#but hopefully this is something you wanted!!!!

[smileysuh]

fuck your ex

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol & Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “Cuddles don’t hurt either,” Mingyu muses, pulling you to his chest. “If we get to your bedroom and you decide you just want someone to be with, I’m not going to pressure you. I know I said the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but, skin to skin contact - even if it’s not sexual - can be an amazing way to get over an ex too.”

tw/cw. Protected sex, unprotected sex, pussy eating, fingering, hand job, dry humping, grinding, foreplay, threesome, bathroom sex, using a shower head as a vibrator, multiple sex scenes, multiple reader orgasms, slight cum kink, Cheol cum’s on reader’s chest, size kink, dirty talk, praise, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 7.3k 

🍭 aus. Non idol au, cop au, poly au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I know cops are a touchy subject, but I've had this idea for months, and I figured it's fan fiction so hopefully it's just a fun au :)

Prologue

You’re so busy blasting nostalgic break-up music that you’re not paying attention to how fast you’re driving down the speedway. The loud Kelly Clarkson song drowns out your sorrows, but it doesn’t drown out the sound of the siren when a Police car lights up behind you.

“Fuck!” you scream, immediately turning down your stereo and pulling over onto the shoulder of the road.

Your heart is racing in your chest- being pulled over isn’t something you’re used to, and you fumble to roll your window down while two cops exit their vehicle and approach.

You wipe at your eyes, which are tearing up again, and you reach for your purse to pull out your license.

The man standing next to your window leans down to look at you, and you try to flash him a smile. His expression is cold, blank even. “Do you know how fast you were going?” he asks.

Now, your heart sinks. It’s such a direct question, and for some reason it makes you snap. You can feel tears begin to roll down your cheeks, your skin heating in embarrassment at having been caught doing something wrong.

“Officer- I’m so sorry, I don’t know how fast I was going- I just broke up with my stupid ex-boyfriend, and I was listening to some breakup music to distract myself from how I’m feeling, and I wasn’t paying attention-”

The second cop pulls up to your window, and the two of them exchange a glance while you cry and blab your reasoning behind doing something wrong.

“Are you headed home?” the second officer, whose nametag reads ‘KIM’, asks. 

“Yeah, I just went to get a bottle of wine, and now I’m going home to drink and watch movies and cry myself to sleep,” you admit, voice shaky.

“Have you had anything to drink tonight?”

“No, sir.” 

The first officer, ‘CHOI’, sighs, and you see him scan the surrounding freeway. “We’re going to let you off with a warning,” he says finally. “It’s late, there’s hardly anyone driving right now- you were doing the wrong thing by speeding, but it sounds like your day is already pretty shit as it is.”

“Really?” You blink up at him, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “No ticket?”

“No ticket,” Choi confirms. “But don’t get caught doing this sort of thing again.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Good luck with your wine and your movies,” Kim nods, and with that, the two officers go back to their vehicle.

You wait patiently, watching them in your rear-view mirror as they pull out and drive past you. Only then do you release a deep breath.

One

“Oops!” You let out a squeak as you turn from the bartop and nearly run straight into someone. Your drink sloshes over the edge of your glass, coating your fingers in fruity liquid.

“My bad,” the tall man immediately apologizes, steadying you with a hand on your hip.

Your eyes meet, and your heart leaps into your throat. It’s not common to see men who are this attractive out and at bars-

“Wait, have we met before?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

“I’d remember if we had,” you retort quickly.

The man cocks his head to the side, and after a moment of studying you, his face lights up. “Wait, I remember! You’re that chick we caught speeding two or three months back! The one who’d just had a breakup!” 

Your eyes widen as the memory washes over you. As you look up at this tall man, you realize he’s right. You hadn’t recognized him at first, without his officer hat and uniform he looks much more boyish.

“I’m Mingyu,” the large man says, holding out a hand. Without a second thought, you shake it,  which is when you remember your skin is still sticky from your spilled drink. 

“Shit, sorry-” you apologize. 

Mingyu only laughs. “You’re still a bit of a hot mess, aren’t you?”

“Unfortunately,” you agree with a sigh.

“Are you here with people?” he asks next, looking around. 

“Waiting on some friends.”

“Want to come join me and Cheol for a bit while you wait?”

“I really couldn’t-” you try to side step the question, but Mingyu insists, and soon, you find yourself seated at a table with the two sexy cops who had let you off with a warning three months ago. 

“This is the chick who was speeding, the Kelly Clarkson break-up one,” Mingyu introduces you to his buddy, and you watch recognition blossom over his face. 

“Y/N,” you correct, swallowing thickly. “My name is Y/N.”

“Seungcheol,” the stoic cop says, introducing himself. “How’ve you been?”

“Better than that night,” you admit, feeling a little off that they’re so interested in you.

“You’d be surprised how often we pull over girls for speeding after rough breakups,” Mingyu tells you, easing your anxiety a bit. “It must have been a pretty shitty split to have been driving the way you were.”

“It was bad,” you admit with a frown. “In fact… I still don’t think I’m fully over it.”

You’re not sure what’s come over you, what’s bewitched you to the point where you’re divulging your personal secrets to two strangers, and cops no less-

“Fuck your ex,” Seungcheol grunts, taking a sip of his beer.

Mingyu nods. “Fuck your ex.”

You swallow thickly, lifting your drink. “Fuck my ex.” 

You wish your voice sounded more confident, but Mingyu flashes you a smile regardless, clinking his beer to your cocktail. 

Your shoulders relax a little as you sip on your drink, and Mingyu begins asking you very surface-level questions. It’s clear he’s doing his best to make you feel welcome while you wait for your friends, who arrive after about fifteen minutes of chat.

“Well, my girls are here,” you announce.

“Shame, we were enjoying your company,” Seungcheol muses, and his words make your skin heat. He’s quiet, or at least, not as much of a talker as Mingyu is- 

“Hey listen,” Mingyu distracts you, pulling out a pen and paper, where he begins to scribble a few numbers, “you know what they say, the best cure to get over someone is to get under someone else. If you ever need one of us, or both, shoot us a text or something.”

You’re in complete shock as he hands you the slip of paper, wherein two phone numbers and names are written. 

“Are you…” you swallow thickly, looking between the men, “is this kind of behavior allowed from cops?”

Mingyu flashes you a wink. “We’re off duty.” 

Two

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admit, opening the door to your apartment, allowing Mingyu inside.

He only chuckles, pulling you into a hug. You let out a breath, relaxing against his chest. Once you feel a little more settled he releases you, pinching your cheek gently, in a shockingly affectionate way. “You’re getting over your ex,” Mingyu says softly. “Everyone needs to take that step sometime, I’m just glad you reached out to me instead of some tinder dick head.”

“Yeah, cuz a cop is so much better than some online random,” you roll your eyes.

“I’m definitely better than some online random,” he agrees. 

“This isn’t very cop like of you,” you point out, watching Mingyu remove his jacket.

“I’m not just my profession,” Mingyu says smoothly. “I’m a hot blooded male, and you’re a cute girl who needs some rescuing.”

You cock a brow, amused. “Rescuing?” 

“Uh huh.”

“And you’re going to rescue me with what? Your cock?” You’re giggling already, and Mingyu joins in.

“Cuddles don’t hurt either,” Mingyu muses, pulling you to his chest. “If we get to your bedroom and you decide you just want someone to be with, I’m not going to pressure you. I know I said the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but, skin to skin contact - even if it’s not sexual - can be an amazing way to get over an ex too.”

You can’t help yourself, you lean forward, going on your tiptoes to press your lips to Mingyu’s. He kisses you back immediately, cupping your cheek with one large hand. It’s a gentle kiss, the kind of kiss that tells you you’re safe, and you realize how right Mingyu is- maybe you just needed a companion, someone to distract you from how lonely single nights can be.

Even so, the two of you make your way to your bedroom, and you find yourself shockingly shy as you invite Mingyu into your bed.

You’re in comfy clothes, but Mingyu isn’t, and he toys with the hem of his shirt as you get under your covers. “Should I take this off?” he asks.

“Whatever you want,” you agree, watching him carefully.

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he explains.

“It won’t,” you tell him, in fact, you’re curious as to what he looks like under his shirt.

A minute later, you’re rewarded by getting a full view of Mingyu’s beautiful body. He’s all muscle, but it’s not the kind of muscle you gain just in a gym. No, Mingyu has a work hardened physique, what some might identify as practical muscle, and it’s clear he doesn’t skimp on food either. He’s perfectly built, you decide, as he gets into bed next to you, immediately pulling you to his broad chest.

You release a deep breath, one you didn’t know you’d been holding.

A large hand strokes along your back, and Mingyu gives you space to just be quiet and enjoy his presence. 

Finally, though, you get to the point where you can’t contain yourself any longer. You look up at him, and Mingyu mirrors the motion. It’s like he can already read you, and you wonder if that’s due to him having a lot of experience with girls, or psychological cue reading as a cop. Either way, he leans down to kiss you, and you melt into it, letting out a pleased groan.

Mingyu returns the sound with one of his own, his tongue gliding across your lip. You open up for him, shifting so you’re half on his chest while the kiss deepens. Mingyu’s hands find your waist, and he pulls you fully on top of him, your knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips.

It’s been so long since you kissed someone, but your body easily picks up the natural instinct again. Mingyu is just so sexy- in no time at all, you’re wriggling on top of him, eager for stimulus against your already aching core. 

You find yourself completely relaxed, but completely on edge at the same time. It’s an odd contrast. Mingyu makes you feel comfortable, without fear, and yet- he also sets you on fire in the best of ways. Each touch is like electric shivers across your body, and you can’t help the way you’re moaning from just a bit of kissing and dry humping.

“Wait,” Mingyu’s voice makes you stop, and you pull away, looking down at him with confusion. “I think- before we fuck or anything, I think you should let me eat you out. I bet you’re tired of toys and fingers, and I want tonight to be about making you feel good.”

He’s literally prince charming. Like- how did you ever find this sexy giver. 

You swallow thickly. “We can do that.”

Mingyu kisses you again, and then he rolls on top of you, pinning you to the bed. You love the way his hands skim across your body, teasing across your waist and ribcage. 

“Can I take your clothes off?” he asks.

“Maybe… uh… maybe just my pants for now?” You’re not sure why you want to leave your shirt on, but that’s the boundary you’re comfortable with right now, and Mingyu doesn’t question it. He presses another kiss to your lips before sliding down you form, hooking his fingers in your sweatpants to drag them down your body.

The large man adjusts between your legs, peppering your newly exposed skin in soft kisses.

Your core is throbbing in your panties, and you bite your lip when his breath fans across your pussy.

“These off next?” he asks, looking up at you.

“Yeah.” The word comes out a whisper, your body tight with suspense.

Mingyu pulls your panties down slowly, and the cool air of the room on your exposed core  makes you twitch.

Large hands smooth up your calves and thighs, and Mingyu’s eyes meet yours as he closes the distance to your pussy. You hold your breath, waiting-

The first lick of your clit makes your toes curl, and you moan deeply, earning a smile from the man who’s clearly intent on devouring you.

“I kind of like being told what to do,” Mingyu explains, kissing your inner thigh. “So if you have anything you want me to do, just say something.”

“I will,” you promise, shifting your hips to get your core closer to his face again.

Mingyu takes the motion as a direction in and of itself, and he immediately puts his mouth back on you, but this time, it’s not a kitten lick. There’s no hesitation now, it’s clear you want this, and Mingyu dives in, pressing his tongue into your core.

You groan, thighs already shaking at how good it feels.

Your hands reach down, tangling in his soft hair, and Mingyu releases a moan of his own. The vibration from it goes straight to your clit, and you whimper. 

“You’re good at this,” you tell him, doing your best to be verbal, as it’s pretty clear Mingyu’s a verbal sex kind of guy.

He rewards your words by sucking his lips around your clit, flicking at it with his tongue.

“Can you…” you shift slightly, “your fingers-”

Mingyu adjusts, focusing on your clit with his mouth while a finger strokes between your pussy lips. He eases it into your wet core slowly, being gentle with you while ravaging your sensitive bud.

Your eyes close at the feeling, your head thrown back against your pillows. “That’s good-” you tell him, groaning when he slips a second digit into your pussy.

You can feel him smile against your clit, working his fingers up toward your gspot with each calculated thrust.

You’re supposed to be using Mingyu to get over your ex, but you can’t help the way you compare them- how had you ever thought sex with your ex was good? He’d never eaten you out like this- never prioritized your pleasure- fuck, you haven’t even had sex with Mingyu yet, and you’re already convinced it’s going to be mind blowing.

Releasing a breath, you focus on Mingyu, focus on the feeling building deep in your core. 

One thrust has Mingyu’s fingers hitting the exact right spot, and you let out a squeal of delight. “Right there- fuck- right there!”

Mingyu does as he’s told, repeatedly hitting the spot that draws you closer to your orgasm with record speed. His mouth on your clit is also pure pleasure, and before you even know it, you’re releasing a groan. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- don’t stop, please-”

Your words break off as your high slams into you, moans of ecstasy escaping as your body surges with pleasure. Your pussy is pulsing deliciously around Mingyu’s fingers and he works you through your orgasm like an absolute champ. He’s unrelenting, fully focused on drawing out your pleasure until you’re practically shaking.

Mingyu pulls away, and you let out a shaky gasp, opening your eyes to look down at the gorgeous man. His expression is one of pure lust, and you watch him wipe his mouth with the back of his palm. 

“You taste like peaches, baby,” he tells you, straightening onto his knees at the foot of your bed.

You don’t say anything, you only motion for Mingyu to come closer, and you grab the back of his neck, drawing his lips to yours so you can taste yourself on his tongue.

He moans into the kiss, and you writhe beneath him, hooking your leg over his hip.

Mingyu begins to grind down against you, and you can feel how hard he is in his jeans. You love that eating you out had that kind of effect on him, and you find yourself reaching down to cup his cock.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, breaking the kiss to breathe heavily, pressing his forehead against yours. “Are we going to do this? You can still back out-”

“We’re doing this,” you confirm.

“Okay, give me a sec.” Mingyu pulls away from you and you whimper at the loss. “Wanna take your shirt off now, while I take off my pants?”

“Yeah,” you agree, immediately working on the remainder of your clothing.

You’re naked in seconds, and you watch Mingyu step out of his jeans next to the bed. He’s produced a condom from his pants, and you watch with bated breath while he rolls it onto one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever seen in person- in fact, it might be the biggest cock, and your core throbs at the mere thought of it. 

“I’m on birth control, and I’m clean,” you find yourself saying softly, toying with the fact of unprotected sex.

“Me too,” Mingyu breathes. “But, it’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

Leave it to the cop to be safe, you guess that’s a good thing, but part of you sinks at the idea of not being filled with his cum.

Mingyu gets on top of you again, kissing you deeply. 

Your legs wrap tight around his body, and with pressure, you prompt him to grind down against your core again.

The feeling of his cock gliding between your soaked pussy lips is amazing- and you do your best to ignore the sensation of the condom. 

He kisses you for a long time, until you’re aching for him from the grinding, and finally, you can’t take it anymore. “Please,” you whimper, looking up at him. “I need you.”

“Anything you want, baby,” he says, pressing his lips to yours again while he adjusts ever so slightly, pushing his hand between your bodies so he can grab the base of his cock and line it up with your core.

He starts by rubbing it between your pussy lips, lubricating himself before pushing just the tip inside of you.

You moan against his mouth, shocked at the stretch. It’s clear from Mingyu’s gentle, controlled motions, that he’s used to giving grace for his size, and he slowly works you open more and more, sinking inch after inch of himself into your core.

His kisses are a wonderful distraction, and you focus on relaxing, allowing your body to open up for the large cock. 

When his front is flush to your own, his cock completely buried inside of you, you both release groans of pleasure.

The kiss breaks, and you pant against each others lips, opening your eyes to look at each other.

“You good?” he asks.

“Good,” you nod. “You can move.”

Mingyu lets out a shaky breath, and after a moment, he begins to fuck you. 

Each thrust is euphoria, his cock dragging against your inner walls deliciously. Mingyu begins to kiss you again, and you grab at his strong shoulders, clutching him desperately while he fucks you into your mattress. 

“You’re so tight,” Mingyu groans, lips moving to your neck. He licks at your sweet spot, and you shiver, wrapping your legs around him even tighter.

“You’re just so big-” you counter.

“Maybe a bit of both,” he admits with a chuckle.

You don’t mind that you’re in missionary, don’t mind that he fucks you stupid this way- it’s a very intimate position, and once again, the thought of your ex pops back into your mind. 

You realize, as the two of you get closer and closer to your highs, that maybe you weren’t ready for this- you don’t regret it, but you’re clearly not over your ex in the way you’d wished you would be at this point.

Maybe Mingyu’s just too soft, too gentle, too domestic- 

It’s not his fault, he’s being sweet to you, but maybe sweet isn’t what you needed, not really. It just makes you miss being in a relationship.

The two of you cum together, and you hate that you’re still distracted. You wish you could give all your focus to Mingyu, after all, it’s clear he’s completely zoned in on you, but it is what it is.

If nothing else, he’d distracted you for a little, given you perhaps the best dick and pussy eating of your life- and as the two of you cuddle up to fall asleep, it’s a small blessing at least that you’re not sleeping alone.

