then asks you to stand and come closer. Knees knocking together, you do, until you are close enough to smell his cologne or aftershave—whichever you aren’t sure. 

“Biggest question here,” he says, glancing back toward your eyes. “Are we doing one today or both?”

“Uh—both?”

“Let me bring this to your consideration,” Johnny says. “If you can’t go without playing with them, I recommend just doing one at a time. Because once I pierce it, it’s hands off for six months. No touching, no twiddling, no teasing, no twisting, definitely no tasting, I’m talking to you, Ghost—“

“Fuck off.”

“—so if that’s a dealbreaker, I recommend leaving one to play with. Stagger them. Mitigates the loss a little.”

You glance back at Ghost. On the one hand, nipple play is a favorite of yours. On the other hand, if you don’t do both today, you might chicken out and never come back. In the end, you decide: “Let’s start with one and see how I do.” 

“Yer the boss, hen,” Johnny says solemnly. He tears open a tiny package, the bitter scent of antiseptic stinging at your nose. “Any preference on left or right? Do yeh have a favorite?”

“A favorite?” 

He snorts. “Alright—which side do you sleep on?”

You say your left, so he takes the antiseptic wipe to the right breast and warns you with a brief, It’s chilly, before swiping it across your nipple. You hate every moment of it, mostly because the stimulation feels good in a distant, muted way. Teeth gritting, you wait for him to be done, even though he is a consummate professional and going as fast as he can. 

Next he takes one of the toothpicks, dips it in ink, and marks a spot on either side of your nipple where the needle will pierce. It’s more on the areola itself; you can’t decide if that makes it more or less tolerable.

“Go check the placement in the mirror, let me know if you’re level,” says Johnny, tossing away the toothpick. 

You turn to Ghost instead. “Will you be my mirror?” you whisper. 

The corners of his eyes crinkle behind his mask. He beckons you closer with two fingers, and you walk to him on unsteady legs. His hand cups your breast, careful not to touch any part that Johnny has sanitized as he looks you over thoroughly. 

“Perfect,” he mutters, almost like a curse. 

“Hey! No touching!” Johnny calls, crumpling a piece of trash noisily in his fist. He sounds irritated. “Don’t you make me sanitize her again!”

When you and Simon have finished, Johnny adjusts the chair until it is laying flat and helps you up onto it. 

“Normally I freehand most piercings,” he says. “But since this is your first, I’m going to use a hemostat clamp. Looks like this—“ He shows you the device which looks like scissors but with clamps instead of blades, holes strategically placed for the needle to be pushed through. “—and I’ve been told it hurts more than the piercing itself, so be warned.”

“I’m warned,” you whisper weakly. 

“Arm up, over your head lass.” 

He scoots his chair beside you and then gently touches your breast, the latex warm from his body heat. He adjusts the clamp and then grips down tightly, ensuring that the marked spots of ink are within the holes. It does hurt, but not as badly as you imagined. You let out a breath. You can do this. 

“Ready for the needle?”

Yeah, you can’t do this. Your other hand reaches out blindly towards Simon. After a moment, you feel his touch: hand warm and solid where he laces your fingers together awkwardly. Neither of you have had much practice in the way of hand holding—and none at all with each other—but you feel his touch all the way in your toes, and you think that’s a pretty good sign. 

“Make all the sound you want,” Johnny mutters, breath fanning across your outstretched arm. “It helps, trust me. On three. One—“

He pierces you. You suck in a breath through your teeth. “You bastard, that hurt way more than the clamp!”

“Yeah,” says Johnny, guiding the jewelry through your nipple. He looks down at you with a sad, strange smile. “I’m a liar.” 

-

You shower together that night. The shower is small for a man of Simon’s stature. Add you into the mix and it’s positively tiny, but that just means you both have to stand close together, bodies brushing against each other with each movement. He puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you to the spray to let the water run across your sore breast, thumbs kneading at the tense muscles of your shoulder blades. 

You relax back against him, feeling his hard cock against the small of your back. He doesn’t do anything about it, so you don’t either. 

“What’s the verdict?” you ask him. “Do you like it?” 

“Is it important to you that I like it?” he asks, voice rumbling against your back. 

You think. 

“Yes,” you say. 

His hand comes down to ghost over your unpierced breast, cupping it in his huge palm. Your hard nipple rasps against the calluses on his hand making you shiver even in the heat of the shower. He squeezes softly, pulling a sound from the back of your throat that is lost thanks to the roar of the water against the tiles. 

His mouth brushes against your ear, lips damp: “I like it.” 

You twist in his arms, his cock dragging against your slick body, and look up at him. His hair is plastered to his forehead, a shade darker than usual. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

You guide his hand to your hair. “Hold this for me.” 

You slip down onto your knees.

-

How’s the piercing healing? Simon messages you one afternoon. Soap won’t shut up asking me about it. 

Give him my number, you suggest. 

After a lengthy silence, Simon texts: He says he doesn’t want it.

And just what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Maybe it was some weird piercer/client boundary he didn’t want to cross, but Ghost had come across more stringent (in just about every aspect of life) and he had had no problem crossing the tattoo artist/client boundary to text you mock ups of your tattoo. Something in your gut goes sour. Something sows itself in the soil of your heart, something thorny and unpleasant, and you don’t like it one bit. 

It’s fine, you tell him. I’m taking care of it. 

Okay, he says. And that is the end of that. 

-

The next time you see Johnny, it is Simon’s birthday. True to form, he does not make a big fuss of it, though it’s clear that this is the first birthday he has shared with a romantic partner perhaps ever. 

He genuinely seems to appreciate the Bluetooth stencil printer you bought him as a gift (he’d looked at the wrapped present like he didn’t know what to do with it, unwrapped it with the same enthusiasm as a man walking to the gallows, but when he’d seen it, he’d given one of those slow, rare grins; the crooked ones thanks to the scar across his mouth), and you silently congratulated yourself on getting him something practical over something sentimental. 

“The boys want to get together,” he says that afternoon. “I want you to come, too.” 

How could you say no to that? 

So you doll yourself up, wearing your nicest pair of skinny jeans and a sweater to keep away the autumn chill. You are giddy at the thought of meeting Simon’s other friends, so much so that you cleanly overlook Johnny’s hot and cold act. At least there will be others there to act as buffers between the two of you. 

The pub itself is more crowded than Simon would like. He won’t even take his mask off, keeping his back against the wall and eyes on the door. Not for the first time, you wonder if he doesn’t have some sort of PTSD, something leftover from his time in the service. It would make a lot of things make a lot more sense. 

You meet Kyle, who clasps your hand with both of his own, grinning so fetchingly. “Nice to meet you,” he shouts over the sounds of the pub. “Simon’s never brought a woman around before. You must be special.” 

“That means be on your best behavior, Garrick,” Simon says dryly, shifting his mask to sip at a beer—the first you’ve ever seen him drink.

“Yes, sir.” 

John arrives next. He’s older than the others, though there’s not yet any hint of silver in his facial hair. He smiles, eyes twinkling, and shares Kyle’s sentiments. It shouldn’t make you feel as special as it does, knowing that Simon hasn’t brought a woman to meet his friends before. But it does. It means something. The two of you still haven’t discussed exactly what your relationship is, but it seems clear in the eyes of everyone around you, which makes you feel a little more like you’re standing on solid ground. 

Johnny arrives last. His easy grin falters at the sight of you. He slips into the other side of the circular booth beside John and barely greets you, barely even meets your eyes. You don’t shrink, necessarily—you’re aware that you belong here, celebrating Simon, just as much as Johnny does—but you do grow quiet, your arms crossed in your lap, leaning into the warm comfort that Simon’s body beside you provides. 

The group together are downright boisterous. Even Simon comes out of his shell some as the drinks come and go, eventually tugging the mask down to rest beneath his chin. They tell stories that make you laugh, make you tear up, make you cringe, make you groan. It eases some anxious part of your heart to hear these uncensored stories, to learn more about Simon’s past straight from the sources.

It’s clear that their time spent serving together has made a brotherhood of them, and while a small part of you feels estranged as the outsider amongst this group, the larger part thinks it’s beautiful to see. 

Simon deserves this, you think, as the group gets up: some to go to the bathroom, others to the bar, others to smoke. He deserves to be surrounded by people that love him. 

You realize right there in that cracked leather booth of the bar that you are included in that.

 You’re in love with him. 

“Oh God,” you mutter, pressing your hands to your cheeks. Suddenly your head is spinning from the few shots you had shared with the others. Air. You need air. 

Not spying Simon anywhere near the bar, you take your chances of running into him outside and step out of the pub onto the cool street. There is a bitter wind blowing that has you wrapping your arms around your middle, wishing you had worn a jacket over your sweater. Resting your back against the brick wall, you stare up at the moon and think. Nothing has changed between now and five minutes ago, except that now you are a little wiser to your own feelings. A little more aware of how invested you are in this undefined relationship. You don’t need to freak out.

You just need to talk to him and figure out where you both stand with each other. It is the only—

“You followin’ me?” You jerk, startled. Johnny stands there, having come around out of the alley, crushing the remnants of a cigarette beneath his boot. His cheeks are red from the cold, hands jammed deep into his pockets. 

“What? Of course not!” 

“Alright,” he says, his agreement sounding a lot like skepticism. He moves past you toward the pub doors. 

You know that you shouldn’t. You know that for some inexplicable reason, Johnny doesn’t like you, and that you should take this at face value and leave well enough alone. But instead it makes something inside you feel needy and desperate, desperate for this closest friend of Simon’s to like you, desperate to fit it to Simon’s old life. 

“Hey,” you say, catching his wrist. “We should plan my next piercing while you’re here.” 

He visibly shakes off your touch. His eyes look back toward the pub longingly. “Yeah. Look, not much to plan, really, is there? Just let Simon know when you’re ready and he’ll text me.” 

He opens the door. For a moment, the sounds and smells of the pub spill out onto the sidewalk, but then the door shuts and it is quiet and you are alone. 

-

“Johnny doesn’t like me much,” you say to Simon on the way home. You’re driving—three beers in total had managed to make him tipsier than you thought possible for a man of his stature.

He snorts. “Soap loves everybody, and everybody loves Soap.” 

You take your eyes off the road briefly. Simon’s figure is illuminated by a passing streetlamp, turning his silhouette into something gilded where he is slumped over in the passenger seat resting his temple against the cool glass of the window. “I don’t love him,” you say, hoping you don’t overemphasize any certain word. 

Simon looks to you. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face. Not even being drunk affects the intensity of his gaze, the way it penetrates you, turns you see-through. Whatever he sees in your face must not be enough, because his head thuds as it hits the window again. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time that a girl who was supposed to be mine ended up being for Soap.” 

You suck in a breath, heart clenching painfully. Taking one hand off the wheel, you search for his thigh—find his knee and settle for it, stroking softly with your thumb. 

“I’m not Soap’s, baby,” you say. 

“No?” 

You shake your head. 

“Whose are you?” 

“Come on, Simon,” you mutter, face hot. “You already know.” 

“Are you mine?” 

You nod.

“Don’t say it.” 

You blink, glancing over to him. He’s watching you, eyes heavy-lidded and pitch-black in the darkness of the cab. “Why not?” 

“Because I’ll make have to you pull over.” 

-

Instead he makes you wait until he’s inside you, still feeling the rasp of his stubble against your thighs from where he had eaten you out. Then, his hands shaking, he asks you again, Whose are you? just to hear the way you chant over and over again: Yours, Yours, Yours. 

[wooyoungiewritings]

Borrowed Time - Seonghwa x Reader (EPILOGUE)

Summary: It's been a year since you and Seonghwa decided to commit to each other fully. You have a date night, casual teasing as usual, until you accidentally say something that makes Seonghwa doubt himself. Wanting to apologize, you do what you know he'll love. And it's not for the weak ones.

Word count: 11.1K

Genre: Fluff, Rich Seonghwa, SMUT

warnings: Seonghwa with reader (fem pronouns), she accidentally hurts Seonghwa's feelings, our boy is sad and hurt :(, TEASING, Seonghwa is a menace, DOM/SUB Seonghwa, DOM/SUB reader, fingering, oral (fem and male receiving), LOTS of dirtytalk, sex while on the phone (omg yall it's so filthy i'm sorry), creampie, aftercare (<3), lmk if I missed anything!

Authors note: The very last chapter we're gonna get from this story and this Seonghwa.. A little bittersweet because I LOVED writing him and I can tell he's got you all hooked as well. But thank you so much for the support on the story, I can't put into words how thankful I am. I wish you all the best, stay tuned for the next story! <3

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.

It’s been a year since you and Seonghwa officially started your relationship, and so much has changed. The time between you has been full of growth, personally, emotionally, and together as a couple. What started as stolen moments between two people who couldn’t help but be drawn to each other has evolved into something solid and unshakable.

You left your old life behind in more ways than one. The house you once shared with your ex-husband, the memories of your past life, all of it now feels like a distant chapter. With Seonghwa’s quiet, unwavering support, you packed up your things, everything from old photos that no longer held meaning, to the things that represented who you used to be.

Seonghwa helped you move every single item from your old house. He was there for the little things, like when you found the remnants of an old birthday card tucked away in a box, or when you had to call the movers to sort through the mess of broken furniture. Through it all, he remained a constant. His presence was a reassurance, his touch gentle but firm when you needed it.

You moved into his place soon after. His apartment, which already had the warmth of someone who lived there fully, felt like home in an instant.

And yet, the transition hasn’t been without its challenges. Your ex-husband, in the wake of everything, struggled to understand why you had chosen to walk away. Even after the day your ex-husband tried to lash out at Seonghwa and he had pulled a knife. The arguments had been tense, but Seonghwa made you feel safe.

Your ex-husband was charged with assault and carrying a weapon. The legal proceedings have been slow, but it’s clear he’s facing serious consequences for his actions. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but it’s also a relief. You’re no longer tethered to a life that no longer made sense, and Seonghwa’s support through the entire ordeal has been everything you needed.

The candle flickers between you at the restaurant midtown, silverware clinking against plates, low conversations around you filling the silence as you have dinner with the love of your life.

“Wait, did you remember to move the laundry before we left?” you ask, mid-laugh, swirling the wine in your glass as you lean toward him across the table. There’s a tiny smudge of sauce on your plate and soft piano music humming through the air, but all you’re looking at is him.

Seonghwa pauses, fork halfway to his mouth. The guilt flashes across his face immediately. “...I absolutely did not.”

You gasp, faux-offended. “Seonghwa.”

“I got distracted!” he defends quickly, placing his fork down. “You were standing in the hallway wearing that dress and spraying perfume and looking like… like that-, what was I supposed to do? I barely remembered how to speak, let alone handle the laundry.”

You smirk, tilting your head. “So, we’re coming home to damp, probably mildew-scented towels. Again.”

He gives you a sheepish look, reaching for his wine. “I’ll rewash them. I swear. With lavender detergent. Extra soft cycle. Don’t punish me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, I will punish you.”

He coughs into his drink, eyes flicking up to yours with a flicker of heat. “Not sure if that was meant to sound like a threat or a promise, but either way, I’m listening.”

The smile you give him is wicked and slow. “Depends on how the towels smell when we get home.”

He exhales through a breathy laugh, watching you like he’s almost tempted to skip dessert and drag you home right now. His fingers tap idly against the stem of his glass. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You kick his ankle gently beneath the table. “You’re lucky I love you. You’ve ruined three loads of laundry in the last month and tried to blame it on the weather.”

“The weather was humid.”

You roll your eyes, but you're still smiling. His hand slides across the table to brush yours. Warm, calloused fingertips graze your knuckles, lingering. The light from the candles flickers against his jaw, casting shadows that make him look dangerously beautiful.

You intertwine your fingers with his. “Are you working late on Monday?”

Seonghwa’s gaze lifts to meet yours, his thumb still idly stroking along your palm. “No,” he says. “Switched a few things around. I’m all yours.”

You hum softly, your foot sliding slowly up his leg under the table, brushing along the warm skin through his trousers. The slow movement isn’t innocent, you feel it, and so does he. “Good,” you say, lips curving into a sly smile, the kind that hints you’re already miles ahead in your own head.

His eyes narrow just a little, curious. “Why?”

You glance at your wine, then back at him, smirking like you’re keeping a secret. “Because I already know how I want you Monday night.”

His fork freezes halfway to his plate.

“…You can’t just say that to me in public,” he mutters, eyes darkening slightly.

You tilt your head. “But I just did.”

His eyes flicker over your lips, then back up to your eyes, burning with a heat that makes your breath hitch. He raises his glass slowly, taking a measured sip, jaw tightening as if fighting a rising tide of want. The silence stretches, thick and electric.

He watches you over the rim of his glass as he drinks, jaw tight, eyes smoldering. “Tell me.”

You blink, pretending to play innocent. “Tell you what?”

His voice dips lower, more dangerous. “How you want me.”

You lean in just a little closer, your eyes locked on his, shining with that mischievous light he knows too well. The restaurant’s soft lighting brushes over your skin, but all he can focus on is your voice, smooth and casual, like you’re talking about the weather.

“Monday,” you say, slow and deliberate, “I want you to tie me up.”

He nearly chokes on his wine. The glass slips, and he coughs, hand flying to his throat as if trying to catch his breath. His eyes widen, flicking around the restaurant like he’s checking if anyone else heard what you said.

You sit back, innocently biting your lip, pretending to be utterly unaware of the effect you just had.

His fingers tremble slightly as they fumble with the top button of his shirt, loosening it with more force than necessary. He leans back, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to shake off the sudden rush of heat, but his eyes never leave you. “That’s not something you just throw out casually over dinner.

You shrug slowly, biting your lip. “I mean, you can. If you want to.”

He blinks, slow and deliberate, like he’s just recalibrating his thoughts. His usual steady composure flickers for a heartbeat, just a quick flash of surprise, but then he smiles, cool and collected, fingers tightening on the wine glass as if to remind himself who’s in charge.

“You say that like it’s nothing,” he murmurs, voice low, eyes darkening with something sharper now. “But I can see exactly what it does to you… seeing me like this.” His gaze drifts to your lips for a moment before snapping back to your eyes, cutting through your teasing smile.

You bite your lip, slow and deliberate, watching him more than you speak. “Maybe I like seeing you like this,” you say, voice innocent, but the heat behind it is unmistakable.

He chuckles, deep and slow, the kind of sound that promises he’s not about to lose control, no matter how much you push. “Careful,” he warns, leaning closer, his breath brushing your cheek. “You’re tempting me in all the wrong ways, and I’m not sure I’ll play nice Monday.”

You settle into the challenge, your fingers tightening around his hand beneath the table. “Good,” you whisper. “I wouldn’t want anything less.”

The evening ends with sexual tension and laughter still lingering between you two, the kind of easy, effortless laughter that fills the air as you walk down the sidewalk. The night is cool but not too chilly, and Seonghwa’s hand is warm in yours. You chat about nothing in particular, tossing around silly comments and inside jokes. It’s just the two of you, enjoying the simplicity of being together after so much time has passed.

“We need to pick up a few things for the week,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence between you as you step toward a convenience store. “I don’t feel like cooking tomorrow. Maybe just a quick, easy dinner.”

Seonghwa gives a nod of agreement, his smile soft and easy. “I got it,” he says, already heading inside with you. “You just tell me what you need.”

You follow him through the automatic doors, the familiar buzz of the store greeting you with its aisles of snacks, drinks, and everyday essentials as Seonghwa grabs a basket.

He picks up a few things, your favorite tea, the cereal you’ve been eating for months, a couple of random things that seem to just appear in his hands as if he knows what you like before you do. It’s easy, almost like you don’t need to say anything at all, and he just knows what to do.

You can’t help but feel a little guilty. “You always do too much,” you joke, glancing at him as you reach the pasta aisle. “I don’t need all of this. I can do it myself.”

He laughs, a light sound that makes your heart feel full. “I know you can,” he says, but his tone softens slightly. “I just like to take care of you. I want you to feel good at home.”

You stop for a second, glancing at the shelves and picking out a jar of pasta sauce. “Yeah, I know. It’s sweet of you.” You pause, a teasing smile playing at your lips as you turn to him. “But don’t get too comfortable, you know. You’re not the only guy who can win me over.”

You say it offhandedly, your tone light, more as a joke than anything else. But as soon as the words leave your lips, you don’t notice the shift in Seonghwa’s expression. His smile falters for just a second, his eyes clouding over with something that catches him off guard.

He doesn’t even know why it stings so badly. It’s just a joke. A stupid, offhand remark. But suddenly, he’s questioning everything.

He takes a deep breath, his gaze drifting toward the shelves in front of him as he forces a smile, but it’s tight, and it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You’re already moving on, picking up a carton of milk and dropping it into the basket. “So, should we get eggs? I’m kind of craving some scrambled eggs for breakfast tomorrow.”

Seonghwa just nods, quiet, as he grabs a few more things off the shelves, his movements slightly slower now. He keeps his distance, trying to figure out what to say, what to do, but the uncertainty in him is louder than anything else. He’s unsure of how to move forward without feeling like he’s overstepping, unsure if being this sweet, this attentive, has been a mistake all along.

You don’t notice it, but for him, it feels like a reality he’s been dreading, a quiet reminder that no matter how much he tries to be perfect, no matter how much effort he pours into showing you he’s there for you, there’s always the possibility that you might slip away.

You push open the door to the convenience store with your hip, arms full of snacks, grinning as Seonghwa keeps it open for you without a word. The cool night air hits your skin, and you shiver slightly as you step out under the glow of the parking lot lights.

“I swear, we went in for two things and came out with enough for a sleepover party,” you say, adjusting the bags in your arms. 

You glance at him, expecting a grin, maybe a sarcastic comment, but his face is neutral, lips drawn into a soft line, eyes focused on the pavement as you walk to the car.

The ride back is quiet. You talk most of the way, telling him about a trailer you saw earlier for a movie you want to watch, asking him about the weekend. He gives short answers. There’s no more teasing tonight. No warmth in his voice. But you’re still caught up in your own good mood, not quite catching on.

When you pull up to the apartment, he takes the bags without a word. You thank him, distracted, already going on about what movie you might watch while unpacking things in the kitchen.

He helps, silently passing things to you or putting them away himself. No jokes. No small touches. Just a quiet presence.

At one point, you bump into him while reaching for the fridge handle. He steps back quickly, avoiding the usual playful contact.

You don’t think about it. You’re already talking about something else.

Later, when you crawl into bed and call out to him to hurry up, he just murmurs, “Coming,” from the bathroom.

He slides in beside you a few minutes later, settling stiffly on his side of the bed. His arm is warm when it wraps around you, but there’s hesitation in the way he holds you, like he’s not sure he should.

You let out a happy sigh, burying your face in his chest. “I love nights like this.”

He smiles, but you don’t see that it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Me too.”

But inside, your words still echo.

“Don’t get too comfortable. You’re not the only guy who can win me over.”

You’d said it like a joke. Something flippant. Light. But it hadn’t landed that way.

Not to him.

Because he was comfortable. Not with the idea of being safe, but with you. Because he didn’t think of this as temporary. Because he'd been trying so hard to be everything you needed.

And maybe that was the mistake.

He stares at the ceiling long after your breathing slows. He wonders if he’s been too much. Or maybe not enough. 

He closes his eyes, and holds you tighter anyway.

***

The apartment is quiet when you wake. The warm morning light spills through the curtains, soft and golden, but it does nothing to soothe the weight in your chest. You turn over expecting to find Seonghwa asleep, but he’s already up, sitting at the edge of the bed, shirtless, hunched slightly, hands resting on his thighs.

You blink the sleep from your eyes, sitting up slowly. “You okay?”

He turns with a small smile, one that barely brushes his lips. “Yeah. Just couldn’t sleep much.”

There’s something distant about him. You watch as he pulls on a hoodie, movements slower than usual, like his body is weighed down by something heavier than tiredness.

You hesitate. “You sure you’re okay?”

He nods, still avoiding your eyes. “Do you want coffee? I was about to make some.”

You climb out of bed, following him to the kitchen. He doesn’t reach for your hand like he usually does. He doesn’t tease you about being a sleepyhead or offer you the first cup like he always does without fail. Instead, he pours two mugs silently, sliding one across the counter to you without looking up.

“Thanks,” you say softly. He just nods.

Something’s off. Really off.

“Are we okay?” you ask quietly.

There’s a pause. Just a breath too long.

“Of course,” he says gently. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

You look into his eyes with worry, brows furrowing. “Because you’re acting weird.”

“I’m not.” He smiles again, but it’s too quick. Too practiced. He leans against the counter and sips his coffee, eyes down. You study him for a long moment.

“Seonghwa.”

He exhales through his nose, gaze dropping to his coffee. “I don't want to make a big deal out of it.”

“Out of what?”

He hesitates, then shakes his head. “Nothing. Seriously. Let’s not-”

“No,” you cut in, your voice soft but steady. “You always tell me to be honest with you. That I don’t have to pretend I’m okay when I’m not.”

That stops him. His eyes lift to yours. For a second, they just search your face, like he’s trying to gauge how much to say. Whether it’s worth the risk.

Then something gives. A crack in the surface.

“…Right,” he murmurs, voice quiet.

“So…” you continue gently. “Can’t you do the same with me?”

His jaw tenses a little, he looks like he’s thinking through every possible way to respond. His lips press together, and he exhales through his nose like he’s been holding it in all night. He sets the cup down slowly. Then finally, he speaks.

“That thing you said last night,” he says. “About me not being the only guy who can win you over.”

You feel the air still. Your heart dips.

He gives a soft, humorless chuckle, but there’s no real amusement in it. “I know it was a joke. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“But it hurt,” you say.

He nods slowly. “Yeah. It did.”

You wait, quietly.

“I know it was a joke,” he says, finally meeting your eyes. “But I’ve been trying so hard to be good for you. I don’t expect anything back. I just… I want to be the person who makes you feel safe. Loved. Like you’re not alone. And hearing that…” He pauses again, swallowing thickly. “It felt like none of it mattered. Like it could be anyone. Like I could lose you just like that.”

He lets out a breath, voice more fragile now. “And it made me wonder if I’ve been doing too much. If I’m just overwhelming you.”

“No, Seonghwa-” you begin, but he gently raises a hand.

“I know you didn’t mean it that way,” he says quickly, softer this time. “But I need you to know that I’m not trying to be some perfect boyfriend. I just want to be someone you don’t want to leave.”

You don’t speak, your chest is too tight.

“I spent the night wondering if I’m just… trying too hard.” he took a deep breath. “I thought maybe if I did everything right, I wouldn’t have to worry,” he says, his tone finally beginning to crack. “But when you said that, when you laughed and told me not to get too comfortable, it was like… I don’t know. Like I could do everything right and it still wouldn’t be enough. That maybe I am too comfortable.”

Your chest tightens.

“That’s my worst nightmare. That I’m doing everything I can and I’d still lose you. And I can't lose you again.”

You step closer, cupping his cheek. He leans into the touch instinctively, eyes closing for a moment.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean it. I never wanted to hurt you. I was careless with my words, and I’m so sorry. You do so much for me, more than I deserve, honestly. I’m grateful every day that you’re here.”

His eyes finally meet yours, and for the first time since yesterday, you see the mask drop completely. The hurt. The quiet fear beneath the surface. Like something delicate in him has cracked open.

He gives a slow nod as he closes his eyes briefly, jaw working as if holding back something. “You don’t have to say that. I know. I see it too.” 

You smile softly, the corners of your lips lifting with genuine warmth. “I want you to know, I see everything you do. And I see you. I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to prove yourself to me. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He opens his eyes, shimmering with something tender and real. Then, with a small, almost shy smile, he cups your face and pulls you into a kiss, Slow, deep, full of all the unspoken words between you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper against his lips. Stroking your thumb along his cheek.

“I know,” he murmurs, voice raw.

Then his hands find your waist again, sliding gently over your sides, grounding himself in your warmth. He leans in, pressing his lips to yours again, not rushed, not needy, just full of quiet emotion. A kiss that says we’re okay.

You melt into him, arms winding around his shoulders as his fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. He kisses you again, and again, soft and slow, like he can’t get enough of you. Like he’s memorizing the way you feel, the way you taste when it’s safe again between you.

When you pull back just enough to breathe, your noses bump and you both laugh under your breath, forehead to forehead. His thumb brushes beneath your jaw as he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your forehead.

Then you feel his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in as he breathes you in like he needs it, like he missed this even in the smallest absence.

You smile again, a little crooked now, brushing your nose against his. “Can we go make breakfast now? I want to pretend this morning started in the kitchen. Not me being an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” He laughs, low and genuine, kissing your forehead. “Maybe a little,” he teases gently. “But you’re my idiot.”

You smile, cheeks flushed, and slide your arms around his neck. “So… should we start the day over?”

He grins, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

Fingers laced, hearts lighter, you head further into the kitchen together, ready to begin the morning again, this time side by side.

You start pulling ingredients from the fridge, working in easy rhythm together. He’s in charge of eggs, and you handle the toast and coffee. Every time he passes behind you, his hand brushes along your lower back or waist, and you steal a kiss on his cheek each time he reaches for something near you. It’s sweet, almost ridiculous, like you’re teenagers in love for the first time, unable to keep your hands to yourselves.

You’re standing at the counter spreading butter when your phone buzzes in your hoodie pocket.

You pull it out lazily. The name on the screen makes your stomach twist.

Ex-husband Can we talk? Please. I just want to see you. 

The sight of his name alone used to wreck you, stir up all the confusion and pain. But now… now it just feels distant. Faint. You stare at the screen for a second, lips parting in surprise. Not because it’s unexpected, he’s been sending messages like this every few months, but because of how numb you feel reading it now.

Your eyes drift to Seonghwa. He’s by the stove, sleeves pushed up, brow furrowed slightly as he cracks an egg with one hand, effortlessly graceful even in a hoodie and sweats. He glances over and smiles at you, the kind of smile that says you’re his favorite part of the morning.

Something swells in your chest. You lock your phone without replying and leave it on the counter. 

Then, quietly, you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist.

He freezes for half a second, then leans back into you with a breathy little laugh. “Again?”

“Mhm,” you mumble into the fabric of his hoodie. “Can’t help it.”

Your hands slide up under the hem of his hoodie and find the bare skin of his stomach, soft at first, then slowly tracing over firm muscle with featherlight fingers. 

“I love you,” you whisper.

His breath hitches. “I love you too but,” then, low and warm: “you need to be careful.”

You bite back a grin and slowly release him, stepping away like nothing happened. “Sorry,” you sing innocently, moving back to your toast.

He watches you out of the corner of his eye, a smirk pulling at his lips as he stirs the eggs. But you act like you didn’t just get a reaction out of him. Like you didn’t just wake something up.

He chuckles, but then pauses when you lean over the counter just a bit too far, the curve of your body on full display. Your hoodie rides up just enough to tease his imagination, and your little satisfied sigh as you sip your coffee doesn’t help.

Even with the tension rising between you, there’s something light and beautiful in the air. You steal bites from each other’s plates, wipe crumbs off each other’s lips, laugh too loudly when you burn the first toast. You kiss over the coffee pot. 

It’s not dramatic or extravagant, but it’s everything.

The quiet gratitude that you don’t have to wish for love anymore. You’re living it.

The rest of the morning flows in that slow, perfect rhythm. Dishes done together, sunlight spilling through the windows, occasional kisses stolen in the hallway. It’s one of those quiet days that doesn’t need a plan. No errands. No meetings. Just two people wrapped up in each other, moving through the softness of a lazy Sunday.

By early afternoon, Seonghwa is curled up on the couch, legs stretched out, one arm draped along the backrest. He’s wearing gray sweatpants and an old black tee, barefoot, hair a little messy from your fingers running through it earlier. His phone rests beside him, untouched. Some documentary plays in the background, but he isn’t really watching it. He’s just… existing. Content.

You peek around the corner from the hallway, heart fluttering as you tighten the belt on your robe. You come padding into the room, soft steps on the hardwood floor. He glances up casually at first, then does a double take.

You’re wrapped in your short silkrobe, cinched tight at the waist, hair still slightly damp from the shower, skin soft and glowing. Something about the way you carry yourself is different. Intentional. A quiet tension hums beneath your slow approach, and it draws him in immediately.

He’s watching you too closely now, sensing something in the air.

“Hey,” you murmur, stopping a few feet from where he sits.

“Hey,” he says back, voice a little rougher now. “You okay?”

You nod, gaze flickering down as you toy with the edge of your sleeve. “I was just… thinking about last night again.”

His brows pull together slightly. “You don’t have to keep thinking about that. We talked-”

“I know,” you say quickly. “I know we did. And I know you said it’s okay. But I still feel bad.”

​​He tilts his head, eyes narrowing just a touch as he studies you. “You don’t need to. Really.”

You take another slow step forward, the robe shifting slightly with your movement. His eyes follow the delicate sway of fabric, the way it clings and parts at your legs just enough to hint at what’s underneath.

“But I want you to know,,” you say, eyes flickering to his and away again. “That I really hate that I said something that made you feel like I didn’t love you enough. Or that you weren’t enough. You are. You’re… everything to me.”

He blinks, caught off guard by the sincerity in your voice. His throat bobs as he swallows, caught off guard by how soft your voice is. How close you’re getting. How goddamn breathtaking you look under this lazy afternoon light, skin glowing, lashes casting shadows, mouth pink and nervous.

You take another step, and he shifts a little on the couch, legs parting instinctively as you drift closer into the space between them. You’re not touching him, not yet, but the tension is a livewire stretched between you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes meeting his. “I’m really sorry.”

He blinks slowly. “You’ve said that like… four times now.”

You smile, just barely, lashes lowering. “I know. I just need you to understand how much I mean it.”

“Mmhm,” he hums suspiciously. “And this doesn’t feel at all like the start of something else?”

You widen your eyes innocently. “Like what?”

His gaze drops to where your robe has shifted slightly, just the faintest hint of something darker, softer, underneath. Not skin, not yet, but something lacy and out of place for a lazy Sunday.

Your smile grows, sweet, cheeky, utterly full of mischief. The robe shifts again as you step even closer, until you’re right in front of him, standing between his legs, barely breathing. You pull at the belt just slightly, just enough that it loosens at your waist.

“I just want to say sorry properly,” you murmur, the robe loosening, parting just slightly at the top to reveal a delicate strap against your shoulder. “That’s all.”

“Uh huh,” he says, dry but breathless, leaning back into the couch like he’s trying to maintain some sort of composure. “Just a pure, heartfelt apology?”

“Exactly. Nothing more.”

His gaze flickers over you, jaw slackening as more and more of the robe shifts, revealing the delicate curve of your waist, the high cut of the lingerie hugging your hips, the way the lace kisses your skin in all the places he loves most.

You drop the robe entirely, letting it slide off your shoulders and down your arms in one fluid, quiet movement.

His mouth opens, but no words come out. He’s completely paralyzed, unable to form anything coherent, his eyes glued to you, his gaze scanning the curve of your body like he’s memorizing every detail.