Three

You’re at a bar waiting for your takeout when you run into the most unlikely person.

Seungcheol is dressed in work out clothes, a loose shirt, sweatpants, and a baseball cap, but he still looks downright lickable. His strong shoulders- the handsome face only partially hidden by his cap- he’s so recougnizable, and it’s clear he knows who you are too, because he walks over.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you retort, playing with the straw of your cocktail. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t expect to see you either,” he admits with a laugh, and you’re delighted at how his smile lights up his face. “You waiting on food?”

“Yeah, just a dinner order, figured I’d get one drink while waiting.”

He nods. “I’m waiting for food too. Just came from the gym, didn’t feel like cooking.”

“I get that,” you agree, looking down at your drink.

“You eating alone tonight?” he asks. “We could always just ask the kitchen to switch our orders, you know, get a table, eat here.”

“Are you asking me to have dinner with you?” you grin.

“If you’re up for that sort of thing,” he shrugs.

“You know what?” You let out a sigh. “Let’s do it.”

Seungcheol grins, and after talking with the bartender, you find him leading you over to a booth, having sorted everything out.

He’s got a beer now, and you’re enthralled with the way he looks while taking a sip.

He’s just so masculine- you’re extremely attracted to Seungcheol. He’d been kind of scary while dressed in work attire, but this gym outfit is much more your style. 

“So,” he starts, releasing a breath. “Heard you saw Mingyu last week.”

Your skin heats with embarrassment. “Oh, yeah.”

“Don’t be shy,” Seungcheol grins, reaching across the table to nudge your hand. “I don’t judge. He’s my best friend, and we talk, so of course he mentioned it.”

“And now… you’re having dinner with me,” you point out. 

Seungcheol shrugs. “Mingyu’s not the jealous type.”

“Are you?”

Seungcheol leans back against the booth, cocking his head to the side. He grins, and it’s one of the sexiest expressions you’ve ever seen. “I can be,” he admits. “It depends on the situation.”

You swallow thickly, reaching for your drink, in need of some sort of reprieve for the way your throat has gotten dry. “Do you and Mingyu do this a lot?” you find yourself asking.

“Do what a lot?”

“Go after the same girl?” you clarify.

Seungcheol takes a moment, and you can tell he’s deep in thought about how to approach this line of questioning. “It’s happened once before,” he admits. “Definitely not a regular thing.”

“Tell me about last time,” you suggest, interested in the story now.

“Not much to say,” Seungcheol shrugs. “He and I have been friends forever. In university there was this one girl, she wanted us both so we figured it would be interesting.”

“Was it? Interesting?”

Seungcheol flashes you a dark look, the kind of look that says ‘are you serious?’

“It was fun,” he says finally. “But, the conditions have to be perfect for sharing to work.”

You’re about to ask for more details, but your waitress comes over with your food, so you put your questions on the back burner.

Seungcheol had ordered a salad with four extra chicken breasts, and you stare at him in shock for a while.

“What?” he asks, taking a bite.

“I’ve just never seen someone order greens and four orders of chicken,” you admit.

“It’s good for you,” Seungcheol insists. “Protein.”

You look down at your rice bowl, letting out a sigh. 

“Bet you’re wishing you’d got what I got,” Seungcheol teases. 

“Never,” you laugh.

“Anyways, I bet you’re wondering about the conditions that make threesomes work,” Seungcheol sighs, returning to the topic at hand.

“I’ll admit, I’m curious. When you and Mingyu gave me your numbers, you did say I could have both of you if I wanted.”

“You still can, but I wouldn’t be shocked if you wanted to stick it with Mingyu. It wouldn’t offend me. He’s better with girls than I am.” You love how direct Seungcheol is about this, and it shows a good sense of self for him to be able to admit he’s not as much of a lady killer as his friend.

“Why do you think he’s better with girls?” you inquire.

“Most girls like that whole puppy dog thing. He’s a giver, and I respect that.”

“And you’re not a giver?” you toy, cocking a brow.

“More of a taker really,” Seungcheol admits, flashing you a grin. “If you’re interested in that sort of thing.”

“Honestly?” You let out a sigh, relaxing back against the booth. “That might be just what I need right now.”

Four

Seungcheol’s mouth is hot on yours before you’re even inside your apartment. He’s all teeth and tongue and grabby, greedy hands. But there’s something so exciting about him as he pushes your front door closed with his foot, wrapping you up in his strong arms and lifting you off the floor, prompting your legs around his hips.

There’s no talking, no assuring you that you don’t have to fuck-

You know you’re both here to fuck each other’s brains out, and it makes things simple as he carries you to your room.

To your surprise, however, he doesn’t take you to your bed. “Where’s your shower?” he asks, breaking the kiss to look around.

“Through there,” you point to the door to your ensuite, and Seungcheol follows your directions. Once in the bathroom, he sets you on the sink, and you flash him a questioning look.

“I showered at the gym, but still,” Seungcheol says, tearing his shirt off from the back of the neck. “I feel like shower sex is a good way to go about this.”

“I don’t usually like shower sex,” you point out.

“Well, you will with me, baby, trust me on that.” Seungcheol slips out of his sweatpants and briefs, his cock rising to attention. “Come here,” he instructs, pulling you off the sink.

His lips are feverish on your own, and he undresses you as quickly as he’d undressed himself. His hands grope your breasts, and he leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth while you thread your fingers through his hair.

“Now turn the shower on,” he commands.

You step toward the shower, following through- and you feel Seungcheol’s hulking, built body behind your own. His chest presses to your back, and his hands begin to explore your form while the water heats.

You tilt your head to give him access to your throat while one hand massages your breast, and the other slips down to your core, teasing through your pussy lips.

“Wet already,” he muses with a grin. “Mingyu said you’re a sensitive one.”

A tingle of sinful delight rushes through you.

You wonder how many details Mingyu shared- you wonder if Seungcheol’s been eager to get a taste of you for himself.

The water begins to steam, and with a nudge, Seungcheol prompts you inside. He joins you quickly, pinning you to the wall while his lips devour your own.

He breaks the kiss a short time later, looking up at your detachable shower head, then a grin spreads across his face. “Guess I can be a giver today, but don’t tell anyone,” he teases, taking the shower head off.

You’re not even shocked when he brings it between your thighs, wet pressure surging up against your clit while you squeal in shock.

Seungcheol bends down, capturing your nipple between his lips again.

“Fuck, this feels good-” you groan, gasping and grinding down against the shower head.

“I’ll let you cum first, because when it’s my turn, it’s my turn,” he warns. 

“Whatever you want,” you tell him, enjoying the way his mouth returns to your breasts.

He’s so rough, but it feels so good as the pressure from the shower continues on your clit. The dual feeling of his lips around your nipple, and the pressure on your sensitive bud has you getting close to the edge shockingly fast.

Seungcheol - like Mingyu - seems able to read you, and he adjusts, bringing a hand between your thighs. Two fingers slip into your wet core, and he focuses on applying the water to your clit while he begins to finger fuck you.

“Fuck,” you groan, clawing at the wall, trying to stay standing while he works you closer and closer-

“Want to see you cum,” he says. “Want to see you come undone on this fucking shower head and my fingers before I take what’s mine.”

Your stomach flip flops at the possessive tone, your breath coming out in a shocked gasp.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, baby?” Seungcheol asks. “Tonight, you’re mine. Don’t want you thinking about Mingyu, or that stupid fucking ex of yours. It’s just you and me, and if I see you drifting, I’ll bring you right back here, with me, got it?”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly.

“Such a good girl for me, grinding against my hand-” he groans. “I can see how close you are.” He leans forward, his lips ghosting past your ear. “I’ll admit though, I’m not a very patient man.”

Your skin tingles at his words, and you find yourself reaching for his cock, using the water as lubrication as you begin to stroke him off.

“That’s it,” Seungcheol says, voice low. “I be good to you, you be good to me, that’s the way this should be, don’t you think?”

“Uh huh,” you nod, closing your eyes as your abdominal muscles tense, warning you of your oncoming orgasm.

“Squeezing me so good, come on, baby, cum on my fingers.”

Seungcheol’s hand works even harder, digits stroking your sweet spot- and that’s all you need to be thrown over the edge.

You let out a strangled gasp, your orgasm slamming into you.

“That’s it,” Seungcheol groans, pressing his forehead against yours while he works you through your high. “Keep cumming for me, baby.”

You couldn’t stop even if you wanted to- your entire body is Seungcheol’s to control, and he prolongs your orgasm until you’re a shaking mess. 

You can hardly stand, but that doesn’t matter, Seungcheol puts the shower head back and simply picks you up. “I don’t have a condom on me,” he explains, sinking you onto his cock and releasing a hissing sound of pleasure, “so I’m just going to have to pull out and paint your chest.”

“Whatever you want,” you tell him, drawing his lips to your own as he begins to fuck you against the wall of your shower.

His fingers dig into your thighs, and he uses you to his own pleasure, fucking you like a mad man. He’s so strong- and you feel like some weightless doll in his grip. His lips are hot against your own, and his moans are some of the sexiest sounds you’ve ever heard.

There aren’t any thoughts in your head as he uses you in an animalistic, almost primal way, and you love every second of it, your sensitive pussy clenching tight around his aching cock.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans. “You’re pussy’s too good, gonna cum.” He pulls out of you abruptly, and you sink to your knees on your shower floor, looking up at him. “That’s a good girl,” he tells you, wrapping his hand around his cock and beginning to roughly stroke it. “Push those pretty tits up for me.”

You do as you’re told, watching Seungcheol- the way his bicep and abdominal muscles flex with each strained stroke of his rock hard cock.

He’s a fucking vision, and you don’t mind him using the sight of you to his own end- in fact, when he releases a strangled groan, throwing his head back as his hot seed shoots out across your tits, you kind of realize you love this. 

His large thighs flex, his entire muscular body alive as his orgasm washes over him.

He works himself through it, and finally stops, hand falling to his side while the other reaches out to press to the wall. He looks down at you, offering you that sexy smile. “Good girl.”

Five

You’d given it a week of thought, and now here you are, looking at both Mingyu and Seungcheol as they stand in your kitchen.

“Are you sure you want this?” Mingyu asks, ever the softie of the two.

“She wants this,” Seungcheol confirms, looking you up and down. “She’s probably wanted this since the moment you said she could have us both.”

“It’s a big step,” Mingyu points out.

“It’s the ultimate distraction,” Seungcheol counters.

You let out a sigh, opening your robe to reveal the lingerie underneath. “Let’s do this.”

Seungcheol moves first, stepping forward and grabbing you by the back of the neck, drawing your lips to his. You kiss him desperately, cognizant of Mingyu watching. It feels amazing to have the attention of two gorgeous men, and you feel downright elated as Seungcheol lifts you off the ground and begins to carry you to your room.

You watch Mingyu over Seungcheol’s shoulder, and he follows closely.

“How do you want to do this?” the taller one asks as you make it to your bed, where Seungcheol tosses you down.

“No condoms,” you respond.

Both men laugh, exchanging glances. “Baby wants to be full, huh?” Seungcheol asks.

“So full,” you agree.

“I think we can deal with that,” Mingyu grins. “Any other requests?”

You swallow thickly. “Whatever you want.”

Mingyu and Seungcheol look at each other again, and the taller one shrugs. “I’ll go first,” Seungcheol decides. 

“Sounds good to me,” Mingyu agrees.

The two nod at each other, and then they both begin to strip. They get down to their boxers quickly, and Seungcheol joins you on the bed first, making you face him on your knees as he captures your lips with his own. His hands are everywhere, massaging and groping-

A second set of hands joins the first as the bed dips, signaling Mingyu’s arrival behind you. His soft lips find your throat, and you moan at the sensation of two sets of mouths on you.

Their touch is everywhere now, but it’s clearly Seungcheol who pulls your panties down, rubbing your wet pussy while Mingyu works on your bra. 

“So wet for us,” Seungcheol groans. “She’s been wanting this for ages, Gyu- haven’t you, baby?”

“For too long,” you agree with a whimper, looking up at him.

Now it’s Mingyu’s turn to moan a sound of appreciation, and he pushes your bra off your body, hands immediately cupping your breasts. His fingers pinch at your nipples and you moan desperately, pushing your ass back against him-

Fuck, Mingyu’s already hard, his cock straining against your butt-

Seungcheol captures your attention again, kissing you as his fingers push into your core, crooking up to hit your sweet spot. 

You’re so wet- with each stroke, you can hear your juices on Seungcheol’s fingers, and it sets your entire body on fire.

It feels like nothing else you’ve ever experienced to be captured between these two gorgeous men- there are absolutely zero thoughts in your head, you’re so overtaken by this wordless need-

“Fuck this,” Seungcheol says. “I’m not huge on foreplay, need to fuck you.”

Mingyu snickers behind you, it’s clear which of the two men is better at patience, and you suppose that’s why the taller of the two men gets to go second. You can’t imagine making Seungcheol wait his turn, but that’s part of what’s so endearing about him.

“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Seungcheol sighs. “I’ll fuck you doggy, Mingyu can be under you, and as soon as I’m done, he can get his turn, sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect,” you admit.

Seungcheol leans close, his lips ghosting over your own when he says, “Then be a good girl and get into position for me.”

All three of you stip the last bit of clothing from your bodies, and you’re quick to get on top of Mingyu. He immediately kisses you, cupping your cheek as you grind down against his cock- you’re trying to be patient for Seungcheol, but patience, it would seem, is a strong suit that neither of you have. 

“If you put his cock inside of you, I’m going to prep your ass,” Seungcheol warns, and you pause your writhing on top of Mingyu. “That’s what I thought.”

Two hands roughly grip your hips, and Seungcheol pulls you up, off of Mingyu. A cock glides between your pussy lips, and Seungcheol smooths his palm along your back. “Be good for us,” he warns before slipping into your wet core.

You let out a moan, resting your head against Mingyu’s chest while he strokes you, holding you close. He nuzzles at the crown of your head, a gentle contrast to the man who begins fucking into you.

You’re kind of obsessed with the duality- the dichotomy of the two men is enough to keep you satisfied and on edge, enraptured with the act of making love in this way. 

It’s clear already that you’re kind of in love with threesomes- there’s just something about this, or maybe- there’s just something about Mingyu and Seungcheol.

Seungcheol’s hands are rough on your hips, pulling you back to every thrust, and you finally relax enough to be able to kiss Mingyu again. His lips are desperate against your own, and his cock presses up between your bodies- you can’t help but grab at it, stroking him off in time with Seungcheol’s thrusts.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, rutting up to meet you.

“You’re being too nice on him,” Seungcheol muses, and you can hear his smile.

Neither you nor Mingyu respond, too busy kissing to care.

It’s clear, after a few seconds, that Seungcheol doesn’t enjoy being ignored, because one of his hands snakes around your body, fingers finding your clit.

“Shit-” you whimper, breaking your kiss as pleasure surges through you.

“Knew that would get your attention,” Seungcheol says smugly, rubbing you even harder.

“You gonna cum for us?” Mingyu asks, lips attaching to your neck, one hand groping your breast while you continue to stroke him off.

“Yeah, I’m close-” you gasp, pussy tensing, clenching tight around Seungcheol, who groans deeply at the feeling.

You feel so perfectly taken care of, two men working your body closer and closer to the edge until your orgasm takes over. You release a strangled whimper, body surging with white hot energy that pulses through you like an electric shock.

Seungcheol lets out his own sound of pleasure, and his thrusts falter ever so slightly- then he goes as hard as he’s ever gone before. Each rut is skin on skin as his hips hit your ass, and you can tell from his rough panting that he’s just about to tip over the edge too-

He cums with a deep groan, and the sound makes your pussy flutter even harder as ropes of cum coat your insides, filling you perfectly.

You’re fucked practically stupid, reduced to animal instinct as you stay captured between two large bodies. All you can do is stay on shaking thighs, crouched over Mingyu, as Seungcheol finishes up and pulls out of you with a “Fuck.”

 “My turn?” Mingyu asks, stroking your cheek to get your attention.

“Yeah, fuck- fill me up even more,” you whimper.

“You got it, baby,” Mingyu grins, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he reaches between your bodies, grabbing his cock to line it up with your pussy. He helps you down onto him, and you moan.

You’re still tight from your orgasm, but it’s substantially easier to take Mingyu after having just enjoyed Seungcheol’s girth- and the cum inside of you helps with the lubrication. You’re fully seated on Mingyu’s cock not a moment later, and you both moan from the sensation.

His lips attack your own, and you thread your fingers through his hair as he begins to thrust up into you.

You’re too weak to ride him, but from the way Mingyu bucks with the energy of a stallion, you doubt he cares.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans against your mouth. “You feel so good, baby.”

“You feel good too,” you tell him, words shaky as they escape you.

“She’s cock drunk already,” Seungcheol muses, and you hear him heading to the bathroom to clean up while Mingyu has his way with you.

“Are you cock drunk, baby?” Mingyu asks, pausing to look up at you with lust filled eyes.

“So good,” you whimper.

Mingyu grins. “Definitely cock drunk.” He cups your cheek, drawing your lips back to his own. He rolls you over so you’re now on your back, and then he sits up onto his knees. “Can you get onto your side for me, gonna push your leg up to your chest and fuck you like that.”