You’re standing above him in the most stunning set of black lingerie he’s ever seen, something sheer, something lace, something you bought weeks ago but never wore. You’d told yourself it had to be the right time. Something meaningful. Not just lust, but love. Trust. A real connection.

And today,  after the talk, the honesty, the sweetness. Today feels like that day.

But it’s not just the outfit. It’s you. The confidence in your posture, the softness in your expression, the way you look at him like he’s the only thing that matters. 

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing underneath your fingertips.

His hands twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t dare touch you, not yet. Not until you allow it.

You lean forward, just enough for him to feel your breath ghosting across his skin. His eyes flutter, and you smirk, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him. You move your lips closer to his neck, brushing softly at first, testing the waters. You pull his hair gently, just enough to tilt his head back. Your lips trail lower, over his pulse, down to his collarbone, leaving light, lingering kisses.

Seonghwa’s body tenses with every touch, his hands curling into fists beside him. His lips part again, but it’s still only a soundless gasp.

"Seonghwa..." you whisper, your hands sliding down his body, fingers tracing the muscles under his shirt, teasing him with just enough contact to drive him crazy. You look up at him, your eyes glimmering with mischief as you drag your fingertips along his abs, taking your time.

He’s shaking, his breath coming in uneven pants now, but still, he can’t speak. He doesn’t know how to. There’s nothing to describe how beautiful you are, nothing he can say to capture how stunning, how perfect you look standing before him, so in control.

One thing you’ve learned about Seonghwa this year is how he adores when you take control. When you take the lead, tell him what to do, all while behaving so innocent. It weakens him and you love it.

And when you reach the hem of his shirt, he finally mutters something close to a whisper, his voice thick with need. 

Your heart races as you drop down onto your knees, placing yourself between his legs. He doesn’t move, his eyes wide, drinking in the sight of you. You gaze up at him through your lashes, your hands resting lightly on his thighs. There’s a playful glint in your eyes, one that tells him exactly what you're about to do.

“Seonghwa,” you murmur softly, still looking up at him, “I don’t want to make you feel like you're not enough,” you continue, your voice sweet but layered with something deeper now, something he can’t ignore. “I feel so bad for saying what I did.”

You let your hands slide up his thighs slowly, the touch light and teasing. He’s growing noticeably harder under your touch, his body betraying him, but he’s still silent, completely at your mercy. You smile softly, knowing the effect you’re having on him.

“Do you know what it does to me… watching you try so hard to take care of me?” you ask, voice airy, adoring. Your fingers moving higher now, brushing gently against his waistband. You let the edge of your fingers trace the fabric, feeling him react to every light touch. “How strong you are? How patient?”

Seonghwa swallows, the tension in his jaw obvious. “Y/N,” he manages, but his voice is shaky, low. “What are you doing?”

You look up at him, your expression innocent, yet full of mischief. “I’m just trying to apologize properly,” you reply, voice sweet and slow. “Don’t you want me to make it up to you?”

His mouth opens, but no words come out. He’s breathless, completely caught in the spell you’ve woven around him.

You give him a playful, teasing smile as your fingers tease the waistband of his sweats. 

Seonghwa's eyes flicker between your face and your hands, watching your every movement as you tease him. 

You finally slide your fingers under the waistband of his sweats, your touch just light enough to make his body tense. Slowly, you begin to touch him, gently, at first, just over the fabric, and he inhales sharply, caught between breath and moan.

“Does that feel good?” you ask innocently, your voice sweet, but there’s no hiding the teasing tone. 

His chest heaves with another shaky breath, and he finally speaks, though his voice is hoarse and strained. “Y/N… you’re killing me…”

You don’t stop, your hand moves lower, wrapping around him just slightly through the fabric, feeling the full length of him, the heat of his skin through the material. He groans softly, his eyes closing for a moment as his grip tightens on the couch.

“I love you,” you murmur softly, voice tender but with a hint of playful fire. “You’re the strongest, most incredible man I’ve ever known. You make me feel safe, loved... like I’m the most important thing in the world to you.”

He swallows hard, jaw tight, eyes dark and fixed on you like you’re the only thing that matters. He’s completely under your spell now.

Your nails skim lightly beneath the elastic, just enough to make his breath catch again. You glance up at him through your lashes, lips barely parted.

“Still okay?” you ask sweetly, voice soft and full of false innocence.

He swallows hard, then gives a weak, breathless nod. “Y-Yeah,” he manages.

You hum approvingly and begin to ease his sweats down slowly, your fingers careful and unhurried. He lifts his hips just slightly to help, and you smile at his obedience. The fabric drags over his skin until the waistband of his briefs is exposed, then those too, bit by bit, revealing the unmistakable evidence of how much he’s aching for you.

He’s fully hard now, flushed and heavy, resting against his stomach. You pause for a moment, eyes fixed on him, before looking up to meet his gaze again. He’s watching you like he’s dreaming, his lips parted, chest rising with shallow breaths.

“You’re so quiet,” you whisper, teasing. “No words for me?”

He tries, but nothing comes out. Just a soft, guttural sound in the back of his throat as you lean in, breath ghosting over his skin.

You place a single kiss just above his hipbone, your hands spreading over his thighs, holding him still. Then another kiss, lower this time, close enough that his body jerks ever so slightly.

You run your fingers along the inside of his thigh, nails grazing delicately as you keep your eyes on him. “You’re incredible,” you murmur, your voice rich and low, “So strong, patient, and completely perfect.”

His hand twitches against the cushion, and he exhales sharply.

“You always make me feel so good,” you go on, brushing your lips over his lower stomach, so soft it’s barely contact. “And now it’s your turn.”

You trail your fingers to the base of his length, light and slow, and he groans, finally breaking the silence.

“Please…” he whispers.

You smile. “Please, what?”

His eyes meet yours, dark, dazed, desperate. “Just… please.”

You press one more kiss to the base of him, just above where your hand rests. Then your lips part, and you finally take him in your mouth, just the tip, warm and slow, and his head falls back against the couch with a quiet, broken sound.

You hollow your cheeks slightly, tongue teasing the underside as you start to move. Soft, steady, deliberate.

He’s unraveling already, hips twitching beneath your hold, one hand leaving the couch to bury itself in your hair. But even then, he doesn’t push or guide, he just holds, grounding himself.

You pull back just enough to speak, your voice low and sultry. “Do you want to touch me?”

His eyes darken with need, flickering between your face and your body. His breath hitches, voice rough and eager. “Please… can I?”

You smile, slow and knowing. “Not yet.”

His hand twitches in the air, hesitant, like he’s begging for permission, utterly captivated by your control.

With a playful gleam, you reach for the thin rope from your robe, twisting it between your fingers. Before he can protest, you loop the soft fabric around his wrists, knotting them together gently but firmly. His breath catches, a mix of surprise and thrill sparking in his eyes.

You smile, satisfied, and then take him in deeper this time, tongue curling, hand stroking what you don’t fit. He groans again, louder now, the sound raw and unfiltered. His hands tied tightly, leaving him utterly helpless. All he can do now is watch you, eyes wide, breath hitching.

You’ve got him exactly where you want him, breathless, speechless, and completely at your mercy.

And the best part is: you’re just getting started.

“Say something,” you purr, kissing the sensitive tip again, tongue flicking out ever so lightly. “Or are you already too far gone?”

He tightens what little grip he has, hands bound, clutching at the air, then shakes his head as if trying to clear the fog.

“I-, fuck-,” he rasps, voice low and hoarse. “You’re… unbelievable.”

You giggle sweetly, like it’s the most innocent thing in the world, dragging your tongue slowly along the underside of him in a long, languid lick that makes his hips jerk and a choked moan escape his throat.

“Mm. You liked that,” you say smugly, then take him back into your mouth, a little deeper this time, slow and warm and deliberate.

You pull off with a soft pop, saliva connecting your lips to his skin for just a moment before you lick it away, hand replacing where your mouth was, stroking him in that perfect rhythm that makes his head fall back with a desperate groan.

“You’re shaking,” you tease gently, voice full of amusement. “Is that for me?”

He barely nods, swallowing hard. “Y-yeah. You-, fuck, Y/N, you’re gonna kill me.”

You pout mockingly. “Awh, I know you can take it.”

He lets out a broken laugh, half-disbelief, half-plea, and you grin, proud of yourself.

“I’m here to take care of you,” you say sweetly, licking the tip again, giving him one slow stroke from base to tip. “You know you’re doing so well, don’t you?”

His voice is barely there now. “Yes… I try.”

You pull back, breath warm against his skin, eyes sparkling.

“Good,” you whisper. “Because I’m not stopping until I say so.”

Your mouth returns to him, slow and hot and wet, and this time, you suck just a little harder, swirl your tongue in just the right spot, and the noise he makes? It’s ruined. Absolutely ruined.

His breath is ragged now, chest rising and falling like he just ran miles, tied hands clenched into fists, thighs trembling under your touch. Every time your mouth pulls off him, he lets out the softest sound of frustration, like it’s physically painful to be denied.

And you love it.

You press a soft kiss to the inside of his thigh, then lick slowly back up to his hip.

“Y/N-” he groans, his voice cracking around your name.

You glance up at him, lips glistening, cheeks flushed. “Hmm?”

His eyes are wrecked, pleading, helpless, needy. “I’m-, fuck, I’m close. Can I-...”

You give him one more long stroke, slow and tight, then let go completely, hands sliding back up his trembling thighs instead.

“Can you what?” you ask sweetly, feigning innocence even as your eyes gleam with control.

He swallows hard. “Can I… can I cum?”

You tilt your head, pretend to think about it, even as your hands press into his thighs to spread him a little wider between your knees.

“I don’t know…” you murmur, lips curving. “Do you want to?”

“Yes,” he breathes out instantly, no hesitation, no shame. “Please.”

You trail one hand up his stomach, nails scraping lightly over his skin under his shirt, just to feel the shudder it sends through him. Then you lean up, mouth at his ear.

“But wouldn’t it feel better,” you whisper slowly, “if you came inside me instead?”

He practically whimpers.

You pull back, just enough to see the complete desperation in his eyes, the flush in his cheeks, the way he’s barely holding himself together.

“Do you want that, baby?” you ask gently, your thumb brushing over the head of his cock, making him jolt. “Want to be inside me?”

“Yes-, fuck, yes, please.”

You smile, satisfied. Then, your hands move to the rope binding his wrists, fingers working carefully to loosen the knot. His eyes widen, breath hitching as you free him, letting his hands fall to your skin.

Then you pull back just enough to meet his eyes and murmur:

“Then take me.”

And in the next instant, he moves.

His arms shoot around you, strong and sudden, standing with you in one smooth motion as if he doesn’t even feel the weight. He’s carrying you before you can blink, mouth crashing to yours like he’s starving.

You laugh into the kiss, breathless, triumphant, dizzy with how much he wants you.

He’s hard. So hard, the outline of him straining against his sweats still burned into your vision, and now it presses hot against your thigh as he carries you. His jaw is clenched, breath shallow, like he’s using every ounce of strength to not lose it completely.

By the time he reaches the bed, he’s trembling.

But even now, even now, he sets you down with care. Like you’re too precious to just drop. Like he worships the very feel of you.

His eyes flick over your body, dressed in lingerie, glazed with hunger and awe.

You shift onto your elbows, spread your legs just a little more, watching the way he swallows hard, so hard it looks like it hurts.

“Cat got your tongue?” you tease, voice syrupy sweet.

He exhales shakily, running a hand down his face. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Oh, I think I do,” you purr, trailing one finger down your stomach. “You’ve been so good, baby. Letting me tease you. Beg. You were gonna come just from my hand, weren’t you?”

He groans, like the memory physically pains him.

You crook your finger at him, eyes heavy with heat. “Come here. Let me feel how badly you want me.”

He moves like a man possessed, kneeling on the bed, hands already reaching, but he doesn’t dare touch until you nod.

Only then does he slide a hand up your thigh, mouth parted like he can’t believe this is real.

“I want to make you feel good too,” he breathes. “Let me. Please.”

You smile, fingers threading into his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him moan.

“Then make me feel it.” you whisper.

He moves without hesitation.

One second he’s on his knees, eyes locked to yours like he’s praying, and the next, he’s lowering himself between your thighs with a reverence that makes your breath catch.

His shirt is off in a second, his hands slide under your thighs and pull you closer to the edge of the bed, lips grazing the soft skin there as his breath shudders out of him.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers like it’s hurting him, tugging your panties down as he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing.

You rest back on your elbows, heart hammering in your chest as you watch him kiss up the inside of your thigh. 

He dives in slow, teasing at first, tongue sliding between your folds like he’s savoring every inch, every sound you make. His hands are firm on your hips, keeping you exactly where he wants you, but it’s not about control, it’s about devotion.

He moans softly the first time he tastes you fully, and the vibration sends a jolt through your spine. You reach down, fingers weaving into his hair, and tug just a little, guiding him, grounding yourself.

“Right there,” you gasp, and he groans again, like your pleasure is his reward.

He flattens his tongue, licking deep and slow, then flicks it exactly where he knows you need it. He’s relentless, not rough, not rushed, just overwhelming in how thoroughly he focuses on you. Like you’re the only thing that exists in his world right now.

Your thighs tremble, your back arches, and you feel the first wave of heat beginning to build, steady and sharp, curling low in your belly.

And Seonghwa knows.

“Already?” he murmurs against your skin, lips glistening. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, voice breaking.

He doesn’t. If anything, he doubles down, lips wrapping around your clit as he sucks just enough to make your legs start to shake. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you still, and when your hips buck, he lets out a deep groan that goes straight through you.

You’re teetering on the edge, eyes squeezed shut, breathing shallow.

Then you feel his hand leave your thigh, only for a second, before a single long finger slides inside you, slow, deep.

You cry out.

His mouth doesn’t stop moving.

“Come for me,” he whispers, voice wrecked and reverent. “Come on, baby. Let me feel it.”

And with one more deep flick of his tongue and a curl of his finger, you fall apart for him, back arching, fingers fisting in his hair, legs clamping around his shoulders as your orgasm crashes through you.

But even then, he doesn’t stop.

He licks you through it, eyes fluttering closed like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

Only when your hips twitch, too sensitive to take any more, does he finally pull back, panting, lips swollen, chin wet with you.

He looks up at you, completely gone.

“Can I have you now?” he whispers, voice rough and full of need.

Seonghwa leans in, his lips brushing over your collarbone as he kisses his way to your neck. His hand slides down, finally reaching the waistband of his sweats. 

“I want you, Y/N,” he murmurs against your skin, and before you can respond, he’s pulling down his sweats, his cock springing free, fully hard and pressing against your inner thigh.

His eyes don’t leave yours, blazing with hunger, a slow burn that sears through you. He leans over you, pushing you back into the sheets, his weight settling between your legs, strong thighs caging you in. He takes your wrists in his hands, pinning them gently above your head.

And then, to your surprise, you hear a familiar sound.

A soft pull of fabric. The faint slide of a knot being tightened.

Your breath catches as you realize what he’s done.

He brought the rope.

The same one you used on him earlier.

You hadn’t noticed, hadn’t seen when he grabbed it, but now it’s there, looped around your wrists as he secures it snugly, expertly, like he’d been waiting for this moment.

Your wrists press together above your head, bound tightly to each other. Not painfully. But firmly. Completely.

Your eyes flick up to meet his, wide with surprise and heat, and his expression is dark with satisfaction.

“You didn’t think I’d let that little stunt go unanswered, did you?” he says, voice low and dangerous, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “You tied me up and made me beg.”

He dips his head, kissing you slowly, deeply, until you’re breathless beneath him.

“Now it’s my turn.”

You whimper against his mouth, hips rising instinctively to meet his, but he pins you down with one strong hand on your thigh, not allowing you even that much freedom.

“I said no more teasing,” he growls softly. “You’re going to feel me, Y/N, every inch of me, and you’re not going to move until I say so.”

His words are devastating. Delicious.

But he’s doing it for you. Because you asked. Because he remembers everything you said.

And because, right now, he wants nothing more than to make you come completely undone.

His words make your pulse race, but there's something else, a deep trust in him, the way he makes you feel safe while still pushing you to the edge.

You feel him shift, one hand moving between your legs to line himself up with your entrance. The anticipation is unbearable, the air thick with tension.

But just as the thick head of his cock begins to press into you, slow and deliberate, he stills.

“Tell me you want this,” he demands, his voice quiet but firm, his eyes locked on yours.

Your wrists tug instinctively at the rope above your head, bound tightly and useless now. You’re completely at his mercy, and he knows it. “I want you,” you whisper.

And that’s all he needs.

With a powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, filling you in one smooth, possessive motion. The sudden fullness knocks the air from your lungs, a soft gasp spilling from your lips as your body arches beneath him.

He doesn’t hesitate. He starts to move, slow at first, purposeful, but it builds fast, his hips snapping harder, deeper, each stroke more intense than the last. His hands leave your thighs only to clutch at your hips, dragging you down onto him with every thrust, like he’s trying to pull you even closer, like he needs to feel you everywhere.

Your wrists are tied together in front of you, still flushed and trembling from how he bound them, and now they’re pressed against your chest as he pounds into you with maddening control.

“You feel that?” he growls into your ear, teeth grazing your jaw. “Every inch of me inside you, just like I said.”

You nod helplessly, unable to do more than moan and cling to the sheets with your bound hands, the rope tight and biting into your skin in the most perfect way.

But then, your phone rings.

His gaze shifts to the nightstand, where your phone buzzes insistently.

But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow down. If anything, he grins, that wicked, knowing smirk spreading across his lips like he’s been waiting for this.

Seonghwa leans over, eyes glinting with mischief, and grabs it. Glances at the screen.

“Well, well…” he hums. “Look who wants your attention.”