You do as you’re told, shifting into the position. Mingyu grabs your thigh, anchoring himself as he begins to rail into you. He has more maneuverability in this position than when you’d been on top, and he hits as deep as anyone has ever hit before, making you whimper and claw at the sheets. 

“You look so good like this,” Mingyu tells you. “Being so good for us.”

“Mingyu-” you whimper.

“I know, I’m close too,” he promises.

Each thrust is hitting a spot that has your toes curling, and you’re quickly working your way to another high, pussy still sensitive from Seungcheol.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, digging his fingers into your thigh as he holds you open for himself. “Can’t cum till you do- fuck, wanna feel you squeezing my cock-”

“Gonna fill me up,” you whimper.

“Gonna fill you to the fucking brim, baby,” Mingyu agrees.

You close your eyes, so overwhelmed by pleasure-

“Let me fill you, come on, cum with me baby,” Mingyu urges, and that’s all it takes for you to explode on his cock.

He releases a grunt, fingers gripping you tight as he falls over the edge with you, fucking you roughly through your dual highs. You love how you can just relax as pleasure like you’ve never felt before surges through you- both men take care of you in their own ways, and this is what heaven must feel like.

But all good things must come to an end, and slowly, Mingyu’s motions begin to falter. He collapses half on top of you, breathing heavily as his lips eagerly seek yours out.

“Well aren’t you two cute,” Seungcheol’s voice makes you both laugh, pulling away from each other.

“Is that jealousy in your tone, Seungcheol?” you tease.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Jealousy doesn’t work if you’re planning to do threesomes with the same three people more than once.”

“Oh, are we doing this again?” you ask.

Seungcheol grins. “Baby, what do you think?”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Gyucheol is low key one of my most favourite pairings

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “Bet you’re happy with yourself,” Seungcheol muses, bringing his hot mouth to your throat. “Making him cum untouched like that.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, threesome, fingering, pussy eating, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, slight cum kink, slight exhibitionistic foreplay, inklings of roleplay, groping, size kink, cumming early and in his pants, etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 150

🌙 starring. Seungcheol & Mingyu x afab!reader

bonus

You’re standing at the bartop waiting for your drink when hands grab at your hips. You’re pulled back to a broad chest, and lips press to your throat, prompting you to tilt your head and grin. “Cheol,” you breathe, “what are you doing?”

“Keeping track of my prisoner,” he muses, grabbing at the orange jumper you’re wearing. “Can’t let my dirty little prison escapee out of my sight.”

It had been his idea to dress as cops and a prisoner for Halloween- and you think there must be some sort of rule against Seungcheol and Mingyu wearing their actual uniforms as costumes on a night like this- but fuck, they look so good in their navy blue.

You know you look good too, the orange jumper isn’t revealing per se, but it’s tight in the right places, and Seungcheol is feral for you regardless of what you’re wearing… or not wearing. 

☀️to read the full 2.5k bonus, subscribe to my Patreon - then - click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas

svt taglist

@candidupped - @cheolussy - @aaniag - @imprettyweird

@xcynthiaaa

Thanks to those who interacted with the teaser :)

@sourkimchi - @icedearlgreytea - @binnyluvcoups

@ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken - @gyuguys -

@nejiiiiiiii - @okiedokrie-main - @clownprincehoeshi

@gyuminusone - @ne0mile - @drinkingrumandcocacola

[auroraksr]

PUPPY LOVE [ LANDO NORRIS ]

synopsis: you and lando as pet parents

warnings: fluff, just lando x y/n being the cutest, a lot of dog, not proofread

wc: 900+

since lando was a little kid he always wanted a dog.

since you were a little kid, you also wanted a dog.

and then you started dating. and got a dog.

"lando, for god's sake, how many times have i told you to not leave the leash by the door? i almost tripped!" you yell as you walk into the house back from work.

you and lando started dating 3 years ago and had your not-so-little dog for 2. his name was max - cause lando thought it was the funniest thing to name his dog after his best friend - and he was a huge golden retriever, the cutest you have ever met.

"sorry, love." you hear his muffled voice. when you walk into your room, the scenes strikes you like a bunch of hearts flying at your face.

lando was laying in bed, hugging max and with his head buried in the yellow fur. the dog was looking curiously at the door, waiting for your voice to actually become you.

when max sees you, his tail slaps in lando's leg and he stand up, moving in bed happily.

"hey, big boy." you greet him, caressing his fur and sitting down.

"where's my hi?" lando asks, his arms still plopped in the bed as he look at you.

"hey, big boy." you say again, now running his fingers through lando's hair. he shakes his ass like a tail wagging, for the joke, you laugh loudly. "stop it."

"so, sorry about the leash." he says sitting up. the dog going around you and laying with his head on your lap.

"always, huh?" you tease, almost mad.

"max was eager to drink some water, i can't say no to our only child!" he says in a high-pitched voice.

you push his head, he falls right back in bed and you stand up, resting max's head carefully on the matress.

"you should go take a shower, i'll order something for us, to enjoy or last weekend together." you groan as you remember the triple header coming and the amount of time you'd spent away from each other. "you want something special?"

"sushi?" you try, as always, convincing lando.

"hell no." he frowns, as he always do.

"i'll take some pizza, then." you shrug, walking in the shower.

when you get off, wrapping a towel around yourself, lando is not in the room. as you get dressed he appears, whistling and putting the pizza box down at the side table.

"don't let max get it before we can!" i barely yell, remembering the time lando placed the box on the bed and walked over to me. when we turned back, there was only two or three bites left of the pizza and a very hungry dog looking at us with his doe little eyes.

"sure, ma'am." lando sits down on bed, what gets a grunt from the dog.

you sit on bed, already in your pajamas, getting comfortable while lando puts something on the tv.

you take a piece of the pizza, biting it as max looks at you hopefully. you chuckle at his eyes.

"when did you learn to be like that, man?" you talk to the dog as lando puts one arm around your waist and uses the other one to grab his own piece of pizza.

"he was a good example." you look at your boyfriend as he looks at you with such doe eyes. "you sure you can't go to any race in the next weeks?"

"i can try, but my boss is already eating me alive for absolutely nothing." you roll your eyes and rest against his arm.

"you know you don't have to stay in this job, right?" he starts again as you huff. "i know, i know, you want to be independent! you can be independent working in a job that doens't stress you out that much."

"i like my job, lan." you argue.

"i know you do, but i'm saying that you're always complaining about something when you could just quit and be with me during the weekends." he pouts.

"i'm gonna try and make it out for at least one of the races, 'k?" you rest your head in his shoulder and looks up at him.

"better, yeah." he sighs.

you hear a huff from the end of the bed and turn to see your dog looking at you like a maniac, begging for a bite of your pizza.

"look at his face!" lando exclaims, pointing out.

"max, please." you cry and the door licks his mouth.

"no way your winning, better his give him a bite before he decides to get one by himself."

you have dinner and watch a few episodes of a show you had started weeks ago with lando - and max. as the night finally starts tire you, you let out a few yawns before lando realises it's already pretty late.

"let's have some sleep, babe." he whispers, turning off his side table lamp and getting comfortable with you in his arms.

not a minute goes by before the sound of ruffling sheets is heard and you feel a furred and soft by your feet. when you realise, max is already in the middle of you two, also seeking the comfort lando so desperately wanted.

"max!" he complains as his arms are torned away from your skin.

"let him be." it's the last thing you remember saying before drifting into sleep.

[miaoua3]

hii !! i'd like to request for "sitting in between wonu's thighs while he stimulates ur clit as u lay back on his chest" thank you <3

hii! sure, i hope you enjoy this!

Wonwoo, The Menace

Pairing: bf! wonwoo x f! reader

Genre: smut….just…smut

Description: wonwoo gets in one of his moods again, you end up being on the receiving end of it (not that you complain (well kind of))

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

so, here’s the thing. wonwoo, your beautiful and sweet boyfriend, was usually nothing more than perfect, always so sweet and caring to you. on any other day, you would describe him as nothing more than as an angel.

on any other day. but not today.

see, wonwoo sometimes gets into these…moods, where without any explanation whatsoever decides to make it mission to make you suffer (well not really but also kind of).

and he usually decides to do it by teasing you for hours to no end with the help of your little pink vibrator.

about an hour ago, wonwoo randomly pulled you with him to your bedroom, kissing you like he hasn’t tasted you in years, hands groping your ass and tits like his life depended on it.

gradually, his pace slowed down, the closer you two got to the bed. once the back of his knees hit the bed, he broke off the kiss in order to slowly lower himself down on it, keeping up with the eye contact, as well as letting his hands slowly slide down from your back all the way down to your thighs.

and his eyes? if eyes could talk his would say “i am going to have so much fun with making you scream and moan my name all night long."

the thought sent shivers down your spine.

ever so slowly, he moved himself so he was sitting in the middle of the bed with his back against the board of it.

with dark eyes looking at you, he patted one of his thick thighs that were now spread.

“strip and sit.”

that was an hour ago. an hour of agonising pleasure and hundreds of tears rolling down your cheeks, your hands holding onto his arms tightly, his dirty mouth whispering profanities and encouraging words all in the same breath in your ear from behind.

you have already orgasmed two times already, simply from him holding the little vibrator to your clit while his other indecisive hand restlessly went from playing with your nipples to playing with the entrance of your pussy.

something about the whole thing- him being fully clothed while you were completely naked, letting yourself be at his mercy, following all of his instructions to the t, him going from “oh, you want my fingers? does my little princess want my fingers inside her hungry little pussy? hm? beg for it then.” to “such a good girl, keeping her hands to herself. cum for me, make a mess for me.” all in the same breath.

something about everything was so hot to you, which made your pleasure increase by the suspense of hopefully finally having him fuck you.

wonwoo was currently working on the orgasm number 3 from you, his lips brushing your ear as he’s whispering naughty words into it, his hand gently resting against the base of your neck while his other hand is holding the little toy to your clit.

you can feel your legs shaking against his own, you can also feel your hands holding onto his wrists tightly, as well as the tears continuously falling from your eyes and sobs mixed with moans break out of you.

you can feel all this, and yet your mind is thousand of miles away, floating away from you that you’re not entirely aware of all your actions. the only thing that you can focus on is wonwoo’s firm chest against your back and the pleasure his hand is currently bringing to you.

trying to stop your legs from shaking so much, wonwoo reaches with his free hand to hold your thigh in place. focusing on his veiny hand squeezing your leg, you hear your lover murmur "fuck, you're shaking so much-does it feel good? hm? is my baby feeling so good that she can't control herself? fuck it- i want you to cum on my fingers" he decides on quickly.

turning the vibrator off, he throws it to the side before he starts rubbing your clit with the two of his fingers quickly, his mouth nibbling and sucking on the skin of your neck as you rapidly approach your end.

before you can even warn him, you feel yourself cumming, your moans filling the otherwise quiet room. you seemingly black out due to the immense pleasure, so much so that you aren't even aware that you just squirted all over your bedsheets.

with your head resting against wonwoo's chest, it takes you a few moments to come back to yourself. it is only then that you notice both the wetness of the sheets beneath you, as well as how quiet your boyfriend has gone, you slowly turn your head upwards to him, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

wonwoo's eyes are solely focused on your quivering legs and the wetness of the sheets, his pupils fully blown, making them look almost black.

unconsciously, you tighten the hold of your hand on his arm that wrapped itself around your chest as you were orgasming to keep you in place.

finally breaking out of his trance at your movement, he slowly moves his focus from between your legs to your eyes. in a blink of an eye, his hand moves from resting on your chest to grasping your jaw, tilting your head more to the back before he kisses you, his tongue entering your mouth with no manners at all, battling for its dominance against your own.

breaking the kiss briefly, he utters "fuck, that was so hot." before going back to kissing you again, only to interrupt himself again. "need you to do that again, around my cock."

gasping, you ask him "again?"

he pecks your lips gently once, twice, before he looks at you with lustful eyes.

"what, you didn't think i was done with you baby, did you?"

and the little sinister smirk told you that

he wasn't going to let you out of his arms the entire night.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

hope this is okay, i know it’s a bit short but that’s because i have 16 MORE REQUESTS TO ANSWER BLODDY HELL and also because i wrote this with shaky hands due to drinking coffee first thing in the morning😭 anyway love ya🫶

[thesassypadawan]

Beloved Husband *part 2* (Unburnt Vader x WifeReader)

Summary:  All throughout your pregnancy your husband has been loving…caring…patient.  However that same patience has worn quiet thin during your last month.  And now wanting nothing more than to be with you…ruin you…breed you again.  He will take and do as he pleases, even if it’s far too soon after the birth of your son.  Even if it take’s all night long.  (A continuation to Beloved Master.)

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut.  Size difference, hint of a breeding kink, premature postpartum smex, and Vader’s big dick. 

Notes: Happy Sithtember all you, lovelies! ❤️🖤

🎉❤️A VERY HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO @t03soup❤️🎉

- Delirious…  Gently he flips you onto your back.  Head lolls against the plush pillows, soft pants slip past your swollen lips.  “An-Ani, you have to s-stop…” 

- Mind hazy…  Faintly you’re aware of him nudging your legs apart.  Guiding your fingers into place to keep them spread open.  “Can’t k-keep going…”

- Thoughts growing cloudier with each passing moment…  Larger body slots between; pressing down, trapping yours beneath.  Feebly you writhe and wriggle, trying to free yourself.  “I'm not s-supposed to get…”

- With each blissfully painful orgasm…  Glassy eyes meet his golden ones, sinister smile creeps across his face.  “No one tells me what I can and cannot do…”  Chuckling darkly; monstrous length grinding, smearing pre on your folds and stomach.  “Even my own wife…”

- Weakly you sob out as he surges forward once more.  Gummy walls struggling, burning...aching from the intense stretch.  Nails digging, scratching at your thighs.  Familiar pricks stinging at your waterlines.  “I…n-no…I…”

- Swallowing up your pleas; his tongue tangles, utterly dominates yours.  Hips rocking slowly; bulbous tip somehow still hitting, bullying your poor cervix.  “Hmmph…”

- While his metallic digits toy at your sore, raw nipples.  Rolling, tugging them just hard enough to cause fat drops of milk to spring forth…trickle down, mingle with your mixed sweat.  “Please…p-please…”

- Fiery kisses trail, teeth nip at your neck and collarbone.  “Stop your crying, angel,” he growls into your marked skin.  Voice rumbling through you, coil beginning to tighten in your stomach again.  “Don’t want to hear it.”

- Pace increases; thrusts grow harsh, wild.  Curves bounce, jiggle; balls slap heavily, wetly against your bottom.  Sound echoing off the bed chamber’s walls, along with your pitiful babbles.  “But…I-I…”

- “Need this as bad as I do…”  Lips travel lower, hot mouth encompasses your leaking bud.  Suckling, savoring the stray drops of nectar.  Biting the tender flesh that surrounds them, eliciting small whimpers and gasps from you.

- “Have me destroy, ruin you…”  Organic fingers brush, swirl your overstimed clit.  Pinching, flicking; big thumb pressing, squeezing the little nub firmly.  Pleasure building, boarding on the line of agony.

- “Let me back inside that perfect womb of yours…”  Mechno hand slides up, wraps around your fragile throat.  Hold tight, keeping you in place while he slams…attempts to breach past the tight rim.

- “Filling you, making you heavy with another of my heirs…”  Driving deeply one last time, you feel the familiar pop and flood of warmth yet again.  Pussy involuntary clenches, gushes.  Tears flow freely in happiness or sadness, you aren't quite sure.  Because you’re so…

- Delirious…  Gently he pulls out, pries your fingers off.  Easing your trembling limbs down to the mattress, propping your hips up with a plush pillow.  Muttering sweet words of admirations and praises; about not wanting to see any of his seed go to waste, to be sure it takes.  “Good girl…” 

- Mind hazy…  Faintly you’re aware of coos, squeaks coming from nearby.  Catching a brief glimpse of his cock in the firelight.  Coated in your combined juices, tinted slightly in something crimson.  “Must be hungry…hopefully I didn’t drink up all his meal…”

- Thoughts growing sharper with each passing moment…  You lay there numb; content to not move, to let fatigue something else overtake you.  Until a small bundle is placed into your arms, tiny hand reaches for you.  And suddenly the life rushes back into you, the night’s events fade away.  “Looks like someone missed you…” 

- With each happy noise from your newborn…  Clear eyes meet his golden ones, wide smile creeps across his face.  “You’re so beautiful…helpless, hatari…”  Chuckling softly; big hand cradling, caressing your round stomach.  “Think I’ll keep you this way for years to come…”

-  With each chaste kiss placed on the crown of your head…  Forcing, burying the last shred of your old self.  You return your beloved husband’s smile, his kiss.  “I’d love nothing more…Lord Vader.”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @loverforoldermen, @anakinsbbgirl, @t03soup, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @avescorner-blog, @vaderswifey, @jediavengers

[historical-fashion-polls]

hello my lovelies! 💕

I am popping in to let you know that I have something (hopefully) very fun planned to celebrate halloween with you all which will start on saturday! 🎃🎃

to celebrate one of my favorite holidays, I will be temporarily pausing the regular queue and we will do something we've not done on the blog yet: a bracket tournament!!

I thought it would be fun to bring back some old outfits and have them compete in a series of polls rather than just once 💖💖

I will have much more detailed info on this forthcoming, but I did want to let you all know about this now, since it's starting so soon!

yours in eager anticipation of halloween,

the curator 🪶 👻

[viasdreams]

Nightwalker ཐི❤︎ཋྀ ~ ok throat goat!!

the plan was simple: channel his inner chenle to make yn dislike him.

easy.

hyuck knew that if he were to be himself, yn would instantly fall head over heels for him, just like any other woman would.

acting like chenle should, in theory, make him off-putting and unlikeable, thus keeping yn away from him.

it was going to be a difficult feat for a smooth guy like him, but he needed to push away all his charisma and charm for mark's sake.

the first two hours of his shift consisted of hyuck planning out what he was going to say while kun was trying to train him and then subsequently getting scolded for messing up.

"no that goes in the romance section, not young adult. remember to read the barcode donghyuck."

"right, right, my bad."

"it's ok man, you'll get the hang of it eventually" kun said, flashing him a sympathetic look from the other side of the bookcase.

they sorted books in silence for a while, hyuck slowly getting the system down when the bell on the door chimed.

kun turned towards the door but hyuck didn't have to look to know who just walked in.

yn.

he recognized your scent the second the door cracked open.

usually, all the different smells of people blended together, creating a sort of dull aroma. but your scent was unique. it was stronger than all the others, overtaking the bland stench as it flooded his nostrils.

you smelled naturally sweet, like honey if it was cultivated by the hardest working bees in the most productive hive, using the prettiest flowers, on the most perfect spring day.

all he could do was stare at you wide-eyed as kun stood to greet you.

"hi are you yn?"

"yes i am, its nice to meet you!"

kun extended his hand but quickly stopped when he saw the white bandages wrapped around your right hand.

"oh i didn't see that, my bad." he awkwardly studdered.

"no its totally fine, don't worry about it." you asured him, holding your injured hand to your chest.

hyucks eyes immediately locked on the small red stain showing through the covering, his mouth staring to salivate.

realizing what was happening, he aggressively slapped his cheeks to stop his growing thirst, drawing the attention of his coworkers.

"donghyuck are you alright?" kun questioned.

hyuck fervently nodded in response, eyes still trained on your hand.

"anyways, im going to grab some paperwork for you from the office real quick. feel free to look around in the meantime." kun smiled as he headed toward the back of the store.

hyuck tried to look busy sorting the books, keeping his head down to hopefully deter you from coming over. he was for sure putting everything in the wrong place but that was of no importance to him at the moment.

despite his efforts, you immediately walked to the shelf he was at.

"you're donghyuck right? we met the other day when i came in for an application."

he slowly turned to face you, readying himself to be a complete ass, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he felt his tongue graze against two very sharp fangs.

"i-" , he slammed both hands over his mouth, "i'm donghyuck."

you stared back at him, caught off guard by his actions.

"um so what made you want to work at a bookstore? personally, i just really needed a job but i would imagine other people that work here probably like reading or something."

"yeah i-", his mind was blank, all other thoughts covered by the notion of drinking your blood again, "i book."

"you what? sorry i missed that because your hands are covering," you waved your hands over your lower face, "your mouth."

hyuck's eyes followed your hand as it moved, quickly darting back and forth. you caught this, furrowing your eyebrows in further confusion.

being this close to you had only caused his thirst to grow tenfold. he knew that if he were to open his mouth again, his fangs would once more find their way into the soft flesh of your palm.

so instead of talking, he turned around and sped walked into the office.

"kun, i don't feel good and if i don't go home right now im going to spew chunks all over the sci-fi section." he faked heaved into his still cupped hands to really sell his act.

"oh um yeah sure go home. text me tomorrow if you're still feeling bad and i'll cover your shift." kun replied, slowly backing up to get out of hyuck's potential splash zone.

"thanks man!" hyuck yelled as he raced to the door, avoiding your puzzled gaze as he passed.

previous ~ masterlist ~ next

a/n: sorry for not updating this for a literal year (5 days), wont happen again guys !!

taglist: @miyawwn @nanaxwi @mystverse @mmoonlee @chenlesfavorite @dudekiss3r @honeynanamin @nctjunie @nneteyamss @iamsimplyasimp @roseangelxfuma @haechsworld @kirbrary @hyuck-me @catpjimin @toyoongg @sthwaaberry @kim-seungmins-gf @sunghoonsgfreal @sunflowerhae @galacticnct @slayhaechan @multifandomania @jasluvsjae @injunnie-lemon

[deepseasmetro]

if you feel like typing about it can you talk about the misogyny in botw/totk? i did try looking it up first but i cant find anything and i like understanding media better

putting aside from the fact that nearly every legend of zelda game doesn't like women given how it treats them and their autonomy, breath of the wild and tears of the kingdom feel especially egregious given the personality they give zelda to begin with

she is presented to you as this stifled but curious and incredibly bright young woman who wants to help her kingdom the way that she knows how, which is through technology and research. she's very passionate about this! it's something she enjoys doing!

and yeah, her dad's presented as an asshole for not letting her do that, but her way doesn't work, right? the technology she invested so much into turns on them, and causes 100 years of destruction. you can use the divine beasts to help you to fight ganon, but you don't have to. at the end of the day, it's that spiritual energy that she was so opposed to tapping into that saves the day. her agency is completely taken from her. the things that she is interested in, passionate about, good at: none of those things matter, at all. she was wrong. her value to both the story and to hyrule is in her spiritual ability. something that she really has no control over, and that she only has as a result of her lineage.

in tears of the kingdom, they have the opportunity to fix this problem! zelda is free, she's back, and the de facto ruler of hyrule. in fact, she's spaarheading attempts to continue to uncover technology and ancient civilization to better understand this land, and hopefully benefit from it.

... and then she is promptly removed from the story, sent back in time, and once again made to rely on her spirituality instead of her intellect and tinkering skills. her story is given very little respect. you don't get to experience it in order. you don't even really get to experience it with her at all. the two other women in her section of the game are also disrespected, killed off, Etc.

she then sacrifices her own autonomy again to become the dragon, and even this sacrifice is treated so poorly by the game. it's revealed to be this plot twist, this emotional story beat, and then is instantly fixed by link!

to me, these two games feel more egregious in this aspect than some of the other games bc zelda has so much potential in these games, and it is also utterly squandered. and this post is only about zelda! the woman these games are named after! i won't even begin to get into how these games treat its other female characters, but none of them are any better than zelda. and most of them are worse.

[barcaatthemoon]

baller || kelsey plum x reader ||

Kelsey takes you out after a game.

Kelsey made a beeline for the locker room at the sound of the final buzzer. You stayed in your courtside seat as some of her teammates gathered around you. It was always a bit of a party whenever you managed to find time to come to Kelsey's games. She swore that she played better whenever you were in the stands, something that her teammates all also agreed with. Personally, you thought Kelsey played great whether you were there or not, but you'd accept all of the extra love you got from it.

"I am sorry to delay your post-game kiss. Hopefully Becky was good company." Kelsey was panted slightly as she spoke to you. The huddle of girls around you had kept you from seeing her as she sprinted from the locker room over to where you'd been sitting.

"You say that, but I still haven't been kissed yet," you teased. Kelsey pushed past everybody to get to you. Once she was close enough, Kelsey cupped your cheeks and pressed several quick kisses to your lips before ending it on a longer one. You broke the kiss as her teammates whooped and hollered at the two of you. "Take me home now please?"

"Hold on, not yet baby. I wanna take you out," Kelsey said. She helped you out of your seat and walked you out of the arena. After a win like that and with you on her arm, Kelsey felt like she was on top of the world. Nothing could knock her down a peg, not even your potential rejection of her wanting to take you out. "If you don't want to go out, that's okay. I didn't make reservations anywhere."

"Aren't you tired after all that?" Kelsey shook her head as she grabbed your hand to kiss the back of it. "Can I pay tonight or are you wanting to show off?"

"You know me baby, I gotta show off a little. I'd take you dress shopping if it wasn't so late," Kelsey told you. You cracked a smile at her, knowing that was true. She had once kept you out all day with a game, shopping trip, and extravagant dinner before ending it at the club with her girls. "Are you sure that's okay?"

"Absolutely fine by me," you told her. Kelsey bit her lip as she turned back to the wheel. You knew that she was playing a bit, but you didn't mind. Showing off meant more than just throwing around some money with Kelsey. She would do everything she could to make sure that you had a good time, and usually, that meant being a bit over the top with her flirting and jokes.

There were seemingly hundreds of flashy restaurants all over Vegas, but Kelsey knew what you liked. It was the kind of place where you had worked before you even moved here. A hidden gem among the locals, known mainly to the people who found themselves getting off work as all of the parties died down.

Both you and Kelsey were regulars here. The staff knew you both, although they saw Kelsey as an extension of you at times. It didn't matter if the woman came in on her own, which had only happened a couple of times, they'd send her on her way with your usual order. Neither one of you had to even look at a menu, the waitresses already knowing what you'd want.

"It's not the Ritz, but I need something good. I hope to have a long night ahead of myself," Kelsey said with a wink. You rolled your eyes at her, but didn't disagree. It was likely that you and Kelsey would be up all night as soon as you got back to her place. You didn't mind that, in fact, you were already having a hard time keeping your hands completely to yourself.

You loved the pre-game outfits and all, but there was something about Kelsey's lowkey post-game outfits that got you. You loved seeing her walk around in the practice shorts and Aces t-shirt that you knew you'd be wearing in the morning. You liked seeing Kelsey comfortable, and maybe, just maybe, you were relieved that she wasn't getting stared at by strangers.

"So, and you can totally say no to this, Chelsea found this big couples' retreat thing. They did it last year, but Darren didn't want to, so I went and coupled up with one of the single girls, which was fun. Anyway, I was thinking that it would be more fun if you came with this year, but you don't have to. I know that I already ask a lot with you coming to my games and shit…" Kelsey trailed off awkwardly. You smiled at her as you leaned across the table to kiss her cheek.

"I'd really like that. Just let me know when it is, and I'll make arrangements," you told her. Kelsey perked up at your agreement, having thought it would be harder to convince you.

The two of you left the restaurant shortly after that, not wanting to go home quite so early into the night. Kelsey knew that some of the girls on the team were planning on going out, but she wanted you all to herself. You had always loved the lights, so Kelsey drove up and down the strip a few times until you started to get very obviously tired.

"Can I carry you upstairs?" Kelsey asked as she pulled into her garage. You quirked an eyebrow at her, but the longer that you looked at her, the clearer it became that she wasn't joking. "Please?"

"Are you ever scared that people think you do too much for me?" you asked. Kelsey scoffed at your question. The idea that there would ever be 'too much' was ridiculous. Kelsey knew that you were going to be the person she grew old with, and if she could make any aspect of your life easier or better, then she was determined to do so.

"Never. I get teased every practice because everybody thinks I'm whipped, but I just love you. You do so much for me that nobody sees or knows about, and I don't think that I'll ever be able to make it up to you, so I try in other ways. I know that it looks like a lot, but it's not. You love me, and you let me love you. Besides, do you know how fucking cool I look running around with you on my arm in all those fancy ass clothes?" You could tell that Kelsey was nowhere near stopping, so you climbed over the center console and into her lap. Immediately, Kelsey got quiet and started to run her hands down your sides until she got to your ass.

"I love you too," you told her. Kelsey grinned into a kiss, much sweeter than any of the others you had shared that night. Kelsey didn't try to push it further, only just pulling away before you buried your head into her shoulder to hide your yawning.

"You're so cute when you're sleepy," Kelsey whispered as she took you out of the car. She carried you upstairs first, knowing that her basketball bag would stay in the car until the morning because she wasn't leaving your side all night.

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

In which you officially become a couple.

Inumaki Toge has a crush on you.

Technically, it's not weird.

Technically he's 'allowed' to. 

You're engaged after all. Even though you're much too young to get married anytime soon, and even though you are arranged by your clans after all.

Still, he can't help but feel nervous around you. His cheeks tinting pink whenever you talk about something passionately, your smile brightening up his days. He's too young to understand actually loving someone yet, but he's well aware that he very much likes you.

However, he has no idea how to tell you, or let you know.

Thinking about telling you has his hands getting sweaty and cause a fierce blush to spread across his face.

Besides, he can't talk to you. Not like a normal person at least. No matter how much he wants to. Apart from saying your name, he still has to stick to onigiri ingredients.

Communication between the two of you has been getting better, but you're learning to understand without him translating on his phone.

He doesn't mind translating. He often types out entire texts of speech for you when you're having a conversation about something interesting. But it does make communicating his feelings harder.

He wants the words to come from him directly, not by him showing you his phone screen and blinking at you nervously. He has to figure something out.

Body language will have to do, he supposes. He can't tell you, but perhaps he can show you.

Or maybe, he just needs to ask a certain someone for advice. Someone who has probably asked out a lot of girls before.

-

Gojo Satoru blinks at his future student in surprise.

" What?" 

He's heard of Toge's engagement to you. How could he not? He's one of the big three clans after all. 

However, of all things, he doesn't understand the hassle. You're already engaged. Why not just immediately get married? Besides, of all things he's expected Toge to ask, this had been the very last one.

" Just ask her- "

Toge has to blink in annoyance for Satoru to understand.

" Oh. Right. Okay, new plan!"

-

A few days later, that plan is finally put into action.

You're not in the same schools, so you're meeting up after school. He's already waiting for you at the park, in the city near your school. In his hands, he holds a chinese lantern plant. Originally, Gojo's plan included flowers, but he didn't necessarily like flowers. They weren't permanent. These were. They'd blossom along with your love. Hopefully for a very long time- Unless you'd reject him.

He swallows, hoping the best.

" Toge!" 

Turning his head from where he had been staring at the plant, he turns to face you, a smile immediately taking over his features. He shifts the plant to one of his arms, using the other to take your palm in his in greeting, his thumb soothing over your skin.

You smile at him, the tips of your ears turning pink like they always do when he has his full attention on you.

" Hi. Oh, that's a pretty plant, what's it for?"

" Salmon cod roe."

' Wait.' 

You blink, watching as he fumbles through his pockets. Eventually, he pulls out an envelope. You're not stupid, nor oblivious. You've caught onto his interest in you since the start. Besides, admittedly, you've grown to like him too.

Nearly a year has passed since you first met him, and you're pleased to say that he's the sweetest person you've ever met. He's considerate, attentive, and kind. (Not to mention extra sweet when you're on your period.) Truthfully, you like spending time with him, and you want to be closer to him too.

He hands you the envelope, his eyes wide as he signals for you to open it.

You do so.

' Dear Y/N,

I know our engagement is arranged and that you were originally not looking forward to spending the rest of your time with someone you couldn't choose yourself. I also know that we originally agreed to see how things go, and to be honest, I like how things are going. I like spending time with you. I like how you're learning my own language, and that it's not holding you back from spending time with me, and I really like who you are as a person. I'd like to spend more time with you. You're always running through my mind, and I want to be with you all the time.You're sweet, but also playful and patient. I'm sorry I can't tell you because of Cursed Speech, but I really like you  and want to be with you, because we want to, and not because we're arranged.

Ps. Please don't feel forced to return my feelings because of our engagement

Pps. The plant is for you. I've been told that pretty girls like pretty flowers, and this one made me think of you : ) '

By the end of his heartfelt letter, Toge is much more nervous than before, and you're grinning widely.

" I'd love to be with you!" You beam, jumping at him and pulling him into a hug.

He lets out a breath of relief, pulling you in close and returning your affection gladly.

Finally, he gets to call you his girl.

Extra:

" Okay, easy, this is what you gotta do!" 

Toge is listening attentively to his future teacher.

" First! Get an airplane. I don't remember where you can get one, but there's one that like flies those banners- Which brings me to two! Which is actually one, but whatever. Get a banner. Or make one. One of those cheese ones that simply says 'go out with me' should do the trick. Three! Which actually could be zero, but- rose petals. Everywhere. Girls love that. You can choose any location, but a beach should be great, even though that's really far away. Might want to drive there. Last, maybe hire a mariachi band. Or like a violin player-"

Toge blinks at Gojo as he continues talking. Toge is only 14. How would he even be able to afford any of that?

" Bonito flakes."

Gojo glances at him, finally shutting up. He rolls his eyes, before shrugging his shoulders.

" Ah right, you're only fourteen. Then maybe go for the easy route. Flowers and ask her out. Maybe you can hold the banner up yourself?" 

Or, maybe a love letter? Girls like that, right?

Liked this? There's more of this au in my Masterlist : )

[amoscontorta]

Not my type | ao3 | part 8 of this series

a tragicomedy starring Sylus and his clueless crush

Summary: Sylus pesters you on your day off while you're at the arcade until you agree to "lend your talents" to him for the evening. So of course you show up at the designated location only to discover it's a nightclub, and you're dressed for a murder, but not on the dance floor.

Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc This story contains: slow burn, angst, grief, banter, stalking (Sylus), an ongoing one-sided misunderstanding that will be resolved in the next instalment in a way that hopefully won't destroy the romantic tension, mc with self-esteem issues, mentions of self harm, Kieran and Luke and some ocs that hopefully you'll like.

In the days following your utter humiliation at the hands of the Hunter Association’s most wanted criminal, you’re doing fine. Really. You are Fine.