He smirks. Looks down at you, flushed and wrecked beneath him, helpless in the knots he tied.

“It’s your ex-husband,” he murmurs, his voice dark and teasing, still thrusting into you like he owns the moment. “Answer it.”

He holds the phone above you, just out of reach, taunting. His pace doesn’t slow, not even a little. And the look in his eyes?

It says you’re his now.

Your body goes rigid as the phone keeps ringing, your heart pounding, your breath hitching, but the last thing you want is to speak to him. Especially now. Especially like this.

Your bound hands tremble as you take the phone from him, just barely able to clutch it between your fingers. You hesitate for half a second, but one dark look from Seonghwa, one slow roll of his hips that makes your eyes roll back, and you obey.

You barely manage to slide your thumb across the screen to accept the call, your voice a whisper as the line opens. “H-Hello?”

Seonghwa doesn’t pause. He fucks you through the word, drawing out the breath at the end of it, making your voice shake in a way you know your ex will hear.

He watches you with a crooked smirk, fucking into you slowly now, deliberately, dragging it out, because he wants you squirming, wants to see how long you can keep your voice steady.

“Y/N?” your ex’s voice crackles through. “You sound… are you okay? I’ve been calling-”

“I’m f-fine,” you manage to breathe, fighting to keep your tone level, even as Seonghwa shifts his angle and thrusts up hard, sending a bolt of pleasure straight through your spine.

Seonghwa’s smirk deepens, his thumb brushing over your clit in slow, lazy circles that nearly make you cry out. “Tell him you’re better than fine,” he whispers against your jaw, his breath hot and cruel. “Tell him you’ve never felt better.”

You bite your lip hard.

“I’m just… busy,” you murmur into the phone, your voice breaking as your hips jerk from the next thrust.

Seonghwa chuckles darkly against your ear, his breath hot as his lips graze your skin.

“Busy,” he echoes under his breath, and then drives into you again, harder. “That’s one way to put it.”

Seonghwa’s tongue drags up the side of your neck, slow and possessive. “Hold the phone still, sweetheart. Let him hear how happy you sound.”

You try, god, you try, but your hands are shaking, wrists straining against the rope, voice catching with every deep thrust he gives you.

You don’t even hear your ex-husband’s voice clearly anymore, everything fading into the background as Seonghwa takes you to the edge. 

He grins, knowing you won’t be able to speak much longer, that the pleasure will soon take over completely.

“Such a good girl,” Seonghwa murmurs, voice thick with lust. “Answering your ex like this with my cock buried inside you… God, look at you.”

You’re barely holding on, your bound hands wobbling as the phone threatens to slip from your grasp. Seonghwa notices, of course he does, and with a soft laugh, he plucks it from your fingers effortlessly.

He leans back for a moment, letting you feel every inch of his length as he pulls out slowly, teasing. His cock glistens in the low light, and he doesn’t break eye contact as he brings the phone to his ear.

Your chest rises and falls quickly, your whole body aching from the edge he keeps dragging you along.

Seonghwa tilts his head slightly, listening to your ex's voice, panicked and confused, on the other end.

Then he smiles. That smile.

He leans down, his lips brushing your ear, and his voice is just loud enough for you to hear over the pounding in your chest.

“You’re not really interested in hearing this, are you?” he whispers, his tone amused, taunting.

And then, with an audible smirk in his voice, he leans back again and speaks into the phone.

“You know, buddy,” he drawls lazily, thrusting back into you with just enough force to make you gasp, “we’re kind of in the middle of something.”

“Wait-, what? Is this—Seonghwa?” your ex stammers. “What the fuck is going on? I just want to talk. I’m still—”

Your cheeks burn, humiliation and arousal tangling into something electric, something dangerous. Your bound hands twitch, instinctively trying to reach for the phone, but Seonghwa catches your wrists easily, wrapping his fingers around them like it’s nothing.

He pauses, hips grinding into you, his cock hitting that spot that makes you cry out. His grin widens as he watches the sound punch out of your chest.

“She’s not really available right now,” he says into the phone, voice thick with satisfaction. “But don’t worry. I’m taking good care of her.”

Your ex’s voice spikes in frustration. “What the fuck are you doing with her?!”

Seonghwa laughs softly, clearly enjoying this. “Well, that’s none of your business. Excuse us.”

And then, casually, like it means nothing to him, he taps the speaker button and tosses the phone onto the mattress beside your head.

Then he fucks you harder, brutal, relentless. The rhythm, the pressure, the humiliation of your ex’s voice being drowned out by the filthy sounds of your pleasure, your moans echoing through the room. Seonghwa’s hand tightens around your wrists, keeping you grounded, keeping you his, as he drives you closer to the edge.

You try to hold it back, but it’s useless.

Every inch of you is trembling, raw and exposed, as you finally let go, the orgasm tearing through your body in an overwhelming wave that makes your vision blur.

It’s like everything else disappears.

The only thing you can feel is him.

You’re a breathless mess beneath him, barely holding it together, your body trembling. But Seonghwa isn’t finished. He grabs the phone again with a smirk when he sees the call is still going, his voice low, commanding as he speaks directly into it.

“Oops… guess I forgot to hang up.” A smirk lifts the corner of his lips as he presses the button, ending the call with a casual flick of his thumb. The room falls into heavy silence, broken only by the sound of your breathing, unsteady and wrecked, and the faint echo of your pulse in your ears.

He leans down slowly, his mouth brushing your ear. “Now, where were we?” he whispers, voice low and smug.

His eyes lock on yours, dark with lust, satisfaction, and something more. Something possessive.

Before you can answer, his lips are on yours, not rough this time, but slow and hungry, like he wants to taste the way you’ve fallen apart for him. He kisses you deep, teasing, savoring, like the rest of the world still doesn’t exist.

Then he starts moving again.

His thrusts pick up pace, fast and relentless, slamming into you with the kind of rhythm that makes your legs shake. You’re already so sensitive, your nerves shot, but he doesn’t slow down. He won’t. He chases his own high with the same control he’s had from the start, hands gripping your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you.

You’re barely aware of the choked cry that escapes your throat as he pushes you straight into another climax. It crashes through you like lightning, your wrists trembling where they’re tied together in front of you, fingers clenched uselessly.

And Seonghwa groans against your neck, finally giving in, his hips snapping forward one last time as he spills inside you.

You feel every pulse of him.

He stays there, buried deep, chest heaving against your back, his breath warm and ragged in your ear. His hand slides up your side, slowing, grounding you. Neither of you speak, the silence somehow louder than anything.

Eventually, Seonghwa shifts, his fingers grazing the knot at your wrists. There’s a tenderness in the way he unties you, like his own quiet form of aftercare. The rope slips away, and your hands fall loose with a sigh of relief.

And then, finally, you reach for him.

Your arms wrap around him weakly, pulling him closer, needing him. Not just the way he fucked you, not just the way he ruined you, but the way he stayed. The way he held you there after. The way he gave you all of him.

He lets himself collapse against you, careful not to crush, just to be there.

Skin to skin. Chest to chest. His warmth wraps around you like a second blanket, his head resting in the crook of your neck, the softest sigh falling against your shoulder. One of his hands slips into your hair, fingertips massaging lightly at your scalp, the other resting protectively over your hip, holding you close without a word.

Then, slowly, with care you didn’t know he was still capable of after all that intensity, he begins to guide himself out of you. You whimper without meaning to, not in pain, just from the loss, the ache of being that full of him for so long, and now not.

He hears it instantly. Feels it.

His lips press to your shoulder before you can even breathe his name.

“Baby,” he murmurs, guilt softening every syllable. “Don’t move, okay? Let me take care of you.”

You hum, melted into the mattress, and he presses one more kiss to your skin before slipping away.

You hear the faucet, the rustle of towels, drawers opening. He returns within moments, quiet, collected, but his hands shake when they first touch your skin again.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, kneeling beside you on the bed.

The first press of warm cloth between your legs makes you exhale, your lashes fluttering. It’s gentle, so gentle, like he’s afraid to touch you too firmly, as if you might break. He dabs softly, cleaning you with the kind of reverence most people wouldn’t even know how to give.

To him, this isn’t a chore. It’s devotion.

“Still okay?” he asks, voice low, threaded with concern.

You hum. “Mhm. Still floating.”

He smiles, even though you can’t see it. You turn over on your stomach, resting your face on a pillow as you close your eyes. You can feel his love in his kiss when he leans down to press his mouth to your lower back, right at the curve of your spine. He kisses you again, a little higher. Then again. His mouth moves over your skin like he’s rewriting the story he just left behind in red, not erasing it, just softening the edges.

“I didn’t mean to mark you so much,” he murmurs, tracing a thumb over one of the faint handprints on your hip. “But God… the way you feel… the way you sound when you fall apart for me…”

His voice cracks a little, like the emotion is catching up to him.

You reach back, threading your fingers through his hair instead. He leans into your touch instantly, sighing into your skin.

“I like the marks,” you whisper, smiling softly. “It means you wanted me. It means you couldn’t help it.”

His fingers are so soft, so careful, tracing every mark he left behind, like he’s trying to memorize them. Then, his lips follow.

Kisses. Dozens of them. Scattered like stars across your back, your shoulders, your neck. Tender and slow and endless.

His breath hitches, and then he’s leaning over you again, pulling the blankets up carefully over both of you before tucking himself behind you, chest pressed to your back, one leg tangled with yours, his arm sliding beneath your neck to cradle you. You can feel him everywhere.

He nuzzles your touch immediately, pressing his nose to the side of your face with a long exhale. “Does anything hurt, my love?”

“No,” you breathe. “Just sore. In a good way.”

“Too much?”

“Never.”

His arm slides around you, and he reaches for your hand, the one you wear the ring on. The promise ring. The one he gave you after everything. After you chose him. But you didn’t know that he bought it before you knew you’d be his forever. When he had no right to. When all he could do was hope.

He finds your fingers and threads his through them, bringing them up between you.

And then, he kisses your finger with the ring.

Not quickly. Not casually.

It’s the kind of kiss that makes your breath catch.

It’s slow. Gentle. Reverent.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words trembling out.

He tucks his face into the crook of your neck, his arms tightening around you.

“I love you more,” he breathes. “And I’ll keep choosing you. Every day. Just like I always have.”

And that’s how you fall asleep, his fingers laced with yours, the promise of forever resting warm and golden between you. His kisses don’t stop. Neither does his touch. Neither does his love.

And he’ll never stop.

Not in this lifetime. Not in any.

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[leaentries]

WORLD OF FIRSTS - MATT REMPE

SYNOPSIS: matt wants his girls first time to be perfect

WARNINGS: swearing, sexual content, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (pulling out), taking virginity, incredibly sappy matt, he’s just a big ball of love, not proofread

WORDCOUNT: 2.96k+

You took a deep breath, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Eyes alighted with fresh mascara and cheeks adorned with blush; you were ready for the night. You knew what was coming, yet the nerves still boiled inside your belly. Matt was nothing but courteous toward you, never pressuring you into anything. He promised he wouldn’t ask until you brought it up.

What is “it” one may ask? Sex.

You had never planned to end up a twenty-old-virgin, yet here you are.

It’s not for the lack of opportunities, not in the slightest. Sure, you’ve had the offers of hookups or one night stands with random men from the bar, but that just wasn’t your style. You weren’t holding out for marriage, per se, but you did prefer to wait until you felt it was the right time. In all honestly, it started to feel like that day would never come. At least, until you met Matt.

You had met Matt after securing a position on the Ranger’s media team, inevitably catching the eye of the 6’8 hockey player. His once confident demeanor was dwindled down to a blubbering mess the second you talked to him. Poor boy, don’t judge his size and skill on the ice, he was still just a kid who was head over heels for a girl.

Once he finally mustered up the courage to ask you out, it only progressed from there. You could hardly keep your hands off each other, taking to exploring other aspects of one another’s bodies. The first time things got a little too heated, you managed to break away and explain things to Matt. He clung to your every word, noticing the way you anxiously fiddled with your fingers.

Being the respectful guy that he is, he nodded understandingly, reassuring you that it was okay. He even pinky promised you that whenever you decided to go all the way, he would make it the most romantic experience you could dream of. And, he definitely tried his best.

You walked into his apartment on that clear Thursday night, only to be met with candles, all of your favorite scent, lit around almost every room in the place. Your eyes widened at the effort he clearly put in for tonight, not truly expecting it.

You turned to face your boyfriend, who stood biting his lip nervously, “Matty..” You cooed.

He walked up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “I promised you I’d make it special.” He quirked his head to side amusingly, “You know I can’t break a pinky promise.”

You smiled up at him, finally being able to take in his attire. His soft grey hoodie hung loosely over the black sweatpants that adorned his muscular legs. Matt’s hair was tousled, clear evidence of his hands carding through the brunette locks in his worried state. You could practically feel your heat melting with the warm drips of love that filled every fiber of your being.

His eyes raked down your body, adam’s apple bobbing roughly as his gaze lingered on your breasts a tad longer than considered polite. The rise and fall of your chest began to increase as his hands trailed under your shirt. Matt’s thumbs rubbed soothing circles against your bare sides.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, baby.”

His reassurance brought an extra blanket of comfort, but also even more solidity that he was the right one.

You shook your head lightly, “No, I want to. I want to do this with you.” You tilted your head up more, now fully looking him in the eyes, “I trust you, Matty.”

He leaned down, taking your lips into a soft kiss. Although it was gentle and sweet, it conveyed how much care Matt had for you. All of the unspeakable things and unsaid words were passed through this simple kiss.

Your hands moved to grip his biceps as his tongue slipped delicately into your mouth. His hands pulled your hips closer to his, a small gasp leaving your mouth as his hardening bulge pressed into your soft tummy. He took the opportunity to lick at your teeth, a low groan leaving his chest. Matt finally pulled away, eliciting a whine of protest on your end.

He chuckled lovingly, “Don’t worry, baby. Just wanna take you to the bedroom first.”

You nodded, swallowing nervously. Matt intertwined your hand with his, leading you through the apartment to the main bedroom. Upon entering, you felt your breath hitch in your throat. There were more candles, except this time they were accompanied by slightly crumpled rose petals that had been haphazardly thrown about the bed and hardwood around it.

It rendered you speechless.

Matt’s eyes scanned your face, still not fully convinced everything was good enough for you, “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes darted towards him.

“I-it’s not how I envisioned everything, the roses weren’t in season apparently, and the vanilla candles were all I could find at the store to match. I should have tried harder or-”

You cut him off, “It’s perfect.” You reached for his fingers, pulling his body into yours, “It couldn’t be more perfect.”

A conflicted sigh left his mouth, his bottom lip swollen from the anxious biting. You lifted your arm up to cradle his face, “I promise,” You forced him to lock pinkies with your other hand, “I pinky promise.” You reiterated.

His eyes searched yours for any discomfort or hesitation. You gently pulled his face down into a confirming kiss. You let your hand fall from his face, fingers cascading down the tense muscles of his chest and abdomen. You tugged on the bottom of his hoodie, signaling that you wanted it off.

Matt smirked as he pulled away, “I figured I’d be the one undressing you first.”

You smiled, kicking his foot lightly in retaliation, “Well, since somebody won’t take charge, clearly I’m gonna have to.”

With this, something darkened in Matt’s eyes, his smirk only growing. He quickly discarded the unwanted material, revealing his toned torso. You immediately reached out to run your fingers through the dips and divots of his stomach. His skin was warm against your fingertips, the muscle smooth under your touch. He watched your hands move, stomach tensing as you brushed over sensitive areas.

He grabbed your hand softly, just as you reached the waistband of his sweats. He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on each fingertip, “So” on your thumb, “eager,” on your index finger, then following with the last three, leaving a lingering kiss on your pinky. Your breath picked up as he trailed his kisses down your palm, sucking gently on the pulse point in your wrist.

“Matt,” You sighed, the pressure building between your thighs becoming overbearing. The room’s temperature seemed to rise with each kiss he laid upon your skin, igniting tiny fires in every vein. You could practically feel the desire pounding in your ears.

Matt leaned down further as he stuck his nose into your neck and jaw, burying his face there for a moment. You brought a hand up, tangling it in the hair at the nape of his neck. The locks were soft between your fingers and you tugged lightly. His mouth started to suck teasing kisses and red blotches into the supple skin causing you to deliver a harder tug on his hair. Matt let out a loud groan, and with panic, you let go.

“I’m sorry, Matty,” You brought his head up, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He just laughed, “Hurt me? Baby, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” He took your hand, placing it back in its previous position, “And, for the record, I was into it.”

Your cheeks burned at his confession, but you believed him, especially with the evidence straining against the material of his pants. Matt resumed his attack on your neck, only this time he worked his way down until he was met with the collar of your shirt.

His hands hesitated for a moment at hem, his eyes looked to yours before moving forward. You nodded, giving him the consent. He gently pulled the shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere on the floor. His eyes immediately drifted to your breasts, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Go lay on the bed," Matt rasped.

Not wasting time, you quickly crawled on the bed, leaning against the soft pillows. Matt kneeled down on the mattress, body coming to slot in between your legs. His calloused hands rested on your thighs, running seductive patterns into the plushy skin.

"So pretty like this," He panted through his need, "All laid out just f'me."

You whined, hips bucking with a mind of their own. The deep carnal desire was becoming too much, the new ache of want echoed through your bones. You shook with anticipation.

"Please, Matty," You begged, "Need you so bad."

"Use your words, pretty girl," He encouraged, "Tell me what you want."

You huffed with embarrassment, not yet used to having to voice your needs. Matt watched you closely, enjoying the flustered look on your face.

"I need you," You managed.

He tsked, "Gotta tell me exactly what you need, baby. Wanna give you what you want."

You swallowed the whine that bubbled in your throat, barely managing out your words, “Need you to touch me.” You grabbed his hand and placed it between your legs, “Need you to touch me here.”

“Fuck,” Matt mumbled under his breath. The feeling of your wet cunt through the fabric of your leggings was enough to have his cock weeping. He leaned down to kiss up your stomach, making sure to give the tops of your breasts attention. By the time he reached your lips, you practically inhaled him. You were desperate for him, and your body’s response betrayed any attempt to cover it up.

Matt’s hand snaked behind your back, fumbling with your bra clasp, his brows furrowed as he tried to focus on kissing you and unhooking it at the same time. Not breaking the kiss, you sit up slightly, reaching behind you to help him out. The second the hook popped off, Matt eagerly discarded the item. His breath stopped as he took in your breasts. Even though this wasn’t the first time he’d seen them, they never failed to make his stomach swirl and his cock throb.

His head dipped down to take a nipple into his mouth, tongue circling the peaked bud. Your head fell back against the pillow as you arched your back, pushing your tits further into his mouth. A load moan escaped your throat as he bit down gently.

“Fuck,” You panted, “Matty, need more.”

He smirked against you, fingers treading down to hook themselves on the waistband of your leggings. He sat up on his knees, before looking to you for permission. You nodded eagerly, the fiery desperation for him greater than anything you had ever felt. He slowly pulled them down, tapping your thigh lightly in order for you to lift your hips. Matt helped thread your ankles through, tossing the material with the rest of your discarded clothes.

Your legs instinctively fell apart, putting your glistening cunt on display for him. Matt could have sworn he’d cum in his pants right then and there. He sat for a moment, taking in your body. He took note of every curve, mark, and scar that littered your skin. He wanted to remember them forever.

Becoming impatient, you tugged at his drawstrings, “Don’t just stare. Want you inside of me.”

His body immediately fell to trap yours, his lips so close you could feel them as he spoke, “Can’t say things like that, baby. Or else this gonna be over far sooner than we’d like.”

He pressed one more searing kiss to your lips before dropping a hand between your bodies.

“Gotta stretch you out, okay?”

You nodded, wanting nothing more than for him to touch you where you needed him most.

His hand brushed against your clit, making you jolt with pleasure. Matt prodded at your entrance with his middle finger, before slowly slipping the digit into your slick walls. He quickly found a steady rhythm, your arousal seeping onto the bed sheets.

You bucked your hips as the pleasure coursed through your body. Matt took this as a sign to add another finger. He continued to work you up, gently adding a third. As soon as he sped up his fingers, you ground yourself down against the heel of his palm, the stimulation almost sending you over the edge.

"Matty," You cooed, "M' gonna cum."

And just as you began to ride to that peak, Matt removed his fingers. You almost let out a whine of protest, but the sight of him sucking your essence off his fingers had your soaked pussy clenching around nothing. Matt lifted himself above you once more, holding up his weight.

"You ready, pretty girl?" He asked, "We can always stop and watch a movie if you'd rather do that. I won't care, I promise."

You looked him dead in the eyes, "Matthew, I mean this in the most loving way, but please just shut up and fuck me."

He laughed as he took your lips into a hot fight of tongues and teeth, he mumbled against your lips, "I love you, woman." With that, he sat up and quickly threw off his sweats and boxers in one go. His cock slapped proudly against his abdomen, drops of pre-cum already seeping from his swollen tip.

He aligned himself, before slowly starting to inch his way in. Matt watched your face intensely, watching for any signs of you wanting to stop. You let out a gasp, the initial pain catching you off guard.

Matt leaned down to plant kisses all over your face as he eased himself in further, "I know, I know, baby. You're doing so good f'me." He hushed out, "Taking my cock so well."

You both let out moans as he sunk in the final couple of inches. You panted, overwhelmed by the way he split you open.

"You doin' okay?" He managed through gritted teeth. The tight grip your cunt had around his cock was almost too much for him to deal with.

You nodded, the dull pain finally fading away into need, "You can move."

He swallowed harshly, before pulling out gently and sheathing himself back in fully. Matt did this a few more times, or at least until he had a reign on his hormones. The feeling of being buried inside of you had his mind in a frenzy, wanting nothing more than to fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name. But he knew there would be time for that later, right now was all about you.

Matt reached up to intertwine your hands, his thrusts slowly getting faster and harder. You moaned loudly as the tip of his cock nestled so deliciously against your g-spot. Waves of pleasure surged through every sense you had, until all you could focus on was him. He intoxicated everything. There was only him.

Low groans left Matt’s mouth, his heavy breathing picking up as he tilted his hips in order to reach deeper into you. Your jaw fell slack, your grip on his hand tightening with the intense pressure in your lower belly. It spread from the tips of toes all the way to the tops of your ears, consuming you completely until the only thing still holding you to earth was Matt. His groans turned into breathy whines as he neared his peak, but he was determined to have you finish first.

Matt snaked a hand down your body, to rub sloppy circles on your clit. The added stimulation had your eyes rolling back and a loud cry leaving your mouth.

“Come on, pretty girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock.”

The sounds of his hips slapping against yours, paired with his encouragement finally broke the knot that had been tightening in your gut. Your moan fell silent as the force of your orgasm hit you like a truck. Blinding white pleasure danced through your body, your pussy spasming rapidly around Matt’s cock. Just your facial expressions alone were enough to send him toppling over that edge as well, his cock twitching as he quickly pulled out. He stroked his cock until ropes of white painted your stomach and chest, the warm liquid dripping down your tits.

Matt’s chest heaved as he fell beside you, rubbing soothing patterns into your hair. He whispers sweet nothings to you as you slowly came back to reality. You tilted your head to look up at him, smiling softly.

He placed a sweet kiss on your head, “There’s those beautiful eyes,” Matt cradled your face with one of his large hands, “You feeling okay? I wasn’t too rough was I?”

You shook your head, “No, everything was perfect. You were perfect, Matty.”

He smiled lovingly at you, eyes looking at you as if you’d hung the moon. He placed another kiss on your temple, before getting up and grabbing a towel to clean you off. Once his spent had been wiped off of you completely, you grabbed his wrist, tugging him back down to lay with you.

“Baby,” He laughed, “We gotta get you in the shower so I can clean you off.”

You groaned in displeasure, “In a minute, just wanna cuddle with you first. Want you to hold me.”

He fell into place behind you, pulling your body snugly against his, “If I ever say no to holding you, you have my full permission to kill me on the spot.”

You just grinned, burying yourself further into his warm body.

[princessbrunette]

sometimes, bunny!reader had very little self awareness. even less when she was with rafe.

you’re at the nail salon, waiting for the lady that worked there to fetch the card machine so rafe could pay for the mani pedi you just received. he’d been running errands all day, but had made that little window of time so he could pick you up and pay for you himself — he was thoughtful like that, for you anyway.

“taking her time, jesus.” rafe complains under his breath, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looks around the salon, straight faced. you tsk, gently smacking the arm of his that you clung to.

“they’re having a busy day, rafey! don’t be rude.” you inform through a glossy pout, adjusting your grip on him when he shrugs carelessly.

“yeah well, i got shit to do. what time is it, anyway?”

you lift your phone, tapping the screen with one taloned nail to awaken it. rafe looks over your shoulder too, like he subconsciously didn’t even trust you to tell him the right time. sometimes you did that, telling him it was earlier than it was when he’d ask so that he’d spend longer with you, thinking he had more time. whilst you were on the well behaved side, it was one of your more sneaky habits.

however, the kook boys attention is stolen from the clock at the top of your screen nearly immediately when you carelessly display his own dick on the lockscreen. the worst part is how you’re not even trying to hide it, practically waving it around for the salon to see. you turn the screen towards him, bracelets jangling as you shake the screen a little.

“see, m’not lying about the time toda—”

rafe snatches the phone from your hand, wide eyed as he glances around. “the hell is this, huh? why is my dick your lockscreen? don’t need people seein’ what i’m working with kid, jesus— change that shit. now.” he scolds and you pout.

“but, daddy i like seeing it.” you put on the innocent act— one you do all too well as you bat your eyelashes up at him, clasping your freshly manicured hands at your front, thinking the ‘daddy’ nickname will win you some points.

“do you like sitting down? ‘cos you’re not gonna be able to do that either if you start talkin’ back. change it.”

you stare him down for a second, resisting a foot thump before yielding, sulkily taking your phone back and opening up your camera roll to find a better picture to use as your lockscreen.

“good. play stupid games win stupid prizes alright i don’t need you parading my—” his lecture his cut short by the salon assistant returning, asking if he’d like to pay with cash or card.

you continue to sulk once you’re in the passenger seat to his car, choosing to inspect your nails over interacting with him. as he concentrates on pulling out of his spot, he glances at you quickly. “hey, cheer up.” it’s more of a command and your pout only deepens.

“i liked my lockscreen rafey. i changed it because i missed you.”

surprisingly, he huffs out a quiet laugh.

“and — and a picture of just me wouldn’t have sufficed? nah, you missed my dick.” he shakes his head, squinting out at the road ahead.

“missed both.” its quiet, but he hears anyway— glancing at you once more.

“yeah? well guess where we’re headed now?”

your interest is piqued and you peer over at him, eyeing the handsome cameron.

“home. so once again, you’re gettin’ what you want. so… so stop looking so heartbroken, alright? you’ll get your fix.”

like that, all is forgotten, leaning over the console to smear a glossy kiss to his cheek and grab him through his pants — usual behaviour back in tact.

[littlcdarlin]

dbf!Joel headcanons

warnings: big, though unspecified age gap, 18+ (as always)

note: Uni has been kicking my ass, so I’ve only had time for some headcanons lately. This Joel is very sweet, but I’m open to writing sleazy or dark Joel, too! If you have requests for any headcanons, I will be able to write them even during this stressful time. Full fics will take me a while longer. Enjoy reading, my loves <3 and feel free to add stuff!

He doesn’t really know how to cook well and mostly eats his faves every day but when you stay over more and more he makes an effort to learn and actually finds out he really likes it

Whatever pressure your parents put on you, he relieves it by accepting it rather than trying to fix it for you — you can just exist around him without expectation

He worries the age difference means you don’t have much to talk about, so he watches your favourite show that you mentioned and although it certainly wouldn’t have been his first pick, it lets him unwind. He likes watching something he knows you’ve watched and loved when you’re not around, it makes him feel closer to you

When he first starts looking at you differently he blue balls himself so as not to disrespect you — when he has sex with someone to relieve himself, he accidentally says your name to them

He keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet and cashiers wonder why he smiles at his debit card so much

He finds it hard to stay friends with your dad, because it makes him feel weird about this dynamic with you. He distances himself from your parents after they react badly to the news of your relationship, not because of guilt or cowardice, but because he doesn’t tolerate how they treat you

He thought he would hate the gossip after the two of you go public, but when you do, he finds himself imagining knocking you up just so everyone knows what he does to you. He opts for lots of hickeys until kids might be a possibility, but that doesn’t stop him from pretending you don’t have an IUD when he finishes inside of you

He loves when you wear his clothes, but when you forget your scarf at his place he wears it and enjoys that just as much — it smells like you and he likes the idea of people being able to tell it’s somebody else’s

When he figures out how much you like him talking to you during sex, he starts using the same voice/phrases in public to get you flustered & wet for him

He keeps everything that reminds him of you, like parking tickets etc. He doesn’t do anything with those things, doesn’t put them in a box, so they linger around his house, reminding him of you the way photographs would, except more privately

He starts “putting in an effort” for you when you start dating: styling his hair & wearing clothes he thinks you would prefer, until you tell him you like nothing more than his flannels and band tees and jeans, and although he doesn’t tell you, he’s beyond relieved. He realises you like him for him

When you tell your parents, Joel asks your father to hit him because “he knows he deserves it”. With time he learns he also deserves your kisses and smiles. Those things coexist within him, he thinks both are true

Despite completely supporting you in your pursuit of a degree & career, he likes when you’re on holiday, waiting around for him in his house wearing nothing but a pair of panties he bought for you & one of his hoodies. During those lazy weeks, he fucks you morning, afternoon, and night: before he leaves, when he gets home, and right before you go to sleep

He buys you a ring during the first week of dating because you mentioned how much you like it. He doesn’t give it to you until he knows you feel certain about him — he doesn’t want to freak you out. Still, even before that, he sometimes looks at it in its little black box and envisions it on your finger

During your first couple of “public dates” (neighbourhood barbecue where your parents are present etc.) he refrains from touching you much, although everyone knows about your relationship. You have to take his hand and initiate small touches for him to feel more comfortable

It takes him a short while, but then he loves being able to touch you in front of people: a hand on your lower back, an arm across your shoulder, his fingers lacing through yours, him pulling your back against his front and wrapping his arms around you. People stare sometimes (your Dad breaks one or two wine glasses in his hand), but Joel stops caring when he sees how happy it makes you

He tells you that you can change things about his home, that it should feel like your place, too and asks if you want to go shopping for “candles and stuff”, but you love being in a space that feels completely like him. It’s not how your apartment looks, but it makes you feel at ease, like you’re somehow living inside of him

Before he tells you he loves you, he whispers it in your ear when you’re sleeping, hoping your subconscious will somehow pick up on it. When he does tell you while you’re awake for the first time, it’s during breakfast. You stub your toe, and let out a string of curses you must have picked up on from him, and while he presses ice against your foot, kneeling in front of you, he smiles up and tells you: I love you.

The first time you sleep over at his house after he spent the night in your apartment, two brand new bottles of the shampoo and conditioner you use are in his shower. You thank him and jokingly ask why he didn’t buy your shower gel, too. He kisses you and tells you he likes when you smell like him.

He likes making you come more times than you thought you could — something about moving in and out of you while you tell him you can’t do it again, that you’re done, and then watching you fall apart on his cock anyway, thrills him to the bone. It makes him feel powerful, but part of it is knowing you let him fuck you without expecting an orgasm, that him being inside of you is enough for you to feel good

He doesn’t tell you, but he adds your name to his car insurance, so that you can drive it whenever you want

When you figure it out you give him road head every time the two of you drive somewhere — until he almost crashes the car and he forbids you to tempt him while he’s behind the wheel

He’s so nervous he asks Tommy for help when picking out a birthday gift for you — Tommy goes overboard and the gift turns out to be something completely ridiculous like a pair of huge earrings you would never wear. You tell Joel you don’t need a big fuss to feel loved by him. At night, he gives you a present he’s been wanting to give you for a while: he plays you a song he wrote for you on his guitar. It’s quiet and simple and so perfect you cry for half an hour

He doesn’t sleep well when you’re not around, and loves being close to you at night. If he could, he’d sleep nestled inside of you after a round of lazy midnight sex every night

As much as Tommy annoys him, it makes him happy to see how well you two get along. When you become actual friends with Tommy and hang out with him on your own, he’s more than pleased: the two people he loves the most in the world have become close

He would never ask it of you, but when you tell him you have stopped masturbating because he fucks you so often, it pleases him deeply. He likes being the only source of your pleasure. When you are apart for a while because of work/collage etc., he buys you a toy he can control from his phone

He tells Tommy he thinks he’s going to marry you during the first month of dating, which you find out about only on your wedding day during Tommy’s speech

[certaimromance]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. Love or seal?

Dean Winchester x Hunter!reader

main masterlist

Summary: An avenging spirit is killing married couples, so the Winchesters think it's a good idea to use you to pretend to be one and take down the ghost. But the act becomes all too real before you know it.

Words: 1,8k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. mentions of murder, death, violence. so much teasing. a little of angst with happy ending. dean from the early seasons but soft and chaotic (a bit simp). sam being cupid and forgotten lol. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I've always been a Dean girl and I'm so excited about this. I love the concept of "Frenemies to Lovers" with its more playful and cutie version from the earlier seasons, I hope I described it well.

This is my second time ever writing here, i'm still new.

You took another look in the mirror and walked a few laps around the dingy motel room, trying to swallow the act. It seemed ironic to wear such a fancy dress and high heels in a place like this, but it was all so you could solve the case and prevent more deaths. After all, it was your job to catch the ghosts and put them to rest.

It had been a long time since you'd been out on a date or worn anything other than your usual jeans and leather jacket. Buying yourself a cute dress and wedding rings with one of your fake cards had been entertaining, the closest thing to a normal life you'd had in years.

“Come in, I need help with the zipper on my dress.” You said after hearing a couple of knocks on your door.

You were still standing in front of the bathroom mirror, waiting for Sam to show up to help you so the two of you could leave soon for the restaurant where you both had reserved a table. The strange thing was that the cold hands you felt running down your back and zipping you up were not his, but those of his older brother.

“What are you doing here? Where is Sam?” You turned around to look at Dean once your dress was closed. It was then that you noticed he was wearing a suit and the ring.

“In the room.” He replied, moving closer to you so he could look at himself in the mirror and adjusting his tie with difficulty, he was not used to wearing one at all and felt suffocated.

“Why are you dressed like that?” You asked him after looking him over from head to toe and inevitably biting your lower lip. He looked good, all dressed up and dapper, you could even smell the scent of cologne wafting off him.

“I'll be your husband for tonight.” Dean smiled at you.

You frowned when you heard that the younger Winchester would no longer be your fake husband, because that was not what you had all agreed upon. Sam had always been more husband material, and you trusted him enough to have some physical contact if necessary. On the other hand, you saw Dean as someone who was far from the prototypical perfect partner, and you could barely talk to him without arguing about your differences, never having touched him except for sparring practice or taking away the gun he kept stealing from you. You couldn't deny that both brothers were attractive, but they were almost equally far from meaning anything romantic to you.