You had a great time at the bookstore with Xavier, who kindly said nothing about your state of dishevelment or the glaring human bite mark on your shoulder when you answered the door that morning. You both lazily wandered between the bookshelves, leisurely reading summaries and showing each other finds that you thought the other would also enjoy. You stopped at the bookstore café and loaded up on sugary iced coffee.

“Here, try this, I think you’ll like it,” you offer your iced mocha with caramel drizzle and whipped cream to Xavier as you begin walking back home together, each carrying a shoulder tote full of manga stuffed with hot guys and big swords, after having spent probably half of this month’s paycheck in one impulse-fueled spree.

“Okay, but then you also have to try mine,” he smiles, holding his own cup out to you. You look at it dubiously, recalling from hearing him order that it had some sort of peppermint flavor in it.

“No way I’m drinking sugar-flavored toothpaste,” you grimace, shaking your head.

“What? Noo, it’s really good, I promise. The peppermint is really subtle. You can’t only just consume chocolate and caramel in your desserts. You’ve got to be a little more adventurous, or you might miss out on something surprising,” he earnestly advises, blue eyes wide, a little pout on his lips.

You eye the offending drink again, and then figure, why not? You’ve gone through much worse, recently, in terms of unpleasant experiences. You should try new things, of the food variety. Because you’re done trying new things of the people variety.

You take his cup and hand over yours, and you both quietly sip for a moment. Your eyes meet again, and both of you grin. “That’s really good!” you admit, and Xavier gently knocks your shoulder with his. “I told you so,” he smiles serenely.

“All right, all right. I’ll listen to my partner more from now on,” you exchange drinks again.

It was nice. Back at his place, you both lazed around on his soft couch and bean bag chair and read until the sunlight drifting through his windows was the golden-tinge of the setting sun, and his persistent yawning was so frequent that you decided to put him out of his misery. You couldn’t punish him by overstaying your welcome simply because you didn’t want to go back to your empty flat with all of your racing thoughts.

“Thanks for today, it was a really nice break,” you tell him as you’re gathering your manga volumes and slipping them back into your tote bag.

“It was,” he yawns again, tears forming at the sides of his clear bright eyes. “We should do it again soon. But I’m going to be out of town for a little while, starting tomorrow.” He gives you an apologetic look.

“Hey, no worries. I wasn’t going to demand you spend all of your leave entertaining me,” you smile, genuinely. You always miss him when he disappears mysteriously, but he’s gotten so much better at telling you when he plans to be away compared to how he was when you first partnered with him.

“I know. I just…” he pauses. “If you need me. For anything. Just send me a text, okay? I’ll come back as soon as I can. I don’t like the idea of you being left to your own devices for too long.” He gives you a teasing smile. “Who knows what other strange companions you’ll pick up if left alone for too long,” he continues, obviously referring to how you stumbled upon him in the no-hunt zone so many months ago. However, the only thing that comes to mind when he says “strange companions” is the image of narrowed scarlet eyes, a laugh that warms you like a shot of whiskey, and big, big hands.

You chuckle, totally naturally, and not nervously at all, mind racing, trying to figure out if he somehow knows that Sylus was at your place last night, and if so, if he knows who Sylus is exactly. Shit. Shit. Nope. You’re not doing this. Xavier is making an innocent joke about how the two of you met, and Sylus does not get to bulldoze into your thoughts while you’re having fun with your partner.

“I’ll be the paragon of caution, I promise,” you say solemnly. “I promise I won’t talk to any shady strangers while you’re away.” You nod firmly to him.

He smiles, seemingly reassured. “Good. Try to get some rest over the next few days. The Captain is right, you need some R&R. Even I couldn’t decipher your reports, and I feel like I’ve gotten pretty good at translating your … particular style of writing under most conditions.”

“Hey, at least I use actual words when texting,” you roll your eyes, pointing at him. He snorts softly, and you wave and make your way back to your apartment, where you proceed to spend the next few days manically cleaning your apartment and researching online for advice regarding acting, bluffing, the subtle art of reading micro-expressions and how to control your own, and in general all things you tell yourself are useful for your undercover work, and not because you anticipate having to lie to everyone you know and care about for as long as a certain hooligan continues to insert himself into your life when you least expect it.

But as the days pass, you don’t hear anything from said hooligan. The only crow feathers outside your window are of the normal variety, swaying in the branches of trees whose leaves are falling as autumn encroaches on the last days of summer in the city.

You decide, once again, to grab the memory of him by the throat and shove it down deep, with all of the other things you refuse to examine too closely. You’re probably close to running out of storage room, but that’s a problem for future you.

For present you, it’s time to hit the arcade. You haven’t been in a while. So that’s what you do, enjoying the cacophony of games music and sound effects, people laughing and shrieking as they win and lose, the too-bright lights, the scent of fried food. The wall of sound and lights and other people just having a simple, entertaining weekend afternoon is enough to drown out any overthinking you might otherwise be sucked into.

It works for a while. You spend some time beating teenagers at some 1 v 1 fighting games, beat some younger kids at your favorite motocross simulation. You manage to not make anyone cry, although for one poor kid it seemed like a close call for a minute or two, before his buddies dragged him away to get some soda as a consolation drink for being beaten within an inch of his pubescent life by the adult weirdo who demolishes children in video games.

You’re finally trying your hand at getting a few new plushies to bring home when you realize you’ve managed to go a couple hours without missing your grandmother, or Caleb. The only people who knew you, really knew you, as a child, and were therefore the scaffolding holding up the unfinished architecture of the adult you, with all of its missing floors and windows, and all the storage rooms hidden behind walls with no doors. But that scaffolding is gone now, and you can’t turn to them and reassure yourself: I am still me, right? I am still the me who I always have been, despite the scarlet voices in my head that come to me in frightening dreams, despite the endless hunger, the exquisite drowning I felt the one time I resonated with Sylus…I’m a good person. I’m a kind person. I’m a loveable person. Right? You loved me, right?

There’s no one left to ask, now. Just you, looking at yourself in the glass reflection of a claw machine, in a noisy arcade filled with people having fun. You haven’t been able to win even one plushie yet.

You take your hand off the joystick, suddenly exhausted. You will not cry in front of the stuffed llamas and penguins. They don’t deserve that.

Your phone dings.

You fish it out of one of your cargo pants pockets, and scowl when you see the name of the person texting you.

Not My Sy: I feel that Ive been more than generous in giving you sufficient time to draft your little rules, but Im starting to get bored waiting for you to send them.

You just stare at your phone, as the door of the basement that you had just slammed closed where you stuff all of your unwanted thoughts bursts open, flooding you with feelings you’re trying so hard not to feel. Just the sight of the nickname he gave himself in your phone fills you with a rush of anticipation—a thrill that aches. And that is exactly why you hadn’t sent him the rules you had insisted on imposing on his surprise visits to your place. One, because you refuse to reach out to him first and therefore lose. Lose what, you’re not sure, but you’re tired of feeling like you’re losing to him. If he wants to talk to you, he knows your number. Two, there is no longer any point to sending him the Rules. He can’t come to your place if he wants to talk to you, because the deal’s off. He can find some other place to recuperate from headaches and papercuts and someone else to manipulate and to… kiss, and bite.

You will not allow him to affect you like this anymore. You stuff your phone into your back pocket and decide to save all the tokens you still have for another day. Time to pick up some tacos and go home to binge watch a series of films that make you yell at the screen because no one can get shot that many times and not fucking die, what a load of bullshit, but you’ll keep watching anyway because the gunplay choreography is pretty badass even if it’s completely nonsensical. There’s also a dog in it. You’ve never been able to resist an anti-hero with a soft spot for animals.

Your phone dings again. You tell yourself that you won’t look. You have plans, dammit. Ones you just made, granted, but you’re not going to get roped into whatever little scheme Sylus thinks he can run on you today.

You wrap your hoodie tighter around yourself in preparation for the rush of cool autumn air as the arcade’s door swings shut behind you. Your phone dings again. You grit your teeth and reach into your pocket to flick your phone to silent.

Almost immediately, your phone begins to vibrate in your pocket. And it doesn’t stop. It just… keeps going. You jerk to a halt and just stand there, feeling it vibrate against your ass, over and over and over again. What the fuck is this lunatic doing?!

Finally, you reach for your phone again and angrily open his messages as you start moving again.

Not My Sy: Hmm, I see youve been busy in your phone settings. Cant say Im fond of the change. Allow me to fix it for you.

My Sy: Much better.

My Sy: Oh, I see how it is. A certain kitten thinks I can be left on read without any consequences. Are we feeling a little sullen today, sweetie?

My Sy: Hmm, I see that you decided not to wear one of my gifts out today on your little jaunt to one of my establishments. Probably for the best. They fit you perfectly, but expose enough skin that theyre not very practical for a brisk autumn afternoon at the arcade. Good call.

My Sy: I also dont think the teenagers you just slaughtered at the arcade could have handled the loss and the gorgeous view.

My Sy: Ah, would we prefer vibration as stimulation this afternoon? Im happy to help with that.

My Sy: Pick

My Sy: Up

My Sy: Your

My Sy: Phone

My Sy: I

My Sy: Can

My Sy: Do

My Sy: This

My Sy: All

My Sy: Day

My Sy: You

My Sy: Look

My Sy: Adorable

My Sy: When

My Sy: Youre

My Sy: Mad

My Sy: Like

My Sy: A

My Sy: Fluffy

My Sy: Little

My Sy: Kitten

My Sy: Back

My Sy Arched

My Sy: Fur

My Sy: Puffed

As the wall of messages load, you stop so quickly on the sidewalk that someone bumps into you from behind. You barely resist the urge to launch them into traffic with a one armed shoulder throw. Two more messages pop up.

My Sy: Oh I like the look on your face now

My Sy: Makes me want to grab you by the tail

The person behind you has the good sense to just keep going without saying anything to you, but that may have something to do with the fact that you’re now spinning in circles, eye darting wildly in an attempt to locate Sylus, or Mephisto, or the twins, or some security camera, so that you can take out whatever eyes are feeding Sylus your image right now.

You: where is it?

Instead of an answering text, your phone begins to vibrate in your hand, and … a picture you did not take appears on the screen along with Sylus’s incoming call.

In the photo, Sylus is leaning against your pillows, one arm leisurely bent behind his head, his bare bulky chest on full display as he lifts the phone with his other arm. You are fast asleep on top of him, face turned so that all that is visible in the picture is your hair—bedhead on full inglorious display. It is clear from the photo that you have your face smashed between Sylus’s man tits. He is smiling wide, the laughter clear in bright eyes that stare straight into the camera lens and now into you, with your mouth agape at finding this as his contact picture on your phone.

He must be texting while letting the call continue, because the notification of a new text pops up over his contact picture.

My Sy: I can work with this facial expression too.

You shut your mouth so fast and hard that your teeth click.

My Sy: While I love your teeth most of the time, well need to work on that bite.

Before your brain melts from imagining what he could do with your open mouth and how he’d handle your sharp teeth, you slam your thumb on the end call button, power down your phone, stuff it back in your pocket, and begin marching toward the metro station to get home. Fuck him. Fuck the tacos. You’ll go to Xavier’s apartment with the spare key he gave you for when he’s out of town, order takeout, and hide for the rest of the night.

Suddenly, your phone begins vibrating once again. You stop again, this time startling a pair of teenage girls who take one look at your face and cross to the other side of the street before continuing in the same direction. Great, now you’re not just pummeling children at video games, but scaring them as well. You open your phone and see Sylus calling again. You stare at the one nipple you can see in the picture. Your mouth waters. You’re not even surprised that he has fucked with your phone to the point that he can simply turn it back on remotely if you decide to turn it off.

My Sy: I told you kitten, I can do this all day. Some friendly advice: might as well accept the inevitable and pick up. Im used to your attention now. I don’t like being ignored.

The phone keeps ringing, vibrating in your hand. You let your hands hang at your sides, and tilt your head to look up into the crisp, sunny autumn sky.

You wonder if you’re strong enough for this. You can eliminate wanderers in your sleep. You can outmanoeuvre, outfight, outgun and outlast most hostile humans. You can even outsmart and outplay most people you meet when you’ve had a proper night’s sleep. But you’ve never met anyone like Sylus Qin. You can’t hide in Xavier’s flat forever. No matter how friendly you’ve become since you first partnered with him, he’d probably throw you out the window if you tried. And eventually, Sylus will come to collect what he thinks you owe him for allowing you to shoot him through the fucking heart. Wouldn’t it better to pretend to be on good terms with him, to make it as painless as possible? Instead of being a stone wall, trying to keep him and all the ways you know he can already hurt you out, you can be like water. Let him and the pain he’ll bring simply… pass right through you. Water is resilient. And if he burns you, well. You already saw it coming, right? You’ll simply dissipate into a puff of steam and float away. With enough time, you’ll heal—you’ll re-coalesce in the atmosphere, and you’ll fall back into yourself like rain. You can survive him, if you can adapt quickly enough.

You lift the phone, dig your earbuds out of one of your pockets and put them in your ears, and then answer his video call.

“Took you long enough,” Sylus’s beautiful voice flows directly into your brain.

“Sorry, I was a bit busy. Can I help you with something?” You close your eyes and will your face to relax, let your shoulders fall. You breathe in, the earthy scent of dying leaves filling your nostrils. You are water. You open your eyes.

He’s staring at you through the phone, a slight frown on his severely handsome face.

“Sylus?” You hold the phone a little closer to yourself as people flow around you on the sidewalk. When you look back, he’s still just… watching you.

“I have to admit, sweetheart, that this is not the greeting I was expecting when you finally picked up.”

“And what were you expecting?” You decide to keep walking. You’ll be fine. This will be fine. Multitasking is good. One foot in front of the other, and Sylus’s face, so distant, but still in the palm of your hand, in a small way. You can be satisfied with this.

He takes a moment, seems to choose his words carefully. “A little more life,” he responds. You let your hand holding the phone fall to your side for a moment. It will take a little while, to fully get into the headspace where whatever he says, can’t affect you. You just need a little more time. You breathe, you breathe, you breathe.

You bring the phone back up to your face, make your way through the crowd on the sidewalk. People must be scrambling to enjoy the last few bright days of the year before the long slide into the dark fall. You hadn’t expected so many to be out and about on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

“One would think you’d be used to me disappointing you by now,” you say, shrugging. “Can you tell me why you called?”

Sylus suddenly looks angry, and you resist the fear-fueled urge to throw your phone. You haven’t seen him look at you like that since… well. For a while.

“Sylus?”

“In what universe have you ever disappointed me?” he asks, voice even, controlled.

You can’t help it. You laugh. The kind of laugh that can spiral into something unhinged, if you weren’t water. Instead, it sinks into you like a stone. “Oh, I dunno, maybe this one, when you literally said ‘How disappointing’ and sneered that there was something wrong with me when I couldn’t resonate with you,” you say drily. You are water. Whatever he says next will simply ripple through you, and then fade into stillness.

But he doesn’t say anything. You peek at the phone screen. He’s looking away, his hand covering his mouth. You can’t tell what expression he’s making. Maybe Luke and Kieran are doing something silly offscreen.

In the end, none of it matters. “Okay, well, if you don’t want to tell me, I’m about to head into the metro. You can send a text if you change your mind.” Your thumb hovers over the end call button.

“I need your … particular talents this evening,” he answers right before your skin makes contact with the screen.

Oh. He really did have a reason to call— he needed your help with something dangerous.

That’s fine. You hadn’t actually had the fleeting thought that maybe he was calling because he just wanted to hear your voice, the way you never, ever found yourself feeling. Even in the past few days, since the Unfortunate Event of the Other Morning.

“And Kieran and Luke are unavailable this evening? Or anyone else from your hoard of henchmen who you can order to come back you up?” You’re being herded in a mass of other bodies into the metro station. You notice for the first time that Sylus is dressed really nicely—some sort of vest over a button down shirt. You find yourself trying to hold the phone discretely to minimize other people being able to see what you’re seeing.

“Kieran and Luke do not possess your particular talents. And besides, why would I want to see them this evening? I have to look at them on a daily basis, the last thing I want is to have to see them on a Saturday night.”

“I see. Had enough of a break from seeing me that you can stomach it again?” You smile, smooth as ice. Ice is just frozen water, right? You can ask Zayne to help—pick his brain to figure out how he stays so calm, in the face of so much chaos, not revealing a damn thing.

Sylus is just staring at you again, silver brows furrowed.

“So is it like, bring a gun to a knife fight kind of thinking? Do you really think that whatever situation you want my help with is too dangerous even for your minions?”

He just continues staring at you, and if anything, looks more displeased. You have no idea why he seems so pissed off. Maybe he’s rethinking asking for your help. You might be able to watch those movies after all.

“I see now that I've made a grave miscalculation,” he finally answers, rubbing his forehead. He suddenly sounds … tired? Or sad? You're so bad at reading other people.

You have no idea what you’re supposed to say to that, but you feel bad that he seems to be so exhausted and it sounds like your fault. You decide that you’ll help him tonight, with whatever he needs. And then maybe you will have finally, finally balanced the scales between you. And then you’ll be free.