“We flipped a coin and I got the job.” He added to the explanation, noticing the confusion on your face.

Finally you nodded, realizing that once again they had not been able to reach an agreement and had had to put luck in the middle for the choice of roles. You didn't mind going with Dean, you had already been on several hunts with him and trusted his skills, but having to impersonate his wife was weird.

“Can you...?” He tried to ask you, pointing at his tie and all the trouble it caused him.

You let out a small laugh at seeing him so confused over a simple tie and went over to him to take it off. You had to tie it all over again because of how badly he had done it before.

“This looks very wife.” He commented as he saw the delicacy with which you were trying to fix his mess.

“I hope the spirit feels the same and is looking forward to slaughtering us.” You replied, taking a step away from him as you finished.

You two said a quick goodbye to Sam and then hopped into the Impala, which took you to a shiny restaurant near the road where the ghost appeared.

“Don't embarrass me, please.” You said to him as soon as you both sat down at the table and placed your order.

“How could I, darling?” He smiled innocently at you and took your hand on the table, caressing the ring on your finger.

You didn't say anything, just smiled back and kept your thoughts to yourself. You couldn't believe he actually called you that, sounding almost like a husband, even though you knew it was because of the acting, it gave you a funny feeling in your stomach. The most you'd gotten from Dean Winchester in all the years you'd known him was a "good job" and a strange smile, followed by a lot of questions about your careless decisions. You alone were far enough away from marriage, let alone someone like him.

“You look very handsome tonight.” You told him as you saw he was drinking water, causing him to almost spit it out in surprise.

Usually you never complimented him, barely looked him in the eye, talked about anything other than hunting, or even laughed at his jokes. It seemed that his presence didn't matter much to you because your interests were more aligned with Sam's and you got along better with him. That bothered Dean a lot, he hated being so invisible in your eyes.

Now, however, you didn't take your eyes off him and even gave him compliments that left him speechless to continue the performance.

“At least the food is good.” You said absentmindedly as the waiter brought the plates.

“And the company?”

You looked into his eyes, trying to understand if he was playing with you or if he was really hurt by your lack of emotion. The strange thing was that you didn't know if it was one or the other, his greenish gaze was a mystery.

“The best company, of course.” You gave him a smile and picked up your glass of wine to make a small toast.

“How affectionate you are now.”

“Yes, I feel almost as if today is the last day of my life.” You said with irony.

Dinner went off without a hitch in a quiet and strangely pleasant atmosphere. You couldn't help but be surprised by Dean's friendliness, it was the first time you had a civilized conversation with him. The first time he held your hand and you noticed how green his eyes were.

Suddenly, everything he said, silly or not, made you smile. The only rational thing to do was to attribute it to the glass of wine he had decided to drink. In general, you didn't allow yourself to drink alcohol, let alone in the middle of a hunt. But now, for some reason, you thought it would help your nerves and relax you a bit.

“Where did you leave the car?” You asked once they left the site and the time to travel the road of death was approaching.

“In the corner over there...I hope.” He answered without really being sure. For him, it had all happened so fast when you two arrived.

“My feet hurt. Don't play with me now.” You said, hating the high heels you were wearing.

At that moment, the hunter stopped and motioned for you to sit on the bench by the exit. Unsure, you obeyed and frowned as he knelt down to gently remove your shoes.

“Happy now?” He asked he asked, holding your heels in his hands.

“I can't walk barefoot.” You claimed, putting on a fake sad face and lowering your gaze to his arms.

Dean shook his head instantly.

“No, don't even think that I'll carry you.” He warned confidently, folding his arms.

A few minutes later, he was silently leading you to the car, snorting at every opportunity to give in so easily to your wishes.

“This looks very husband.” You pointed out with a smile and a teasing tone.

“I would offer you to the spirit right now.” He replied, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“How lovely you are, my dear.”

The two finally got into the car and headed for the exit. Dean had received a message from his brother telling him that he had found the name of the ghost woman and her grave with her husband, who was the cause of all his resentment against happily married couples, and to top it off, he was buried on top of her.

“Sam is going to burn the grave and everything will be fine.” He said trying to comfort you as he saw the concern on your face. “Maybe the woman doesn't want to kill anyone today.”

“You have too much faith in a murderous spirit.” You sighed and tried to remove the ring from your finger, but it stuck. “And you should take the ring off.”

“Are we getting divorced so soon?” He replied in a joking tone, with his eyes on the road.

You looked at him seriously, this was no time for jokes because everything was going wrong. If Sam didn't dig up those bones soon, they were probably going to kill you both and the plan was going to fail completely. It was supposed to be easy and you were terrified that it wasn't anymore.

“Come on, don't be like that. You were laughing so hard with me.” He smiled at you.

Before you could respond, a pale woman in a blood-stained wedding dress appeared in the back seat. You could barely say Dean's name when the ghost's hand came around your neck and began to choke you. After a few moments, you couldn't even breathe and everything became a blur.

You didn't want to die, at least not at that moment. Not without having lived a life as good as the night before everything went to hell. You still had too many things to do to go like that, let alone in front of him, you couldn't let that happen.

“Don't move.” The hunter said to you before drawing his gun and disputing you to the back seat.

The ghost disappeared for a few seconds and then reappeared just ahead of the road. A braking maneuver as the woman was beginning to burn in front of the two of you almost made you jump out of your seat.

Sam had succeeded.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah.” You said, still trying to catch your breath and process everything that had happened.

“And my thanks for saving you and not letting death part us?”

At any other time, you would have simply made a sarcastic comment and emphasized that it was all thanks to her brother. However, the recent experience had changed something in you and made you kiss his cheek.

Before you could completely pull your face away from his, he put his hand on your cheek and pulled you close. You felt his lips move over yours and responded without hesitation. A big part of you had been thinking about this moment all night and was more than happy it was happening. It was like the perfect ending to a fake marriage date, minus the killer ghost part, and it made you smile in the middle of it.

“You didn't flip any coin, did you?” You asked as you broke away from the kiss for a second.

“No, I didn't.” He admitted, leaving a kiss on your head and making you smile even more.

[dovveri]

upskill from student to parent

synopsis: one of your students has the most obvious crush on you, but you have the most obvious crush on his mother.

warnings: swearing? maybe idek AHAHA

w/c: 6.9k

a/n: kind of an homage to my fav person on this app @miinatozakiii ‘s first published work the kindergarten teacher sana 🙂‍↕️ happy late one year anniversary babe 🥰

⋆✐ೀ⋆

“alright kids, don't forget i'm seeing most of your parents tonight so if you want to make a good impression, you better start doing your homework because i know most of you don't!"

there are collective groans across the classroom as they pack up their things and leave, thanking you as they head out the door to their next period.

you giggle, recalling the days you were a student in their position, you rarely did your math homework as well.

"ms. l/n?"

you look up from your desk with a smile.

"i- um- i just wanted to s-say- thank you for this lesson. i was really- um- struggling with derivatives when you introduced them last time but you made it really clear this class."

you beam, appreciating the feedback, "that's great to hear hideki! if you have any more trouble in the future please be sure to let me know, i'll be happy to set up bonus small group classes or even individual sessions if you guys need the help."

"t-thanks ms. l/n. that's really nice of you."

"it's my job hideki." you smile, "did you need any help with anything else?"

he shakes his head shyly, hand at the back of his neck, "that was all! thanks again miss!"

"no worries, i'll see you tonight?"

he agrees happily, darting out the door with his cheeks flushed.

it wasn't the first time a student had had a crush on you. it was normally harmless. some of them had tried to confess to you over the years, usually waiting until after they graduated because they thought it’d be okay if you no longer had a student-teacher relationship. some of them would confess while you were still their teacher regardless, those were a little tougher because you had to continue teaching them and watch them pout and lose motivation to do their schoolwork and act awkward around you, no longer wanting to participate in class or ask questions if they didn’t understand something. you’d try to let them down gently, and if you noticed they were struggling with coursework, you’d pull them aside or ask another one of the teachers to check in on them.

most of the time though, they were just simple little crushes that would pass with time or after they moved out of your class. you didn't entertain them but it was cute seeing your students in their awkward teen years discovering feelings for the first time.

you stretch, yawning, but yelp when someone's finger jabs into your exposed armpit.

there's a burst of laughter and you frown, staring at the intruder.

"really nayeon?"

the english teacher rolls her eyes with a cheeky grin, "saw hideki on the way out. did he give you that confession note?"

"what confession note?"

nayeon hops a little, a hand covering her mouth, "oh shit."

you narrow your eyes. "tell me."

she grins, not really apologetic for having accidentally spilt her student’s secret, "saw him decorating a card and everything in english class today. his grammar was a little off so i just helped him correct it a little. oh ms. l/n. how i wish to be able to call you by your first name. how i wish to be able to hold you and-" she puts on an exaggerated romeo-like voice and pose, back of her hand coming up to her forehead.

you stand up, slapping her lightly with a blush, "why did you encourage him?!"

she shrugs with a laugh, "i'm an english teacher. gotta make sure the kids are using the language right even if it's for illicit love notes."

you huff, packing up your desk and getting ready to go to lunch, "can't he find a nice girl his age to be in love with? i'm sure he has so many options since he's the star player of the school basketball team and everything."

"something about you attracts the kiddies y/n."

you scrunch your nose, "ew. that sounds gross. i don't even like younger men."

"women?"

"no preference. just someone in the same life stage y'know?"

"wait should i be offended? how come no student has ever confessed to me? aren't english teachers supposed to be like a gay girl's awakening?"

you laugh, ignoring the woman's question, dragging her out of your classroom and to lunch together before you both have to attend to your kids again.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

you enjoyed your job, but parent-teacher interviews were probably your least favourite part of it. if you wanted to deal with parents all day you'd have become a primary school teacher.

there were all kinds of them, some who didn't show up, some who didn't care, some who cared too much, some who were clueless, and some who thought they could do your job better than you.

you rub your temples, grateful for the little 5 minute break you're afforded in between quick 10 minute interviews that would normally go on for longer than that. you blink around the room, the other mathematics teachers gathered in the same classroom, nayeon was down the hall with the other english teachers. you were the youngest of them all, there was a pretty big shortage of secondary mathematics teachers across the country, so it meant maths teachers were putting off retirement for longer so they can continue to support kids, but it still left a lot of gaps that could be filled to give your students the best education they deserved.

you've dazed off enough that you barely register hideki almost bounding in, still in his basketball uniform from after-school practice.

he grins, sliding into the seat opposite yours, "hi ms. l/n!"

you return the smile, "hey hideki." even though you knew about his obvious crush on you, he was still one of your favourite students, maybe it was because he had the crush on you that he was more eager to follow instructions and to prove himself and ask questions whenever he was confused that made him one of the easiest to teach.

and then a woman in a sleek beige coat next to hideki catches your attention. your gaze flicks over to hers. and it can't seem to break away.

she's the most beautiful human being you've ever laid your eyes on. her hair is dyed an autumn brown, wavy locks tucked behind ears, expensive gold jewelry adorning her neck, ears, hands. her eyes match the colour of her hair, a deep fawn brown you could stare into for hours. she's got the most perfect nose you've ever seen, you almost itched to measure it, find the angle of it, the way it led to her pretty lips, full and parted, inviting, pulling you in. and then you realise they're curling up slightly, and you snap your eyes back up to hers to see a mirthful glint in them.

you cough, blushing brightly, "h-hello mrs. hayashi."

"just sana is fine. minatozaki sana. i never married hideki’s father." her voice is silky smooth, there's a certain drawl to it too, it makes you want to listen to her voice on repeat, teasing out every inflection in tone.

you can feel your blush reaching the tips of your ears, "o-oh sorry! i didn't know i apologise!"

sana laughs, it's bright and airy, you don't think you've heard anything purer. "nothing to be sorry about. we broke up a long time ago. when hideki was still very young."

you nod, deciding you can't continue staring at her or you may just faint, so you look down at your files, shuffling them around with no purpose, just to give your hands something to do.

"so how's hideki doing in class?" you can hear the smirk in her voice, her attentive eyes watching as you fumble around.

"he's um- very good- he always makes sure to ask questions whenever he's stuck on anything, and he's probably one of my only students who keeps up with his homework."

"well that's good isn't it deki? what were you so nervous for?" sana teases her son as he blushes, mumbling something under his breath.

you speak up again, "nothing to be nervous about. hideki is one of my best students, he keeps up very well despite his extra curriculars."

sana snorts, "i wish we could say the same about his other subjects. it seems maths is the only thing he tries in."

"mom!"

"what? you heard what your english teacher said. you need to spend some more time editing your own work than you do shooting hoops."

you laugh, "i'm sure his english is alright. nayeon can be a pretty harsh teacher."

sana looks at you again with an eyebrow raised, you quickly look away. "just wait until you read some of his work ms. l/n. you'll be surprised."

hideki blushes again, deciding he won't be giving you that love confession note he has in his bag after all.

"is there anything else i can do for him then? any particular areas he may be struggling in or any recommendations of what we can implement at home to make sure his maths marks stay consistent?"

"homework really. maths is a very practical subject so the more practice he gets the better grasp he'll have. especially with strange or out-of-the-box questions exams may throw at him; it helps a lot if he's practiced with as many question varieties as possible, most people are going to get those 1 or 2 markers, but the bigger questions that really need you to apply the concepts you learn are where you'll start to see distinctions between the students that just study and the students that really have the aptitude and patience for mathematics."

"never was me." sana jokes.

you smile, still avoiding her gaze, your cheeks pink, "i'm sure you would have been a prize student ms. minatozaki."

"just sana." she has a teasing smile on her face.

"r-right. sana."

it's quiet for a few seconds, hideki looks between his mother and you, squinting a little in confusion.

sana coughs, beginning to stand and holding out a hand, "well it was nice meeting you ms. l/n. i can finally understand why hideki goes on and on about his gorgeous maths teacher."

"mom!"

you blush again, taking her hand, almost melting at how soft it felt against yours, forcing yourself to meet her eyes again to be polite. you have to bring your other hand to hold your wrist when you shake it, to support your jelly-like arm in her presence. "it was nice meeting you too sana."

she tightens her grip, smirking a little, "i hope this won't be the last i'll be seeing you. have a good night."

and with that she's off, hideki whining and complaining next to her about how she's embarassed him. it was a little funny considering their height difference, hideki was a basketball player so he had to be tall for his sport, and sana was just a few centimetres shorter than you, though her aura commanded attention, her posture was perfect, you're caught staring at the slight sway in her hips as she walks away, but you quickly reprimand yourself, blushing even brighter at having realised you were just checking out your student's parent.

god she had your mind a mess, and you had a feeling it wouldn't be the last time for this to happen.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

you were so out of your comfort zone. you barely knew anything about basketball. but nayeon just had to drag you to be co-supervisors for your school's basketball team since you didn’t have the funds for a real P.E. teacher. even worse, the parent volunteer just happened to be minatozaki sana, the parent you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since your first meeting with her weeks ago.

nayeon noticed your odd behaviour immediately of course. so being the annoyingly loveable best friend she was, she made herself scarce, herding the kids away with every opportunity and trying to get you and sana alone as much as possible.

that’s how you were now stuck with the woman of your dreams, sharing a hotel room in the place you were staying for the duration of the games.

“are you sure you don’t want me to get another room? the individual room was originally supposed to be meant for you- i can’t believe nayeon let herself get sick and stole it from you.”

sana giggles, plopping down her weekend bag. “it’s alright ms. l/n. i don’t mind sharing rooms with a pretty woman like you.”

you blushed brightly. that was the other problem with sana. she was a flirt. every chance she got she’d make some sort of teasing remark on the way here, or brush a little too close than what was acceptable for friends, and you were barely even friends.

“j-just y/n is fine. i feel weird if someone my age is calling me by my last name like that.”

“how do you know i’m your age?” she smirks.

“o-oh! i just- i mean- i- i’m in my early 30s and you look quite young and but hideki is already 16 so i just assumed um-“

she laughs again, “thank you for the compliment. you’re right. i had hideki when i was 19. his dad promised to take care of him, provide for us, y’know… all the works. he couldn’t take it and left not even a year into hideki’s life. i ended up having to drop out of university and learn to balance work and a baby. my parents weren't any good either, said it was my fault for getting knocked up so early in my life and that i should've been prepared for the consequences."

you perch on the end of your bed, listening attentively while she unpacks her things, "i'm sorry you had to go through that."

she shrugs, "made me who i am today. and plus i have hideki now. and he'll always have me. what about you? any kids? partner?"

you blush as she turns back to you, copying your stance and sitting on her bed facing you. "no. i’ve always been around kids so there’s not exactly a ton of romantic prospects.” you joke.

sana laughs, “what about nayeon?”

you cringe immediately, “ew gross no. we’re just friends. there aren’t that many young teachers that aren’t already married and who aren’t spread all over the country so nayeon and i easily clicked because we’re similar in age and single. not that it’s difficult to get along with the older teachers there’s just some things that we’ll be able to do that they might not necessarily want to anymore… like drink or whatever.”

“are you looking for anyone then?” there’s a smirk on sana’s face that you know can only mean she’s up to no good.

“u-um- well- i mean- uh- like if it comes it comes i’m not actively looking for it. i’m happy with the kids even if i die old and alone because there’s always going to be more kids to teach so i’m never really going to be alone unless i quit or get fired.”

“i really admire teachers y’know. you can take care of a classroom of kids and offer them knowledge when someone like my ex boyfriend couldn’t even handle one child.”

while you were talking, you didn’t even notice that sana had moved onto your bed, sitting next to you, shoulders touching, eyes peering into yours.

you chuckle awkwardly, “w-well i’m actually not that great with younger kids.”

sana frowns, “don’t do that. bringing yourself down to defend a shitty man are both things i don’t want to hear. from what i’ve seen, you love your job and you really care about your kids. you should be proud of that. teachers don’t get enough of the appreciation they should.”

“t-thank you sana.”

“of course.”

it’s quiet after that, and more than awkward. you have no idea where to look, suddenly conscious of her body pressed against yours, fiddling with your hands, feeling sweat build up.

sana just watches you with a glint in her eye, observing all of your actions.

she breaks the tension that seemingly came out of nowhere first, “how do you feel about me?”

your eyes widen, not expecting such a straightforward question, “s-sorry?”

“you’re nervous. do i make you nervous y/n?”

your blush was pretty much permanently fixed on your face now.

“u-um-“

“it’s okay if i do. i just hope it's for the right reasons." she pouts. it's criminal. "you'd tell me if there was something else right?"

"r-right! yes of course yes-"

"good. so you're nervous because you find me attractive?" her pout morphs into a smirk within nanoseconds.

"um- i-"

"you said you'd tell me if it was something else remember?" and then she's straight back into a pout. it was giving you whiplash, the change in expressions, dizzying you.

"um- i- yes- you are- yes you are very pretty and-"

"so you want to kiss me?"

"um-!"

sana finally lets you go, laughing brightly and moving away to give you some space before you burst or melted.

"just joking y/n. i'm sorry you're just too easy to tease and your reactions are adorable!"

you can breathe again, the oxygen finally reaching your brain now that sana wasn't so close to you, and your lips turn downward, imitating her pout from earlier, "sana!"

she continues laughing, going back to unpacking her things while you collect yourself and think just how you were going to survive the two days away sharing a room with the potential love of your life who also happened to be a massive tease.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

thankfully, the rest of the night was pretty uneventful. you checked in on all the boys, made sure they had all had dinner and weren't planning anything irresponsible like a party behind your backs or anything. you also checked in on nayeon who in your professional opinion, looked absolutely fine, having ordered room service and was in one of the hotel robes with her feet kicked up enjoying a face mask and a bottle of wine all to herself.

sana also didn't try anything else when you retired to your own hotel room after doing the rounds on the boys' rooms again to make sure they were all in bed and getting the rest they needed before their game tomorrow. you're not sure if you were grateful or disappointed she didn't, but you quickly pushed her out of your mind, needing to rest as well before having to wake up early to take all the kids to the stadium.

you're knocking loudly on the last room you were meant to check on, annoyed the boys were taking so long, you were all meant to meet in the lobby 10 minutes ago for your bus to the stadium.

when you sigh, prepared to rap your knuckles against the door again, it falls away, revealing a distressed hideki and his roommate for the trip.

"ms. l/n! i'm so sorry we're late eric had some trouble um-" he looks behind him, "we're pretty much ready now! just got to grab some last minute stuff and-" he leaves the door open, continuing his ramble while you cross your arms, tapping your foot impatiently, watching the boys run around the room collecting last minute things and throwing them into gym bags.

by the time they're almost done, sana's snuck up behind you, peeking over your shoulder.

"deki! what are you doing? are you the one holding everyone up? what kind of example are you setting for your team if the team captain's late?"

you jump at her voice, not having noticed her standing right behind you. you turn, admiring her side profile, she's got her hair up today, but still looks as expensive as the first time you saw her.

hideki blushes at his mom yelling at him, picking up his pace a little and jabbing eric, telling him to hurry up.

sana notices you staring at her and turns with a smile, "hi y/n. missed you this morning."

you fluster immediately, snapping your eyes away, "u-um sorry! i uh- got up early and didn't want to wake you and decided to get breakfast early on my own before making sure all the kids were awake."

she pouts, "you should've woken me. we could've had breakfast together."

"s-sorry i'll remember for next time."

"next time? you planning on waking up next to me again y/n?"

you can hear the teasing tone in her voice without needing to look at her, "i meant tomorrow! tomorrow morning."

sana giggles next to your ear, relenting when hideki and eric finally finish up, slightly out of breath when they come up to you, hideki apologising to you profusely, almost bowing down in the hotel hallway while holding all his heavy gym bags before you stop him, embarrassed enough by his mother watching the interaction closely with a curious glint in her eyes.

by the time you get downstairs nayeon already has most of the kids on the bus, reprimanding the two late boys again before letting them go and telling them to get on the bus as well. she had claimed her sickness was miraculously cured overnight, and that all she needed was a good night's sleep in a hotel room by herself.

she had teased both you and sana, asking sana innocently if she'd want to change rooms again now that she wasn't sick, but sana had said it'd be too much work and she didn't mind sharing a room with you anyway. nayeon elbowed you making an exaggerated show of her eyebrows wriggling around when sana wasn't looking, winking and looking all too satisfied with herself. you ignored her, strutting ahead and onto the bus, crossing your arms and pouting.

sana comes up next, giggling at you and plopping down on the seat next to yours. thankfully, the bus ride to the stadium wouldn't take long this time, the ride here was almost 5 hours long, and sana had taken a liking to sleeping on your shoulder almost the entire way there. you were stiff and couldn't wait to fall into bed when nayeon pulled her sick move and ruined your plans of being able to relax, not possible in the presence of the other woman.

the kids are rowdy and energetic, hyping each other up on the bus. you have to tell them to quieten down a few times but you let them get away with most of what they do, smiling at the sight of them so eager for their game.

when you arrive, nayeon's the first to stand, using her loud voice and commanding attention, her voice that should've been at least a little hoarse from her apparent sickness yesterday.

"alright! remember you're representing your school district now! and you're sharing this space with other people so i don't want to hear you guys as loud as you were on this bus okay? i won't hesitate to bench anyone who fools around too much and that means you won't get to play and you'd have come all this way for nothing understand?"

nayeon really was strict as a teacher, but you knew she loved her job as much as you did.

the kids nod, determined to be good, adrenaline running from the excitement of almost getting to the court.

you step off the bus first, talking to the bus driver and letting them know when they can come back and pick you guys up to go back to the hotel. then the kids are hopping off the bus one by one, and you're making sure they don't run off or do anything stupid while waiting for everyone to assemble.

by the time the team is actually on the court and warming up, you're almost as excited as them, the atmosphere of the stadium hyping you up, sitting on the sidelines with towels and water bottles ready for their breaks. you had tried to study up a little on what exactly went on in basketball, the rules and the basics, the kids may not have a coach but you still wanted to be as supportive as you could even though your job only required you to supervise them safely between the venues and the hotel.

"have you come to a lot of these games?" you ask sana mindlessly, watching as the boys start doing practice shots and drills.

"yeah. i try to go to as many of deki's things as i can."

"that's very sweet. it's really good for the kids, when the parents show up to things they work hard for."

sana hums. "i try."

"he's lucky to have you."

"i think he may appreciate you a little more though." she teases, bumping shoulders with you.

you laugh, "he'll get over it. they all do."

"this has happened before?"

you shrug, "i swear i don't do anything out of the ordinary. maybe i'm just nicer than nayeon."

"so your type obviously isn't kids. what is it?" sana teases.

you blush, "i don't know. i don't really have one i think."

"oh come on. everyone says that. tell me the truth. i won't judge i promise."

you roll your eyes, smiling, "well... i think at this point in my life i just want someone who wants to settle down. i'm not that young anymore and i've already achieved what i wanted in my career so all i really want now is someone to share the rest of my life with."

"boring! c'mon gimme the juicy stuff. like personality, physical attributes." she pokes you with a grin on her face as well.

"fine fine. i guess when it comes to women i tend to like slightly older women, extroverted, good with kids obviously, i don't reaaaally care for all the physical stuff but probably someone around my height i guess."

"stand up for me."

you do as she asks, confused, then she stands up as well, stepping in almost eye-to-eye. you flush immediately. she brings her hand to measure the top of her head, knocking it against your forehead.

then she smirks, "so i'm pretty much your type then?"

you stutter, falling backwards and back into your seat, mumbling incoherently. sana giggles, sitting back down as well.

"if it's any consolation, my type in women tends to be slightly taller, good with kids, a little awkward, gets flustered easily, but loves her job."

you blink at her, still processing her words when the buzzer sounds signaling the start of the game.

sana winks, then turns her attention to the game, cheering on your school's team as they get in starting position. nayeon jogs over to join you both on the sideline bench, cheering as well. you put your muddled thoughts aside to focus on being there for the kids, but sana's confession? was it even a confession? never left the back of your mind.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

your school won. the boys are ecstatic, clapping each other on the back, streamers are thrown, the crowd is wild, loving the game they witnessed.

eventually, the stadium clears out while the boys cooldown. the janitors come and kick everyone off the floor soon enough, the kids still whooping and parading around their championship trophy, taking pictures with smiles all around.

you smile fondly as well, watching them leave the stadium, so proud of themselves. but then there's a cough behind you, and you turn, surprised to see hideki still there, not leading his team off on their victory lap.

"you okay hideki?"

the boy blushes, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, still in his team uniform, sweat running down his body.

"i um- i was actually wondering if we could talk?"

you frown, immediately concerned, "yeah of course. what's up?"

his eyes flit around, making sure the stadium is pretty much empty except for the janitors cleaning up after the game. and then he looks back at you, you're struck then how much he looks like sana, he has her nose, her eyes, you never noticed before but after spending more time with sana, you can start to see parts of her in her son.

he clears his throat again, obviously nervous, wringing his hands out, "u-um- so i promised myself that if we won this game, i'd finally be truthful to both myself and you. so um- ms. l/n... i think i'm in love with you!" he bows deeply with his confession.

you stand there, slightly in shock despite knowing about his feelings for a long time now. and then you feel terrible, having to reject him on what was supposed to be one of the highlights of his high school experience.

you tap his shoulder lightly, non-verbally asking him to straighten up, he flinches at the touch, eyes fierce when they meet yours.

"hideki... i'm sorry. i don't feel the same way about you. you're my student, i care about all of you equally, but never as more than a student."

his face breaks your heart, you see sana in him, it's almost like you made sana cry.

"is it my age? what if i graduated? would you be interested in me after i graduated?" he's desperate, reaching for any possibility where you could return his feelings.

you shake your head, offering a gentle smile, "i'm sorry hideki. i know you'll find the right person for you one day though. that person just isn't going to be me."

his head droops down, hair coming to cover his eyes as he stares down at his shoes, trying to hide his tears. "i understand. thank you for taking the time to listen to me ms. l/n. i'll get out of your hair now." and then he's jogging off behind you towards the exit.

you sigh, turning around, surprised to see sana there, frowning when she sees hideki in tears approaching her.

she looks between him and you in confusion, but hideki reaches her first. she cups his face, asking him what happened, but he refuses to speak, and sana brings him down into her hugging him and patting his back.

she glances at you then, still frowning. your heart sinks, not sure what sorts of conclusions she could be drawing, but knowing right now, it looked like you had said or done something that made her son cry.

she leads him away, you ache to tell her what really happened, but you know you should keep your distance for the sake of your student right now, you just pray sana doesn't think of you any differently.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

the rest of the day goes by in a blur. the boys go out for celebratory dinner. they notice their captain is a lot more down than usual, and they try cheering him up, playing games at dinner, laughing and teasing each other, but nothing seems to be working.

you couldn't help but feel a little guilty, and sana hadn't spoken to you since the game. you're not sure if it's on purpose or if she's just busy keeping the kids entertained and checking on hideki every once in a while, but not wanting to smother him with all his friends around. he doesn't seem to mind though, in fact he only responds to sana, even when his friends try and include him he stays quiet, picking at his food aimlessly.

when you get back to the hotel, you give a speech about how they shouldn't sleep too late even though you could understand their excitement still remaining from winning the championships, they still had to get up early tomorrow so you could take the bus back home. nayeon would normally give the speech since she was a little more threatening than you, but she was also currently wasted, having gone a little too hard on the celebrations with the boys. she was currently leaning on you, almost dozing off as you rattled off instructions and rules before sending them all off to their rooms.

sana's gone with them before you can speak to her, so you sigh, wrapping an arm around nayeon's waist and helping your friend back to her own room, setting her in bed and pulling the covers up, turning off the lights and leaving a cup of water next to her bedside for when she wakes up later.

you feel nervous going back to your own room, unsure of what sana thinks of you now.

you open the door, almost grateful to hear the shower on, indicating the other woman was cleaning herself up.

you anxiously start packing your things up, cleaning around the room a little and grabbing clothes for your shower.

the shower turns off and your heart rate increases tenfold. you still have some time before she comes out though, so you continue to busy yourself, cleaning anything and everything.

"y/n?"

you turn quickly at her voice, almost fainting at the sight of her wrapped only in a towel. you yelp, turning back around just as quickly, "s-sorry!"

sana giggles, padding up to her bed, "it's okay. i left my clothes out here."

you can hear the rustle of her towel being dropped and her starting to dress yourself. your face is burning up, trying desperately to clear your mind of thoughts of a very naked sana standing right behind you, probably watching you make a fool out of yourself.

"i'm dressed." she teases, plopping down onto her bed.

you turn with a sigh, but tense up when you realise her definition of dressed was a very thin camisole and shorts that really shouldn't be considered shorts.

sana smirks at your gaze, crossing her legs and watching the way your eyes follow the movement, drinking in the skin.

"so what happened with you and deki?"

your eyes snap back up to hers at the reminder, the guilt of it all coming back.

"i'm sorry- i didn't- i hope you know i didn't mean to-"

sana giggles, grabbing the towel to start drying her hair, "relax y/n. i figured as much. he wouldn't tell me what happened but i assume it had something to do with his feelings for you?"

you gulp, nodding, not trusting your voice.

"like you said at the game, he'll get over it."

"you're not mad at me?"

she frowns, "why would i be mad at you?"

"well i- i thought you were avoiding me at dinner and- i mean i did just reject your son-"

sana lets out a loud laugh, "i think i'd be more mad if you didn't reject him. and i wasn't avoiding you. were you looking for my attention y/n?" she teases, wringing out her hair.

"oh. i'm glad then. that you weren't avoiding me. i was worried." you mumble, ignoring her question, knowing she was just trying to get a reaction out of you.

she stands up, brushing her hair behind her shoulders, walking up to you slowly. "why were you worried?"

you focus on a spot on the hotel carpet, avoiding her gaze, "i didn't want you to think i was- i don't know- i just didn't want you to think of me differently i guess."

"why do you care what i think of you?"

you blush, "well- i mean- i- you're- you're a parent of my student."

sana hums, still moving closer at a painfully slow pace, "is that all i am to you?"

"uh- well- no... you're um- you're sana."

she giggles, now toe-to-toe with you. "i am."

you almost let out a gasp when her cool fingers touch your chin, tilting your head up slightly to look her in the eyes. her eyes search yours, then they move over your face, tracing your features. you lick your lips unconsciously, the tension between the two of you unable to be explained by a simple parent-teacher relationship, or even a friendship anymore.

"it's funny." her voice is lower now, spoken right onto your lips, there was no need for volume, you were only inches apart. "i almost wonder if my ex would've fallen for you too."

you're dizzy from being so close to her, mind playing catch up. "t-too?"

"yeah. hideki fell for you. i wonder if you could just have my whole family wrapped around your finger."

you gulp, not really following, just letting her do whatever she wanted to you.

she leans in even closer, eyes dropping to your lips.

"what about me?"

"w-what about you?"

"you rejected deki. how about me?"

you inhale shakily, "are you confessing?"

she smiles then, "was it not obvious?"

"no." you breathe out.

"why not?"

"you're too- you're unbelievable."

"what does that mean?"

"i literally can't believe you're real. that someone as perfect as you could exist."

sana giggles lowly at that, "there it is. do you know how long i've been waiting for you to just say how you feel about me?"

"w-what?"

"all that teasing, all the flirting, i paid nayeon to fake sick y'know?"

"you what?!"

she throws her head back, laughing fully now. your eyes follow the lines of her throat.

"deki talked about you all the time at home. i was curious to meet the maths teacher he was so obsessed with. and then i did. and you were just so adorable. i could tell you really loved what you were doing, and you really cared for all the kids. but i didn't want to ask you out in front of my son who has the biggest most obvious crush on you. so i resigned myself to thinking i probably wouldn't be able to see you again. and then you happened to be on this trip. so i tried everything i could to get closer to you, get to know you better, and you didn't disappoint. i can safely say i'm just as obsessed with you as hideki is, dare i say even more."

"y-you are?"

"mhm. and i knew you liked me too. you're almost as obvious as deki is." she giggles, "i was just waiting for you to do something about it. but you're too nice aren't you? didn't want anything that could be between us to affect your job and your relationship with the kids."

you hadn't even noticed sana had paid so much attention to you. she had picked you apart completely, you felt so exposed in front of her now, but it wasn't unwelcome, you were just embarrassed at the way you've acted around her, thinking how many times you've replied dumbly or said something stupid while she knew you had a crush on her. you cringe at the memories.

sana laughs again, poking at the scrunch in your nose, "so can you say it officially now?"

"say what?"