After a few moments of you just awkwardly watching him in silence, he seems to come back to himself. “Why bring a gun to a knife fight when you can bring a grenade launcher?” He adjusts the buttons on the deep red vest under his tailored black suit jacket. The black shirt underneath the vest has its first few buttons undone, exposing his pale throat and collarbone. He’s also wearing a black leather collar, and you once again imagine a cute, bell on it, chiming with every one of his movements. You do not think about slipping a finger under the thick strip of leather and pulling him down, down to your level.

You shake your head. “I’m the grenade launcher in this little metaphor? What about you?”

“Do you even need to ask?” He pulls a watch over his hand, something antique and mechanical that probably ticks loudly when its quiet, and it clicks heavily as he fastens it on his thick wrist. You suddenly think of the night you spent searching for his brooch, the handcuffs around those same wrists, how he let them hold him there for you as your hands ran along his arms, under his soft silk robe, across—

“Then I think you’ll do just fine on your own tonight,” you clip out, wondering how much it would hurt if you slammed your face into the metro car’s heavily smudged, reinforced window in an effort to dislodge the intrusive thoughts that have become alarmingly frequent the longer you let this man stay in your life.

“Violence should be used strategically, sweetie. I would prefer to reserve the nuclear option for when it’s actually necessary. And isn’t it your job as an upstanding citizen to de-escalate conflict? Having you by my side will not only be useful for me, but is actually a public service for any bystanders.”

“I serve Linkon City, not the N109 zone.” You don’t know why you’re arguing. You had already made up your mind to help him. But the return of this familiar, smug and argumentative Sylus seems to pull you back into the pattern that is so easily repeated between the two of you.

“What an appallingly shortsighted response from someone who I know has gone to other cities and even other countries to fight wanderers in order to protect non-Linkon City citizens. Are the people of the N109 zone not also worthy of your devotion?”

It’s hot in the metro car, and you’re relieved as your stop approaches. You wait until you’re able to shoulder your way out of the mass of bodies and can breathe fresh air in order to respond freely.

“For shit’s sake Sylus, how did we go from hesitation about whether you actually need me to serve as your bodyguard tonight to me failing my duty to protect innocent people?”

“Is that honestly the only thing you can imagine when I request your talents? When did I ask you to be my bodyguard?” he asks, but before you can respond, he continues, “You’re the one who insists that you aren’t available to help people in the N109 zone tonight.”

“You, Sylus. Not people, you.” You step aside to allow a man with an adorable tiny fluffy dog move past, but it stops and sniffs you instead of moving along. You glance at the man, who’s actually quite handsome in a Finance Guy kind of way, which means he’ll be handsome to you up until the point he opens his mouth, but you can’t resist asking “May I pet this cutie?”

The guy’s face lights up. “Go ahead! Cricket loves pats.”

“Aww, Cricket is such an adorable name for such an adorably doggy!” You kneel down and offer your hand for Cricket to sniff, and then run your hand along the dog’s soft fur. It preens and arches its back, and then curls its hips around to ensure that you give it scritches near its tail.

“Aren’t you a good doggy,” you murmur, feeling the tension melt from your shoulders. You would love to have a pet, if you only had the time to take care of it. You give Cricket one final pat, and then stand back up. “Thank you, I really needed that,” you smile at Cricket’s dad.

“Anytime! Do you live in the neighborhood? Maybe, if you want—”

Suddenly you hear a loud crash on the other end of the phone, and the shock makes you wince.

“Or not,” the man rushes out. “It was just a thought.” He waves awkwardly, and then continues along his way, having to pull on Cricket's lead a little bit as the dog only reluctantly moves away from you.

You’re left standing there, wondering what the hell just happened. You look back down to your phone, where Sylus is looking somewhere off screen with a bored expression on his face. “The fuck, Sylus?”

“My apologies for interrupting your little interlude. It appears Mephisto knocked my phone off my nightstand,” he shrugs. “He’s not as well-behaved as… Cricket, it would seem.”

Interlude? What interlude? Petting a dog? “Uh, okay? I thought Mephisto isn’t a pet.”

“Correct.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but he remains serenely silent. “So why are we comparing Mephisto to a random dog on the street?”

“We’re not,” he lies. You stare at him. He seems to think for a moment, eyes moving back to the screen, taking in whatever he’s seeing on your side. Probably an unflattering view of your chin disappearing into your neck as you look directly down at your phone, still trying to weave through people on the sidewalk to get to your flat. You lower your head even further, trying to give him a good view up your nostrils, as a treat. There is no universe in which you care about what you look like to him. None. Certainly not this one. Finally, he speaks. “In any case, back to business. How about I make you a deal?”

In your happy break petting Cricket you had forgotten about the world, including what Sylus is demanding of you.

“If you come to me… and lend me your talents tonight, I’ll owe you a favor.”

You snort. “You already owe me for every day I haven’t delivered your head to my employer.”

“Then I’ll owe you a favor that I actually acknowledge owing to you,” he responds calmly. “Because I think you benefit just as much as I do from not delivering any piece of me, including my … head, to the authorities.”

You do not imagine any pieces of him. Delivering them, or doing anything else with them.

You’re finally within sight of your building. “I see. So you’ll owe me a favor. Any restrictions? Or are you actually offering me anything I want?”

“Anything you want. No restrictions, no conditions.”

“What if I told you to turn yourself in?” you ask, genuinely curious if he actually has no limits on this so-called favor.

“Done,” he says easily. Your feel your eyes widen, and he continues. “But again, for the same reasons that you haven’t already betrayed me, I don’t think that’s the favor you’ll call in.”

“And you’re really willing to place all your bets on that? Maybe I just haven’t turned you in out of laziness.” You watch him slip a pair of gloves on one big hand, and then the other, the supple leather gliding over his hands like a second skin.

“I’m all in on that bet.”

“And why’s that?”

“You are the furthest from the definition of laziness that I have ever encountered,” he says gravely. “And let’s just say, aside from the aforementioned benefits you enjoy with me walking around free, I think you’re more fond of me than you care to admit, even to yourself.”

You make a disgusted noise. “Let’s hope for your sake that your confidence isn’t misplaced.”

“Oh, there is no question that my confidence, in all things, is justified,” he smiles, one corner of his mouth quirking.

His arrogance is so thick, even through the phone, that you could gag on it. “Ugh,” is all you can say.

“Excellent. See you at 23:00. I’ll text you the address. I advise dressing appropriately and to bring the toy I left you when I had a headache, kitten.” And with that, he disconnects the call, leaving you standing in your elevator, wondering what the hell you just agreed to.

And now, here you are. Black leather pants, combat boots, a semiautomatic with red flames engraved along the hand grip in your side holster underneath your black leather jacket, various knives strapped along your forearms and in your boots. You brought two duffel bags with you. One is full of toys that might be useful if things get really ugly. The other simply contains something of Sylus’s that you’ve been wanting to return ever since he left it at your place. As you were getting ready, it occurred to that this might be the last chance you have to give it to him.

You’re standing in line in front of some upscale nightclub, waiting for your turn to be judged by the bouncer and either admitted or refused. Likely the latter, if Sylus doesn’t show up soon.

You showed up at exactly 23:00, approaching the long line with trepidation. You hadn’t realized when Sylus sent the address that it was actually a nightclub called Amnesia—a rather exclusive nightclub, with a selective policy regarding who they allow in. You hadn’t realized this until you saw the subtle sign glowing softly in the N109 zone's perpetual gloom and did a quick search on your phone. Most of the club goers are dressed in surprisingly tasteful club clothes—tightly tailored pants, artfully low necklines and backless tops, sensual dresses, except the sequins—so, so many shiny sequins. You squint and wonder how the hell you’re going to get in dressed like you’re ready for a biker rally with an arsenal big enough to stage a small coup. Mission objective number one, adequate renaissance of the target location: failed. But it’s your bedtime and you don’t even want to be here in the first place, so this is Sylus’s problem to solve. You wait. And you wait. The line inches forward. The longer you wait, the more irritated you get. Where the fuck is he? You glance at your phone, but there are no new messages.

So you dutifully stand in line, which continues forward at a very slow pace, quickly outpaced by your anger. You notice that the group of women in front of you have clearly been pre-gaming pretty hard. They’ve noticed you, and are side-eyeing your outfit. You’re worrying they’re going to say something mean, when one of them glides over to you effortlessly on very tall high heels. You straighten your spine and prepare yourself. I am a role model for the Deepspace Hunter’s Association, I will not punch a civilian in the solar plexus for saying something mean to me about the fact that I am a fashion disaster. I will not—

“You look so badass,” she grins, tossing her silky brunette hair over her shoulder. One of her friends sidles up behind her. “For real, and like, really hot. This whole look is a vibe.” She waves one beautifully manicured nail in front of you, to encompass the whole of your outfit.

You squint again, wondering if they’re making fun of you, but the entire lot of them are nodding and chattering amongst themselves. “Is it like, a cosplay event or something? Did we miss the announcement on Amnesia’s socials? I want to dress like I can murder someone with a look too!”

“Hey, I think most of our heels are sharp enough to count as weapons, right?” the first one says to her friend, and then looks at you hopefully for… confirmation? Approval?

“Oh, definitely,” you encourage her, because she really does seem earnest. “You can stomp your opponent on the foot or go for the groin! And you know, if you hold your keys like this,” you say, fishing your motorcycle keys out of your leather pants and holding the long, narrow part of the key between the knuckles of your index and middle finger while clutching the wider base in your palm, “you can use them as an improvised shiv! Just go for the eyes! Or the throat!”

You’re met with a chorus of “Ooooohs,” and wide, perfectly winged eyes. You’re feeling like a pretty good teacher when your phone dings. You fish it out of the inside of your leather jacket.

My Sy: Youre late.

You glare at the screen.

“Can you teach us that look, too? You look like you really want to end someone,” one of the women asks hesitantly. You nod.

You: no, you’re late. i’ve been standing out front since 23:00.

You look back up to your new friend and point at your eyebrows, lowering them to an exaggerated degree. She nods and tries to mimic you. Her gorgeous, perfectly plucked brows form a scowl. You nod and look back at your phone.

My Sy: Youre standing in front of the club?

You: huh, mr. sylus qin’s not as omniscient as he likes to pretend. looks like you should fire mephisto.

My Sy: No such luck, sweetie. Ive decided to put him on permanent kitten observation duty after tonight. Why are you standing out front, instead of going inside?

You point at your chin now, and lower your head so that you’re looking at the club girl like a bull about to charge. She gives you a thumbs up and lowers her head, and then stomps her foot for good measure.

You: because there’s a line. which you’d know, if you bothered to show up.

My Sy: Of course. I should have known youd obey the rules and refuse to jump the line. Another miscalculation on my part. Stay put.

You roll your eyes. Of course he expects you to just keep waiting. Maybe he needs to find a parking spot. You turn to your friend. “Yeah, you look really intimidating now! Do that to the next person who hits on you and won’t take no for an answer.” You grin at her.

She laughs and you two proceed to try to out-glare each other, until you see her eyes go wider than previous attempts. You tense when you sense a large presence behind you, but calmly turn, hand drifting to your jacket holster containing the gun Sylus gave you.

It’s just the bouncer. Or at least, you think she’s the bouncer. She’s tall, muscular, and has a tight black t-shirt with Amnesia written in small, tasteful letters in the middle, right under the collar.

“Are you…” she pauses, and checks her tablet again. “The boss’s ‘sweet little hunter?’” she intones, clearly reading the words against her will, but she manages to keep the look of disgust that you’re pretty sure is trying to fight its way onto her face from appearing with admirable professionalism.

“By boss, you mean…?” You already know the answer. Of course you do. Your anger ratchets up another notch.

“Mr. Sylus Qin,” she says. “So are you the hunter, or not?”

You nod. “All right, follow me.” She lifts the velvet rope, and your new friends wave enthusiastically and cheer loudly for you as the bouncer leads you past the crowd and into the club. You stare at the bouncer's back, where her shirt reads ‘security’ in large block letters. She has an obvious pistol harness crisscrossed over her strong shoulders with two semiautomatics strapped into each holster. This is the N109 zone after, all. It doesn’t surprise you that Sylus’s bouncers are well-armed.

Once inside, she gestures vaguely towards the back of the huge space and says “He’s waiting for you in the Lethe VIP lounge.” And then she’s gone.

You quickly scan your surroundings, assessing threats, noting exits and bottlenecks. The atmosphere is completely different than THE BOOM BOOM ROOM, the only club you’ve visited recently. This place smells expensive. No stale beer and stale sweat, but probably diffusers hidden along the walls that emit the scent of sandalwood and other subtle spices. The music is full of reverb, heavy, with slow beats, sensual—specifically composed to make the listener feel reckless and sexy after a few strong drinks. The décor is a blend of vintage details and modern sleekness, and somehow it works to create the impression of tasteful decadence.

A long, dark wooden bar lines one wall, with standing tables and booths filling the space in front of it. Vases of fresh, dark-petaled flowers sit on each surface. Beyond the seating area, the dance floor spreads out in front of a slightly raised stage, where a DJ is playing to coordinated LED lights. Acrobatic performers, faces painted to resemble crying jesters and theatrical masks, hang suspended by hoops from the ceiling above the dance floor. They slowly twist and arch their bodies through, over, and off the hoops, spinning gently over the heads of the surging dancers.

If nothing else, it has been worth coming tonight to watch one in particular, with curly ginger hair, lean chest bare, arching gracefully through a sequence, bowing their back until their foot touches the top of their head. You wonder what kind of mobility exercise routine is required to attain that level of flexibility, and make a note to do an online search—but you’re here on a mission. Although the longer you look, the less you understand why Sylus asked for your help tonight. The place is crawling with security. He has a small army on staff. Why does he need you?

As your assessing gaze continues to wander, you see two familiar figures at the far end of the bar. And a third, unfamiliar person standing with them. From across the darkened, tastefully lit room, you see a beautiful woman. She’s wearing a tasteful suit, dark hair coiled in beautiful braids. She’s laughing at something one of the twins has just said, her slender hand on his shoulder. They have the easy familiarity of people who have known each other for a long time.

She looks like who you had imagined, as Sylus told you that you had the sophistication of a cactus. You look down at your scuffed combat boots. The clunky duffel bags clutched in your gloved hands, in this beautiful nightclub full of beautiful people. You look back at Sylus’s associates. One of the twins has his masked face turned towards you, but you have no idea if he has noticed you. You turn away.

You are water. You can drown in yourself, before anyone can drown you first. You won’t give them the satisfaction. You focus on the dancers again. The handsome ginger catches your eye, and smiles. Your heart hurts, they’re so pretty.

You haven’t heard shit from Sylus since he told you to sit tight. He didn’t bother to give you proper intel about this night at all. And he clearly already has all the security he could possibly need in this edgy, sensual monstrosity of an establishment. You’re suddenly so pissed you can hardly see straight. You could be watching John Wick 16: the Penultimate Chapter right now, but instead your heart is drowning in your chest and the person he was probably dreaming about the other morning is in the same damn room. You make a fist and pound your chest, once, hard, right over your heart.

The pain brings you back to your senses. You turn away from the dancers, find a staircase leading to the upper floors of the club, and take two steps at a time, relieved that the rooms on the top floor have elegant nameplates, each named after something in mythology regarding memory and the psyche. You stop in front of a black door with the plate reading ‘Lethe’, and kick open the door. What? Your hands are fucking full.

Inside, the room is as over the top and beautiful as the lower floors of the club. You have an impression of deep maroon walls, black leather furniture, low-slung and perfect for fucking, for an orgy really, your intrusive thoughts tell you. There are people: the twins, the woman. Huh. They must have slipped upstairs while you were staring at the dancers again. And there are two men, but you only catalogue the men long enough to determine that they are not visibly armed. No threats. All you can see now is the relaxed man straight ahead of you, at the back of the room, his arms stretched wide across the back of the black leather booth, manspreading as usual.

You reach down, fling the duffel full of weapons over your shoulder, and unzip the other, incredibly full one as you stride towards the smug asshole who summoned you here.

“Finally, I was starting to—” Sylus’s voice hardly penetrates the fog of rage coursing through you.

“I have a present for you,” you interrupt him, and he perks up, a subtle smile lifting one corner of his beautiful mouth, but that’s the last you see of him before you expertly launch the absolutely stuffed duffel bag at him. It lands on his lap, where you aimed it, and the feathers he left on your bed the other morning explode into the air and gently rain down on him, covering him from head to toe in a thick layer of black. At least the landslide that has spread from him to the booth are hardly distinguishable from the leather.

You were right. The only thing you can hear in the ensuing silence is the tick of his fancy fucking watch.

You close your eyes. That felt good. You open them. He’s still sitting in the same relaxed position, but now there are black feathers caught in his silky silver hair, dusting his shoulders, filling his lap. He makes no effort to brush them off.

“You really didn’t have to, kitten,” he says peacefully into the ticking, shocked silence. "You already had my attention without launching another aerial assault."

“I know. But I couldn’t bear the thought of how sad the feathers would be, separated from you. I couldn’t just leave them to suffer on my bed.”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you slam your hand over it. Oh shit. If that woman really is his actual object of interest, you just made it sound like something is going on between you and Sylus that most definitely isn’t. You glance at her. She’s watching you from between the twins, and has a grin on her face. Maybe she didn’t hear…?

Someone clears their throat. You turn again, this time sweeping your gaze over the two well-dressed, handsome men, one seated next to Sylus and (you wince) who caught some of the feather fallout, and the other seated across the low table from Sylus. They’re dressed sharply, but not like they’re going clubbing. Almost like this is a… business meeting. But the dude who got caught as collateral feather damage is seated like, really close to Sylus. Now that you're actually looking at him, you realize that he’s really beautiful. Like, as pretty as Xavier. He's looking at Sylus, grinning from ear to ear. His teeth are blindingly white. Maybe it’s not the beautiful woman who Sylus was dreaming about, but this guy?

Why do you even care? You are a waterfall, drowning out any inconvenient feelings about this wanted felon. You are not a psycho who assumes that everyone who breathes the same air as Sylus is a potential romantic rival. Not even a rival, because you’re not competing. This is not a competition, you have no horse in this race, this is neither your circus nor your monkeys, you were just the hired help for the evening and it’s clear that there is a surplus of staff in the security department tonight so you’re going to go home and watch a man murder a football stadium worth of humans because of a puppy.

“Well, I’m so sorry to have interrupted,” you say, as if you had just accidentally peeked into the wrong room, instead of careening in here like a cannonball and launching a full scale feather assault on the owner of the establishment like a lunatic. “I will get out of your feathers—I mean, hair.” You bow slightly, because why the fuck not, tighten your hold on your remaining duffel. Sylus can just keep the other one—you definitely do not want a souvenir from this night. You then stride back the way you came.

You refuse to turn and look at Mister Toothpaste Commercial sitting next to Sylus again as you go. But as you approach the twins, you can’t help but take one last look at the woman since she’s standing next to your exit. You’re just curious. Nothing else. Just a curious little… lake. Because you’re water. And nothing can hurt you if you’re just a placid lake in a serene forest.

Yikes, after getting a better look at her face, you realize she is young. Like, teenager young? Okay, age gaps are fine if both parties have a certain level of maturity. Who are you to judge? You hope if she is the one he wants to bite that they’re happy together. Really. You’re just the bottom of the ocean, and you can survive great pressure.

“Are you just going to leave right after giving me such a considerate gift, without allowing me to even thank you?” Sylus’s sardonic voice seems to fill the room.

You stop, but can’t bring yourself to turn around. “No thanks necessary. It's not even a gift. Just returning property to its rightful owner.” You take another step.

“What about our deal? You still haven’t given me what we bargained for tonight.”

This time you turn your head. “I’m pretty sure you have enough security for your needs tonight. Let’s just call everything off, okay? No one owes anyone anything, and you can offer that favor to someone else.” You look at the girl, but she’s not smiling anymore—rather, she’s looking at you with… confused disgust? Fuck it’s hard to read people. Maybe she’s suffering from intestinal gas. Maybe Sylus carries around lactase tablets for both the twins and his girlfriend.

Someone clears their throat behind you. “Sir, perhaps I should return another time when you’re not so entangled in… domestic strife,” a respectful voice sounds behind you. You whip around. The man seated across from Sylus and wearing a nicely tailored blue suit is glancing between you and Sylus.

“Oh no,” you say, holding up your gloved hands. “No, sorry, this isn’t .. a domestic anything. Like, we are not like that.” You shake your head. The man suddenly looks relieved. You feel encouraged. You don’t want Mister Toothpaste Commercial or Miss Jailbait to get the wrong idea. You’re nobody.

You look at Sylus. He just looks steadily back at you, as if waiting to see what the next spectacle you have to offer will be. Why isn’t he saying anything to deny such an absurd allegation?

“So you are not the partner he wanted to introduce to me tonight, is that correct?”

He wanted to introduce his partner to this guy? Who even is this guy? You know what? None of your business. All you need to know is that he does, in fact, have a partner, and that partner, is in fact, not you, and it doesn’t matter that he helped you fall asleep a few times and touched you like you were precious, because he has a partner and that partner is not you and might be the child bride over there in the corner or the teeth whitening product model on the booth next to him. You are water so deep that you’re the Marianas trench. You’re so deep, no life can survive at all. You ignore the fact that you think you read somewhere that little weird volcanic tube worms can survive down there. Because where there’s no life, there’s no pain: the only solace of death. You’re fine. No tube worms at all.

“That’s correct. Just ask him! I mean, I’m not his type. And honestly, he’s not mine.”

The man looks alarmed for a moment, like he is afraid for you to keep going. But you do anyway. You try really hard to think about why Sylus wouldn’t be your type, when everything about him is gorgeous and intelligent and fascinating and when he wants to be, so, so sweet. “I mean, I’m only interested in someone who is tall. And who clearly spends enough time in the gym. Like, ripped. And who’s actually incredibly bright, who can make running multiple businesses look easy. And someone who seems really scary at first glance, but is actually heartbreakingly sweet when he feels like it. And funny! Who can honestly make me laugh on the worst day of my life.” You trail off. Clear your throat. “So no. Sylus is not my type.” You snap your mouth shut. You rub your heart—it must still ache from when you hit it earlier. That’s all this pain is.

The man, who has nice dark hair, and nicely trimmed facial hair, and nice shoes that may be oxfords or brogues but you have no fucking clue which, nods slowly, as if what you just said isn’t wildly awkward. “Oh, so when you said you wanted to introduce us to your partner,” he looks back curiously at Sylus, then at the woman standing with the twins. “Are you who he meant?”

Okay, is this guy just going to ignore Mister Toothpaste Commercial as a potential love interest? Maybe he’s bi-phobic. You don't know where Sylus's tastes lie. Again, not your business. You’re going to stomp your phone to smithereens the second you get out of here, you’re not going to stay at Xavier’s, because it’s too close to home. You’re going to Rafayel’s, and you’re going to sell your place. You’re going to apply for a hunter position in the arctic. You will be surrounded by snow there, all the frozen water you could ever want, and you’re never going to find yourself in such a fucked up situation ever again.

“I’m afraid not,” Sylus says. “She's not my type.”

You pause, just for a second. You don’t actually want to hear why she’s not his type, because in the end, it’s not your business. And even if you thought she was his partner there for a few minutes, you don’t want to hear him say things that might hurt her feelings. Because you know how it feels to be on the receiving end of Sylus's disdain, and it sucks.

“I’m only interested in someone who is effortlessly surprising." He looks at you. "Who uses their strength to protect the weak, instead of exploiting them. Whose tongue is sharp enough to match my own. A tongue I don’t mind surrendering myself to, to be shredded on again, and again.”

Again, there’s only the ticking of that insufferable, sexy watch on his insufferable, thick wrist.

Your heart doesn’t hurt at his description. At all. You must have just really hit it a little too hard earlier. You're a raindrop. It's your job to splatter all over the ground. You're just doing your job. You've always been very, very good at doing your job.

The person he’s describing sounds fascinating, and the perfect match for him. He'll never get bored with them, and maybe their goodness will rub off on him. Good for him. You had wanted to be friends with him, right? Before you realized that you might actually have feelings beyond hate, beyond wanting to fuck his brains out and then never speaking to him again. This is good. Your friends deserve people they can care about the way he just described caring about this person. Everyone should get to experience that in their life, at least once.

The silence and your thoughts are shattered when Miss Child Bride snorts. “Thank fuck. Cause we already went over why that would be gross.” She turns to Kieran and Luke. “Now I see what you mean. What a shitshow.”

“Right?” One of the twins responds. “So are you in?”

“Yeah. But I see your two weeks and raise you two months.”

The other twin fist bumps her. “You’re on.”

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Clear the room,” he commands.

Kieran, Luke and Miss Jailbait all do little lackadaisical salutes and turn to leave. As the girl walks past you, she waves her hand in front of your face. You jerk back, hand instinctively going to the knife strapped on your thigh.

“Woah there, hunter. No need to get defensive.” She grins at you.

You suppress the urge to see how big she'd be smiling if you swept her legs out from under her sensible heels and then did a diving elbow drop onto her prone form as punishment for invading your space. She might be Sylus's partner and thus owed some respect because you respect him, but you don't like when people you don't know get in your space. “What the fuck was that for?” you ask instead, because you're polite.

“Just trying to see if you're blind.”

One of the twins puts his hand on her shoulder. “Rule number four: refrain from teasing boss’s pet hunter, or else he will get angry.”

“Yeah, cause he likes to do it himself.” The other twin chimes in, putting his hand on her other shoulder. “Let’s go get you to Linda before you're fired before you’re actually hired.” They guide her out the door.

You just stand there. You feel like what just happened is really offensive, to someone, somewhere, but you have no fucking clue why.

The two men have also gotten to their feet and are now moving past you, and Mister Toothpaste Commercial is grinning at you like you just made his night for some reason. Why is everyone in here a nutcase? you wonder hypocritically. You tighten your hold on your duffel and start trailing after them.

Only to be lifted in the air by the scarlet-ink tendrils of Sylus’s evol, its energy making the hair along your arms stand on end. “Not you, kitten.”

Against your will, you find yourself being carried gently to the booth and deposited onto the surprisingly soft leather, right next to Sylus. The feathers puff up, and then settle around you again.

Wordlessly, Sylus slips the duffel’s handle from your shoulder and with a little surprised grunt of effort, sets it on his other side. Yeah, it's heavy. You brought a lot of hardware in case things went south tonight. Which they did, just not in the way you anticipated. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him sweep a look from your head to your toes. “I tell you that I need your talents and to dress appropriately, and this is what you show up wearing?” he asks, as if all of the weirdness that just happened is of no significance. He sounds genuinely curious.

“Well, yeah. I can't wear my hunter gear into the N109 zone, and figured the leather was better than my usual cargo pants and harness. If we had to fight our way out of a group of assailants, or jump out of a window onto say, a gravel surface, this is still a lot more practical than…” you pause, eyeing his attire in turn. The black suit with the scarlet vest he is wearing is clearly tailored to fit him like the gloves stretching over his huge hands. You refuse to look at his hands. The fabric of his suit lovingly embraces his broad shoulders, nips in at his narrow waist, and leaves very little to the imagination regarding what he’s… packing, on both sides of the whole package. You will not think about what he is packing. What you felt against you, the other morning—

“I see. So this is what you consider your talents?” His voice mercifully interrupts your not thinking about bulges and the ‘Is that a billy club in your pants or are you just happy to see me’ dumpster fire in your head.

“This? What do you mean by ‘this’?”

“The ability to be prepared for any violent scenario and meet it with competence, in the service of someone else.” His blood bright eyes bore into you, and you know he’s not using his aether core on you, but it kind of feels like it.

“What else could you have meant?” you ask, genuinely confused. You eliminate wanderers. You fight, apprehend and on occasion, have had to kill humans who would have killed you if you had hesitated. You can’t think of any other talents you might possess that Sylus would want. Or any other talents, at all. Even if you could remember who you were when you were a child, you’ve been a hunter long enough now that it’s hard to remember who you were before you put on the uniform and dedicated yourself to defending those who are unable to defend themselves.

“Yes, what indeed? Good question, kitten.”

“And you didn’t tell me that you wanted me to meet you at one of your nightclubs,” you mutter, the irritation surging again. “If you didn’t want me to show up and embarrass you, ready for a fight, you could have just said so.”

“Is proper intel gathering before going on a mission not part of your hunter’s handbook?” Sylus asks, running a finger along your leather-clad shoulder.

“Of course it is.”

“Then why didn’t you investigate the location of our rendezvous tonight before heading out?”

You look away from him, staring through what you now realize is a one-way mirror. The room looks out over the two floors below, each with dance floors and bars, pulsating lights, tables adorned with those strange beautiful flowers. The undulating bodies of dancers are lit dramatically from the light show pulsing to the rhythm of the music.

You frown. “Since it was you, I just assumed it was some shady warehouse or something.”

Sylus is quiet, but you feel his finger continue drifting along your shoulder until his hand comes to rest on the back of the booth near your other shoulder. “That’s an unfortunate habit you’ve had, since the first time we met.”

You turn to look at him, only to find his face so close to yours that you can count the dark striations in his red, red irises. They’re all you can see for a long moment.

“What do you mean?” you whisper, because anything else would feel like shouting in the quiet of the room, with his face so close to yours.

“Assuming things about me.”

You’re alert enough to know that he’s not just talking about your assumption that tonight would take place somewhere dangerous. Your thoughts flit to your assumption that he had… that he had been responsible for the house explosion. For your grandmother and Caleb. Your assumption that he wouldn’t have a plan for dealing with his enemies at the auction. Your assumption that he would take advantage of your nudity in the hallway of your home by looking his fill. What else have you assumed about him? You remember his bite along your shoulder, and the assumption that it was meant for someone else. “You only tell me what you feel like telling me. How else am I supposed to fill in the blanks?” you ask.

Sylus’s hand along the back of the booth drifts back to your shoulder, over the collar of your jacket, up the sensitive skin along the back of your neck. His fingers find their way into your hair, and he gently runs them through its locks. It feels so good, you have to stifle a groan of pleasure.

“You could always ask me,” he says.

“Would you even answer me? You have a habit of answering questions with other questions,” you sigh, giving in to the temptation to let your head fall back into his big palm, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. You try to let your hands rest at your sides, but jerk a little when one of them lands on his big thigh. You move it, but he grabs it with his hand that isn't busy in your hair, and rests it back on his thigh again. He’s so warm, as always. You shouldn’t want to let him touch you like this if he has someone else. You can’t bring yourself to move.

“Well, you won’t find out until you try, will you?” he asks. You let your head roll in his hand, so you can see his face.

“Who was that man sitting next to you earlier?” you ask. Maybe if you start simple, you’ll lull him into telling you the truth when you ask him what you really need to know. What you don’t want to actually know, because then the illusion of Sylus treating only you like this, the illusion that you’re special, will dissipate like mist under sunlight.

His fingers pause, but then he continues caressing you. “That’s Aidan.”

You wait. He stares at you steadily. “You’re really going to make me ask detailed follow up questions, instead of just answering the question fully?” you scowl at him, but don’t move. His hand in your hair feels too damn good. He smiles, clearly amused by your frustration.

“I don’t give away intelligence for free. I need something in return for providing you thorough responses to all of your burning questions.”

You sigh. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“What do you want, Sylus?” you ask. If the price is too high, you’ll somehow stand up and walk away, and live with wondering for the rest of your life about who these people in his life are, and if he belongs to someone else.

“The price will depend on the quantity of intel you request tonight,” he gently tugs on a fistful of your hair. You are boneless. You are melting into the couch from the pleasure, despite the negotiation.

“I could always use the favor you owe me for even coming out tonight,” you remind him.

“I think not. You haven’t earned that favor yet. The only thing you’ve done tonight is show up late and assault me with plumage.”

“Excuse you, I was here at exactly eleven. It’s you who were late in realizing that you didn’t exactly tell me where to find you. And as for my present, just think of it as me contributing to a more environmentally sustainable lifestyle. I could have just trashed them, but instead I re-gifted them. Now you can stuff a fleet of throw pillows or the body of an enemy to display as a warning to others.”

Sylus laughs softly. “What a delightful image.”

“I'm fucking delightful,” you sniff.

He hums in agreement. You both sit there in companionable silence, with only the distant sound of the club below and his hands moving in your hair filling the space between you. After awhile, he says, “So what will it be? Are you willing to buy now, and pay later for the opportunity to interrogate me?”

You want to know. You don’t want to know. You follow the sharp lines of his face with your eyes: his panther eyes, his aquiline nose, his generous mouth, the cut of his jaw. You’re so tired of making a decision, only to fold and abandon it in the face of his indomitable will. You want off this roller coaster ride already. You need to decide whether you’re in, and want to be a part of Sylus’s life, in whatever form he’ll have you, or out. And then, once you’ve made your decision, you need to have the steel resolve that he so effortlessly displays—if you’re in, you’ll bury your affection and misplaced hope in him, and treat him like any other friend. If you’re out, you will destroy your phone. You will move. You will ask for a transfer that will put you out of his reach for a long enough period of time that he’ll finally lose interest in toying with you. You sit up, and his hand falls away from your hair.

“Do you have a coin on you? The one you do that little villain bit with when your mind is racing?”

His eyebrows lift a little, as if he’s surprised that you noticed that he tends to fidget when he’s thinking hard. The corner of his mouth tilts up. “Villain bit?”

“Do you have it?” you repeat.

“I do.”

“May I use it for a moment?”

He stares at you, amusement fading. Whatever he sees on your face has him letting go of your hand and reaching for his pocket, but suddenly your own arm is jerked forward.  

“What the—” you try to pull away, but only succeed in slightly pulling Sylus’s arm back toward you. You look down and find the scarlet-golden glimmer of the energy shackles linking your wrist to his. You haven’t been linked like this since the one and only time you managed to resonate with him.

“The fuck, Sylus?”

Sylus looks down as well, and then scowls deeply. “Why are you asking me? I was wondering what was on your mind, but was willing to let you keep your secrets for now. However, now I must insist on knowing what’s going on in that busy brain of yours.” He lifts your linked hands and gently taps your forehead with his index finger.

You try to pull away again, but he just grasps your hand in his, tightly.

You glare at him. He stares at you.

You stick your tongue out at him.

“Careful, kitten. Don’t make offers you’re not ready for me to accept.”