"don't play dumb with me. you know."

you whine, blushing still, but close your eyes, taking a breath again, "i like you sana. i think you're the most beautiful person i've ever seen and your personality and actions are just as consistent with your looks."

sana giggles again, and then all of a sudden, her lips are pressed against yours.

it's soft, sweet, she's curling a hand around your waist and the other around your neck. you weren't the greatest with words, that's why nayeon was the english teacher, but you try make up for it with your actions, pulling her into you deeper and wrapping your arms around her, smiling into the kiss.

sana returns the smile, reattaching your lips, kissing you easily, your lips slotting together with no rush, taking as much time as you wanted to explore each other.

that night, when you come out of your shower, you find sana curled up in your bed, patting the empty space next to her for you to squeeze into, making sure she had enough space so that she wouldn't fall off the edge. you find that she's a big cuddler, not that it should've surprised you, she was always a very physically affectionate person, and you were still getting used to being on the receiving end of all of it, but you adored it.

the next morning, you'll keep to your promise and wake sana up with a gentle kiss on her lips, brushing her hair out of her face and studying her sleeping features carefully, committing everything to memory, still in slight disbelief that such a woman felt the same way you did.

you talk over breakfast, finding yourself much more at ease now that you knew she knew how you felt about her. she still takes every opportunity to tease you though, loving the way you blushed and stuttered around her.

what's hard is deciding what to do after you get home. you still wanted to keep your distance from hideki so that he could get over you, and sana agreed, saying it would be best if the both of you kept your relationship a secret for now. she was almost excited, talking about how it would be exciting and fun to sneak around like kids again, having to hide your relationship.

she's right of course, but being with her specifically probably makes it ten times harder than it normally would. she'd come to your school with bunches of flowers and lunch, acting innocent and surprised when you have to hide her and find an empty classroom for you to spend the lunch date she springs on you. she'll never stop loving to tease you.

you finally tell hideki about 2 months into your relationship. he seems to take it okay, but when you're curled up in sana's bed later, she tells you he complained to her about how she 'stole his woman', and you both end up in a giggling fit, laughing at the turn of events. regardless, you're still grateful, grateful you were able to meet her, and somehow bewitch her into falling for you. you were the luckiest person alive, and only sana would disagree, saying that was only true for herself.

[luveline]

hi jade!! could we get some kbd!steve where r has had a long week at work or something like that and steve makes her favorite for dinner and she just gets all clingy and a little teary and all that mushy ushy stuff

KBD —mom!reader, 2k

The drive home feels longer, roads you’ve taken each week day for years metamorphosed into winding lanes and long stretches of tarmac. You stop at the small store just outside of your neighbourhood and attempt to pick out a treat for each girl and your sweet husband. 

It costs more than the tags say it will. Your bag breaks on the way to the car. You have to go back into the store to buy Steve another glass coke, but he deserves it. If you think about crying on the street that leads into yours, it’s your secret. 

The door opens before you’ve parked the car. Avery waits on the stoop, shifting from foot to foot in excitement. The second the car is off, she’s barrelling down the step of the house without shoes. 

“Ave! Babe!” you say, laughing as she pins you in place. “No, go back inside! It’s so cold out here!” 

“I couldn’t wait to see you!” she whines. 

Steve is there and down the steps immediately. He grabs her up and tosses her over his shoulder, laughing but clearly disapproving, “I didn’t even hear the door, just you yelling,” he says. “Shit, come on, come inside, it’s freezing!”

“Steve, you’re not wearing socks either.” 

“I had to save my girl. Where’d she go, did you see?” 

Avery giggles roaringly against his back. “Dad, put me down!” 

Steve gets Avery unharmed back inside of the house. He lets you pass and locks the front door, it’s creaking, stuck handle slammed up and key turned. He puts the chain on, like you’re being followed, checking the peephole before turning to you with this look, arms out and hands up, a sign of relief coursing through him. “My girl,” he says, cupping your face in both hands. 

You give a surprised smile. 

“I thought I was your girl!” Avery says.

“You are my girl,” Steve says, tipping your head to one side. He’s smiling like it’s his birthday, or like you just told him you found a hundred dollars in one of your pockets. “But mom’s my girl, I have a couple, you know?” He talks to Avery, stares at you. “I’m glad you’re home. I have a surprise for you and I hate waiting.”

“You do?” 

He squeezes your cheek and parts from you. “Ave, go get some socks. I’m gonna turn the heating up. Wait, let me feel those feet before you go.” 

“You are not touching my feet, you tickle.” 

“Then go get some socks on them! Gosh, you’d think I just left the front door unlocked or something, the way she ran out.” 

He shares a big smile. 

In the kitchen, the shutters are open. The lingering piles of yet to melt snow in the back yard make the whole room white, illuminating the family table, the fridge covered in magnet-pinned drawings and appointment cards, the sink and all the drying dishes. Poor Steve, he must do the dishes three times a day before you get home. 

There are things covered on the stove waiting to be reheated, and in the oven, you can see a large ceramic baking tray. 

“What are you making?” you ask. 

“That’s your surprise, honey. That and one more thing.” 

You shake your head, nonplussed. “What?” 

Steve opens the cabinet under the sink to unveil a bouquet of flowers. Which means he must’ve gotten four girls dressed to take to the store on a day where he hadn’t needed to. He must love you a whole lot to bother.

“What’s in the oven?” you ask. 

Steve puts the bouquet in its vase on the table for you to inspect. “Your favourite, duh. All the trimmings. Enough for you to have three helpings, if you want.” 

“What’s the occasion?”

“Since when do we need an occasion?” he asks, taking your wrist across the table. 

You give the flowers a good long analysis. Your favourite flowers too, with baby’s breath, carnations and peonies to bulk it out, all light pinks or whites, the odd light blue one tucked throughout. 

“I think I was having a bad day,” you say. 

“What?” he asks worriedly. “What’s wrong?” 

He should know not to ask you like that when you’re upset to begin with. He’s lucky you don’t burst into breathless sobs there and then, but your eyes go hot, your waterline fills, and he’s all to easy to collapse against for a hug. The bag at your elbow clinks against him. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

“Sure, honey, but what happened?” 

You sound squeezes as an orange for juice as you explain it, wobbly in his arms, “It’s just been such a long week, m’sorry, and I had a bad day, and I got you a glass coke from Ernie’s but the bag broke, so I had to go back in and tell them I smashed glass out there–”

“Maybe Ernie should get better bags,” he says. 

“Sorry. I shouldn’t cry over coke.” 

“No, you should never cry.” He encourages you back to kiss your nose, still smiling as he says, “Ever. They should make crying illegal, I don’t wanna see you doing it ever.” He taps you under the chin. “You’re home, cool? Nobody can bother you for the next two days, it’s just me, and your daughter, and your other daughter, and your other,” —he starts laughing as you do, infected— “daughter, and that baby. Also a daughter.” 

“Oh, yes. Who can forget my troop of girls,” you say, sniffling as he swipes under your eye with his thumb. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

You could tell him everything now, or you can save it up for tonight, tell his shoulder after dinner and a shower and a few hours of TV and chips. It’ll all feel less shitty then. And he’s drawn your attention where it should’ve been —where are your girls? 

“I’m okay. Thank you, handsome.” 

“Handsome.” He feels down your arm, pretty and warm among a cool-white kitchen. “Flirt. How about you go give your kisses and I’ll set the table?” 

“You sure?” 

He’s all smiles, it’s crazy. “The quicker I feed you the better, I’d wager. Kiss for luck?”

What luck? you think, but pout softly for a kiss that rocks your world regardless 

I’m a princess, you think, pushing the door that leads to the living room. Inside, Beth, the second eldest, is sitting with Wren, the baby. Wren is sitting on a playmat in a duckie covered onesie, smiling and giggling as Beth puts on a show. Beth’s holding an octopus toy and a Barbie, making them talk to one another in different voices. 

You don’t want to interrupt them, but Wren sees you over Beth’s head and starts doing the wiggly, nearly frantic things babies do when they’ve missed you. If you don’t grab her quickly she’ll burst into tears. 

“Beth!” you say, kneeling down beside her as you grab her sister. “Hi, bubby. What are you playing?” 

Beth reminds you that you’re beautiful, your smile on her lips as she says, “Mom! When did you come home?” 

“Just a few seconds ago.” You situate Wren on your chest for kissing, popping a few spares on Beth’s temple. “Okay? Good day?” 

“Great day!” 

“Good, I’m so glad.” 

Beth crawls to you to give you a hug from the side. Somewhere in the background, Avery calls, “Daddy! Dove is making a mess in my room AGAIN!” and Steve’s calling back, “Okay! I’ll be right there, Avery! Just gimme a minute!”

“DAD!” 

Wren gurgles at you. “Da?” she says. 

“Heard that, did you?” you ask her. 

Steve takes the long way, pushing into the living room and throwing a grin at the three of you on the floor. “Honey, I’ll be right back. The table’s set, okay? You can go sit down and I’ll start plating up.” He doubles back before he can leave, again staring at you with a smile. “Jesus, you’re perfect. I could just look at you forever.”

“Isn’t he charming?” you ask Beth. 

She gives an agreeable nod.  

The moment he’s gone you realise you actually don’t want him far away from you. It’s a strong feeling to understand it while bathed in love from two beautiful kids who missed you. Wren tries to kiss you, surely wanting one of her own, while Beth gets up and tries to persuade you too. 

“Come on, mommy. We can sit at the table.” 

So you go, mostly because she sounds adorable. You carry Wren to the table and find Steve’s already made her her soft food. You try to make baby food a few days worth at a time, but it’s nice to let her have little tastes of the same meal as everyone else. He’s blended some of the veggies into a bowl, sat cooled and waiting for her with a bib on the high chair. 

“Your daddy’s in great form today,” you mumble into her hair, sitting her down, and attempting to get the bib on her before she can grab her spoon. She’s enthusiastic, but not actually coordinated enough to use one yet. You sit down by the high chair to feed her. 

“Is it okay if I sit here?” Beth asks, taking your usual seat. 

“Yeah, of course. Want me to serve you now, or could you wait, bubby? Just until dad comes down.” 

Beth shakes her head. You forget sometimes that she’s not a baby, not a toddler, but a child big enough to grab her own knife and fork. “I’ll wait, just have some bread.” 

“Okay, bubby. Thank you. You gonna butter it yourself?” 

“Yeess,” she drags out. 

Steve brings Avery back, along with your last, grumpiest daughter, Dove. She isn’t necessarily miserable, just contrary. When she was Wren’s age she’d already mastered the word no, when she sees you, she glares at you, crying out in disbelief, “You’re in my seat!” 

“Come and sit on my lap, big girl, I gotta feed your sister.” 

“I don’t want to sit on your lap.” 

“That’s hurtful.” You pout at her with loving eyes. “Dove, didn’t you miss mommy? I missed you soooooo much.” 

Success. She climbs into your lap and lets you rub her arm while you can. Steve takes the seat on Beth’s other side, further away then you would’ve liked. He serves everybody their dinner, does it all beaming and fawning over his dinner guests. 

Your bad week fades away. By the time Steve’s stolen Wren-duty and you’ve finished your dinner, you’re feeling delightfully full and doubly loved. Like they know you need it, each of your daughters capable of doing so gives you a hug (or in Dove’s case, a kiss on the arm). 

Leaving you, and Steve, and baby Wren. 

“What do you think, milk?” he asks her. 

She seems to think it over. “Ba?” she asks. 

“Buppy? You want your buppy?” 

He pulls her out of her high chair, makes her a bottle of milk with her held to his chest, and then sits down in the chair next to you to cradle her and feed her a few ounces. 

“So,” he says, as though he isn’t exhibiting frankly audacious levels of dad-stamina and esteem, “about that long week, are you feeling okay?” 

You hold his wrist where he holds the baby. Wren’s getting so big, she takes up the length of his arm, a healthy chub around her neck and on her tummy. 

“Y/N?”

“I’m okay, yeah.” 

“Just got on top of you?” 

“Yeah, I guess so. Shit, I didn’t get you your coke or anything for dinner. I got the girls chips.” 

“It’s okay, we have time to spoil them. They ate tons.” 

“What was breakfast like after I left?” 

“Avery was so happy she didn’t have school I don’t think she noticed there were no fruit slices.” 

You fall into conversation. He leans against your shoulder as you rub the length of his arm, encouraging your clinging to the fullest extent. 

[queen-aluett]

Sleeping in the Shadows - a Shadow Milk x Reader One Shot

au where shadow milk is a sleep paralysis monster, kinda like the boogeyman

You couldn’t sleep.

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t sleep.

You had multiple instances of getting out of bed to get a snack, some water, go to the bathroom, or just do whatever. All in that order, over and over. Staring up at your ceiling, you let out a long and loud sigh. Your eyes fluttered a bit then you decided you’d try counting sheep. That always worked, right?

1…

2…

3…

4…

5?

Oh, wait.

You suddenly remembered an old urban legend you heard told multiple times in multiple different ways. It even had an episode about it on an old tv show you used to watch as a kid that was all about scary stories. The story was about a strange cookie called Shadow Milk. Legend has it he’d come for those who couldn’t sleep, and counting sheep was one of the ways to summon him. Depending on how many you counted before you gave up, he’d appear to you and ask you which of the sheep you counted is real, and which one is just an illusion. If you guessed correctly, you’d be rewarded. If not, you’d be dragged either in your closet or under your bed, into his spire, and he’d turn you into his puppet to dance in his twisted shows forever and ever.

Some versions of the story would have him come to those who played card games at sleepovers, in some he’d come to those who were up past their bedtime, which was the version you watched in the tv show. In some you could just summon him by putting a joker card in front of your closet door, telling a good amount of lies and then sliding it under, and of course the game with the sheep would begin, with the amount of lies being the same amount of sheep that were present. Sometimes, instead of sheep, you’d have to answer questions, and if your answer was a lie, his appearance would become more and more terrifying, before he finally took you and made you his puppet. But no need to reminisce on the past, that’s just a little legend anyways. It’s a nice story, but it’s not real at all!

Right?

You smiled remembering that show you used to watch and the one episode that actually managed to scare you, which wasn’t the one about Shadow Milk, oddly enough. Your sweet nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a bleat. You jolted up in terror and looked around, only to see there was nothing there. You calmed your breathing and laid back down. “Maybe I should stop thinking about that, for now, at least.” You mumbled to yourself as you stretched your back in your bed. After a moment of silence, you heard the sound of a music box. Only problem is,

You don’t own a music box.

And you’ve never heard that melody before.

Peeking out over your covers, you were too afraid to even move. You had no idea where that music was coming from, and you did NOT wanna find out anytime soon! You covered yourself up with the blankets and laid under there nice and still, covering your mouth with your hands. A blue glow was coming from outside, but no matter what, you’d never take them off. The music came to a halt after what felt like way longer than the minute it was playing for. You peeked an eye out from your hiding spot, and there was nothing there. You shuffled out of hiding and went back to sleep as normal, convincing yourself you were just sleep deprived.

“Well there you are…~”

What… was that? WHO was that? You opened your eyes, and a man in a blue harlequin outfit sat in front of you on the edge of your bed. He smiled at you and your closet in front of you was full of glowing blue eyes watching you. “There’s no way…” you thought to yourself. “A-are you… n-no… no it can’t be… shadow-“

“Shadow Milk Cookie? The great and powerful? Who else?” You lay there, eyes widened. You could not believe it! The very urban legend himself, right in your house, right at your bed, right now! “Yes, yes, hold your applause. I heard someone can’t sleep. Someone’s been a bad, bad cookie, huh? Good cookies should be put to bed right away, but look at you, all wide awake like it’s nothing!” Your voice was shaky as you replied, “I- I’m sorry, I, I promise I was trying to g-go to sleep but I-“ He interrupted and held a finger up to you, “Shhhhh… I know, Y/N Cookie, I know. Which is why… we’re gonna play a game! Since you know me so so so so so well, I think you know what you’ve got to do, yes?” You nodded “Yeah. I gotta figure out the sheep that’s not fake, got it.” He clapped his hands, “What a smart cookie you are! Oh, you must be a HUGE fan! Let’s see… what number did you count to? Five? Ah yes, Five!” Shadow Milk snapped his fingers, and on cue 5 sheep came out of your closet. You didn’t really want to think about how this was possible, you wanted to focus on figuring it out. “Think reeeeeal hard, Y/N Cookie. You got this!”

You looked real hard at each one, eyes scanning over the herd. Their blue eyes eerily glowed as you tried hard to spot the odd one out, but they all just looked so similar, you had no idea. Your index finger began to tremble as a tear formed from your fear. You really didn’t feel like being turned into a puppet. The idea of being bound to strings and losing all your will was… everything but pleasant. “Awww~ There, there, Y/N Cookie.” He began to pat you on the head, “There’s no need for those crocodile tears! You’ve got all the time in the world! Unless… that is, unless I get too bored waiting!” You swallowed, and went with your gut and made a decision. “That one! That one there!”

“Oh?”

Your finger was pointed to the second sheep in the row. “I-it’s that one. I-I think that one is the real… sh-sheep…” You almost began to hyperventilate. There was no going back now. You looked to Shadow Milk Cookie, who was smiling. He stood there, watching you shiver with anticipation. The silence felt like an eternity till he began to slowly clap his hands and opened his mouth.

“So you HAVE been listening to the whispers of deceit!”

You sighed in relief. “So I… So I got it right?” He nodded his head, “Mmhmm, mmhmm, mmhmm! That’s right! Look at you! Such a good (girl/boy/cookie), doing the homework! I’m so proud of you!” He gave you a pat on the back, which made you flinch a bit. “Well, now that playtime’s over, I think it’s only fair I give you the sweet relief of slumber you crave.” He took a fistful of something out of his pocket, “But rest assured, I will be back, and I cannot wait to play with you again! Now then… Ready, Y/N?” You sighed and laid down on your bed, falling onto the pillow. “Heh! I’ll take that as a “yes” then!” He opened up his hand and blew a shiny blue powder in your direction. The blue dust made you sleepier and sleepier till you couldn’t help but drift off. Shadow Milk Cookie turned to exit from your closet into his Spire of Deceit. He turned his head to get a good look at how peaceful his new playmate looked all bundled up with their head in the dream world.

“I shall see you later~!”