You look away. The club below is fascinating. You will not let him win. Finally, you hear him huff. He brings your clasped hands to his trouser pocket, slipping both into it. You feel his strong hip along the back of your hand through the cloth of his pocket. He pulls your hands out again and releases yours. And then, coin held between his index and middle finger, he solemnly offers it to you.

“Which side comes up more often than the other?” you ask as you take it from his fingers with your unlinked hand, careful not to touch him.

“Tails,” he responds immediately. You don’t trust him for a second.

If it’s heads, you’ll walk away from him and the life that allows him access to you.

If it’s tails, you’ll ask him who these people were tonight and whether he has a partner. You’ll be his friend, no matter what, and close off that needy, delusional part of yourself that hopes for more from him, and you’ll never think of it again.

You toss the coin in the air and watch it as it flashes, twisting in the air. You catch it in your palm. You take a deep breath. You open your palm.

You are the water in a bottomless well. All of the things that can hurt you are down so deep, you’ll never be able to access them again. You let the fledgling feelings for this impossible man slip quietly into the well. You’re a serene pond, reflecting an endless blue sky, and there’s nothing underneath at all.

“Who is Aidan?” you ask.

[gaijinhunter]

I am writing this as a Tumblr post because I don't want to make a video, as I feel this person is just trying to engagement bait me so he can grow his channel. Looking at his videos, he has seen an increase in views for videos that have been clickbait or trying to "call out" something. I guess you gotta do what you gotta do to grow your channel, but I am not about that.

Iixxion recently made a video and for the third time already, is rambling on about how he has been annoyed that he ran into people that referred to the portable series of MH games as being developed by a different "B team" than the ones that make the non-portable game's "A team". Of course, that notion is incorrect, anyone with a brain knows that both lines of MH games are created by Division 2 in Capcom Osaka and that there is plenty of overlap between titles in terms of staff. He argues that this misconception is the cause of tribalism and animosity in the MH community and is the single most dangerous issue in terms of growing the user base. My perspective is that there is indeed a divide on people who like the portable series and those who don't (which is fine!), and released platforms also contributed to that division, but no one is writing off any mainline game (MH, MHF, MHG, MHF2, MH2, MHFU, MH3, MH3U, MHP3, MH4, MH4U, MHGen, MHGU, World, Iceborne, Rise, Sunbreak) because it was made by some separate unrelated team.

The issue is that he blames me for this apparent misconception and points to my video from 2020 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nhpDnFU6lAo) where I cover the rich history of KH games and how each of the games and the portable series' games, have influenced the franchise as a whole and what features each entry introduced. He says that my video is one of the main sources of this division and that it is somehow my vague wording around the different teams on each MH title has caused horrible damage and that I am irresponsible and lazy for this. (BRUH)

Not only was my video just 4 years ago and focused on the development history and features of each title, if there was tribalism between console and portable games, that existed long before 2020. But he uses a Staw Man argument to "call me out" which is to argue against the notion of an A team and B team that are completely separate from each other, which isn't something I ever said in the first place. When i corrected him, he counters with "so you agree with me then" and that is when I realized it would be useless to discuss with him and took a look across his past videos and found a pattern of engagement farming, so I decided to just delete my comments on his videos and walk away from it.

If you want to make an argument against vague wording, it could be him saying the only consistent difference between the members that work on a "console" game versus the "portable series" games is the Director. That OFC is not true.

Some fun data looking at staff rolls.

Very natural overlap in the areas that you'd imagine with game design and programming being the main specialized fields.

Now if you want to argue semantics, then there isn't even a "monster hunter team"--it simply doesn't exist. Only Capcom developers exist and if you had to split them into distinct teams, that is Division 1 and 2.

He would likely say "see, he is supporting my argument, told you!" or "why weren't you this clear in your history video" but that is because he is making a false connection between some crap he read online, and my video and he sees me as the main cause of this "tribalism". A very disappointing conclusion he came to. My video wasn't about team compositions, it was about the franchise title history, and I pulled and used data all from official sources and interviews with the directors themselves.

I guess when you work hard across multiple years to make fun and hopefully informative videos on a franchise, the more you get targeted with bad faith arguments or engagement farming. Doesn't make it less tiring...

Stop worrying about reddit user tribalism over console/portable games, the games do have a different game design philosophy and on different consoles, so some division is to be expected, and we have so much cool news to focus on than to waste time creating drama for clicks. Be better.

-Gaijinhunter

[fayes-fics]

An Artful Arrangement

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)

Summary: A private art lesson with Benedict becomes something else when a Viscount is your subject...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest. Very mild restraint with hands, sensation play, smidge of breast play, vaginal object insertion, vaginal fingering, oral sex (M to F), masturbation, vaginal sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism.

Word Count: 7.7k

Authors Note: Request fill for Anon, who wanted Anthony as a life model for one of Benedict's private art lessons. This request is from last year and I started writing it before the whole Benedict gives up art thing of s3. I hope artist Benedict returns in s4. Anyway, thank you to @colettebronte for beta-reading this monster. Enjoy! <3

“I’m not sure about this, brother,” Anthony frowns, surveying the jumbled art studio at Benedict’s London townhouse. 

Sunlight is streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the rear of the property, but Anthony is grateful for the translucent voiles that drape over them; at least there will be some privacy from the surrounding buildings for this embarrassment.

“Too bad,” Benedict shoots back, bemused, fiddling through a pile of paintbrushes.  “A bet is a bet, and you lost.”

“You do not need to revel in my misfortune quite this much, though,” Anthony pouts.

“What can I say? The mallet of death does not always ensure victory at Pall Mall,” Benedict chuckles, readjusting one of the two easels in the room. “And I can assure you, this student will be worth your efforts,” he adds enigmatically as his trusty valet appears in the doorway.

“Ms y/l/n is here, Mr Bridgerton,” Mr Smith announces. “Should I see her in?”

“Certainly,” Benedict nods brightly, observing in the periphery of his gaze how Anthony’s interest is piqued at that announcement.

“A Ms?” Anthony echoes quietly as Smith slips away. “I did not think you offered private art tuition to the unmarried lady,” his voice filled with concern, patently preoccupied with the Bridgerton family reputation should Benedict be inviting innocent young women to his bachelor lodgings unchaperoned.

“Do not concern yourself,” Benedict sighs, knowing exactly where the Viscount's thoughts have gone. “I indeed do not do that. I would not wish for that reputation. Widows who have reverted to their unmarried name, however….” Benedict trails off.

“Oh… right….” Anthony nods in understanding. 

That, indeed, is an entirely different prospect.

—

You enter the room and suspect you may have interrupted a private moment between the two men before you. Both turning towards you, Benedict looks happy to see you once more; the other man - you would recognise his older brother, the Viscount, anywhere - seems taken aback, but you don't miss the tiny uptick in the corner of his mouth, hopefully also pleased to meet you.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” you nod courteously and move towards Benedict, allowing him to take your hand and kiss the back of your glove in greeting.

“Ms y/l/n,” he rumbles, “it is so wonderful to see you again.”

“Likewise, Mr Bridgerton,” you answer, enjoying the warmth of his lips through the silk, that trademark flare of exhilaration in your ribcage when your flirtation with him rears. 

This is your fifth private lesson with Mr Bridgerton, and while art has been a wonderful new pastime, you do wonder how much of your enthusiasm correlates to your tutor’s attractiveness. He has been nothing but a gentleman in his actions, almost to your chagrin, although sometimes his glances have felt heated and laden with something that makes your insides glow.

You turn towards Anthony. “Viscount Bridgerton, it is a pleasure to meet you finally. I have seen you from afar at many an event.”

You take a few paces and offer your other hand for him to kiss, but it takes him a moment before he returns to himself and amends his frozen look of surprise.

“Miss y/l/n, the pleasure is all mine,” he replies, and there is something just as velvet in his tone as his brother's, his lips also warm and plush as he kisses your other hand.

Oh, my goodness. They are both entirely too charming and handsome.

“I apologise. When my brother informed me I would be modelling for a widow, I did not assume such a person as yourself,” he explains, his cheeks sporting a delightful dot of colour.

“I was widowed at age 24, my lord,” you explain, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “My late husband, 10th Earl of Pembroke, was a great deal older than me.” 

“Should we not address you as Dowager Countess?” Anthony checks, concerned at any potential faux pas.

“Please do not,” you instantly respond. “It is why I reverted to my unmarried name. I have no wish to be addressed as such. The title lives on in his eldest son, the current Earl, and his wife. Who are indeed older than me. I was my husband's second wife. A companion for his senior years after his first wife died.”

Anthony nods in understanding. “It must have been an interesting union,” he offers politely.

“I was seventeen, and the man was nearly sixty,” you sigh. “My parents saw an opportunity to climb the social ladder and took it. I did not dislike the man completely, but I cannot say I was particularly distraught at his passing,” you explain plainly. “I am, of course, grateful his estate provides for me now.”

Having explained your situation as thoroughly as you wish, you turn back towards Benedict, who appears thoroughly entertained by your bluntness.

“Is this my easel?” you enthuse, pointing to the one nearest the windows.

“Indeed it is,” he returns with a smile as he strides past you and clicks the door closed.

“Now the question is, would you prefer your model be clothed or unclothed? You have not done a piece yet on the naked human form,” he points out.

You look over to see Anthony’s face morph into a thousand reactions.

“That was not part of the deal, brother,” he warns lowly through gritted teeth.

“Maybe not, but I think the lady should get to decide, do you not, brother?” Benedict challenges in a tone laced with amusement, his eyes sparkling.

You can see the war on Anthony’s face and decide to offer an olive branch. “I would not wish to make the Viscount uncomfortable in any way…”

“It would not,” Anthony cuts in very quickly. “I was just pointing out it was not my expectation to do so,” his gaze softening as it slips from his brother to you. “However, if you wish it, Ms, I shall remove my clothing.” something in the way he says it causes a frisson down your spine.

You have only seen one naked man in your life. And that is your dead husband—a portly man of advanced years. Something about the look of the Viscount’s tailored clothing suggests his naked form would be very different. More akin to the rugged gardener you have occasionally seen topless at your country home and, yes, touched yourself while thinking of. You are not sure you could keep your wits about you to paint such a fine specimen of a man.

“Let us just remove our jackets for now, brother,” Benedict suggests. ”The lady may then decide if we shall proceed further,” his tone conciliatory as he removes his.

You smile at his gentlemanly offer. 

“Now,” he continues, rolling up his white shirt sleeves distractingly. “You may choose to pose your model as you see fit.” 

Anthony is doing the same with his shirt, and you find yourself staring at him as well, at the play of muscles in his forearms as he rolls the material. Behind him is an emerald green velvet chaise, and you ask him to sit upon it. He does so and then looks at you expectantly for further instruction.

“Perhaps place one forearm on your thigh,” you suggest, but the pose he adopts isn't quite what you had in mind.

“You can place him in the position you wish,” Benedict chuckles, seeing the knit in your brow, gesturing for you to go to Anthony.

Your heart skips a little as you approach the Viscount, his eyes almost trepidacious as you place your hands tentatively on his shoulders. They are so broad and warm through the thin white cotton of his shirt. You position his arms, noting the latent power in his biceps, fingertips lingering on the material, eager to trail your hands down onto the dark hair dusting his forearms. 

“Would you mind raising your chin, my lord?” you ask quietly, and when he tilts his head up, you almost gasp at the intensity of his gaze boring into yours.

“Like this?” he murmurs.

“Yes, please,” you whisper back, “the light catches your face perfectly.”

“Much as it does yours,” he returns softly and something warm spreads under your ribs as you drink in his handsome facial features, almost glowing in the sunlight—a want to run your fingertips over his cheeks, trace the lines of his strong jaw dusted with a trace of afternoon stubble.

“Are you happy with your placement?” Benedict’s voice rings out, cutting into your reverie.

“Yes, Mr Bridgerton,” you reply but do not move, seemingly rooted to the spot.

“Then please return to your easel,” he tutors, with a hint of sharpness you have not heard before. 

Part of you is tempted to spin around and ask if he is jealous, but instead, you shoot Anthony a tiny smile that he returns before withdrawing. 

You round behind your easel and pick up your charcoal, sketching an outline, as Benedict does the same. A few minutes pass pleasantly as you draw, glancing at Anthony around the edge of the easel to ensure accuracy. You could swear every time you do so; his lip twitches in amusement, almost as if he is trying to distract you.

“Benedict,” you call softly when you think your rough outline is done, “please could you check my sketch?”

It's a flimsy excuse you have used more than once now—a wish to have your teacher move closer. He doesn't disappoint. He takes a few strides and then stops close to your back, assessing your canvas.

“I would say that is an excellent start,” he assesses, his exhaled air wafting through tendrils of hair near your ear. “Except maybe here…” His arm curls close around your side, ghosting your dress, and taps the canvas where you have sketched Anthony’s left arm. “I think you flatter my brother with a shoulder that broad.”

“Perhaps…” you concede, and then your tongue runs away with itself. “It may indeed be easier to ascertain the correct proportions for the Viscount were he in less clothing.”

They both chuckle at your bold assertion, so obviously a flimsy excuse. But there is a vault behind your ribs as Anthony rises to that challenge—a glint in his eye as he stands up and plucks open his waistcoat, shucking it quickly from his shoulders, staring you down. 

You swear you can feel the heat radiating from Benedict behind you as Anthony unwinds his white cravat and then, with a smirk, tosses it towards you. It lands draped over your easel; you reach out unthinking, grabbing an end, caressing the fine silk absent-mindedly as you stare covetously now.

Anthony is indeed built like your gardener, possibly even more sculpted. A dark thatch over his chest tapers to a line of hair over his abdominals and trails temptingly into his trousers. You want to see where it leads to. You suspect something much better than you have ever encountered before. With a hint of swagger, he retakes his seat in the pose you had put him in, the stance making his bicep bulge out.

“I do not think I was very incorrect in my proportions, Mr Bridgerton,” you opine tacitly, turning your head a fraction so your temple is brushing Benedict’s jaw, knowing you are goading him.

“Then draw what you believe you see,” he returns, his voice a low whisper, his lips so close to the shell of your ear that your heart pounds in your chest.

Your eyes hold Anthony’s as you daringly glide your fingertips over the back of Benedict’s hand, lingering on the raised tendons before you push the charcoal between his knuckles.

“Perhaps you can guide my hand?”

“With pleasure,” he hums.

The charcoal glides over the canvas in guided unison for a few laden minutes as you draw under Benedict’s tutelage. Anthony’s chest rises and falls steadily as you glance at him every few seconds—a tension in the air that is portentous, crackling. Your traitorous mind wanders—a jumble of images of you laying with both of these men, bringing you untold pleasures with their mouths and hands.

“Are you even paying attention to the artwork?” Benedict's rich voice lilts in your ear as you realise your hand is almost limp under his.

“I… I must confess, my thoughts may be elsewhere, Mr Bridgerton.”

“Tell us. It could be something we would be most pleased to hear,” he posits duskily, his breath hot on your cheek, letting slip that he likely suspects.

“I am thinking… of other artful arrangements of human bodies,” you offer somewhat opaquely.

“Whose bodies?” Benedict presses, this time his lips grazing your earlobe, as you spy a vein throbbing in Anthony’s temple, looking like he wants to stalk over and claim you.

“The three of us,” you confess breathily.

There is a noise from both men that is a beeline straight into your core, and there is a mouth on your skin. You gasp, eyes closing as you sway backwards into Benedict, his lips travelling the column of your neck as your back collides with his solid chest. The gentle suction and warm wetness set your skin afire, tingles running down your arm. Your lashes flutter open, and your blood runs hot to behold Anthony’s face like thunder until you bite your lip and, feeling emboldened, you mouth to him…

‘Your turn’

Instantly, his mien morphs into one of desire, jumping to his feet as you slide a hand into Benedict's thick hair and grab a handful, making him groan into your skin. 

“You are entirely too clothed compared to your brother, Mr Bridgerton,” you coquette, untangling yourself from his arms and spinning to look back at him with a raised brow, backing away without looking, knowing you will soon collide with Anthony.

Sure enough, you inhale sharply as toned arms haul you into a firm embrace, the hair on his chest tickling the skin above the scooped back of your dress.

“The lady is not wrong, brother,” Anthony provokes, his tone smug now that you are in his arms instead.

Teeth nip lightly on your earlobe while you watch Benedict fight with his waistcoat, almost wrenching it from his torso. Anthony is more taciturn than Benedict, communicating with his fingertips instead, raking over your dress, silently telegraphing his desire through the gauzy layers. Benedict’s stare is heavy upon you as he unfurls his cravat, you melting into Anthony’s lips skimming down your throat. Benedict makes quick work of removing his shirt, throwing it aside, his smooth chest heaving slightly as he advances upon you. Then his lips descend and claim yours in a breathtaking kiss. 

If this is the Bridgerton boys competing for your affection, then you would do anything to keep provoking them. Sandwiched between their bare torsos, Benedict's tongue opening your lips, lathing yours, as Anthony’s mouth skates your shoulder. The taste and feel of them both has you suddenly impatient. To do things you never thought you would even moments ago. A forbidden fruit too tempting to resist. It makes you desirous, unbounded, a keening want to be reckless.

“Take off my dress, gentlemen,” you implore urgently as you and Benedict break apart, twisting to capture Anthony’s mouth now. 

His kiss is just as demanding, equally fervent, your heart racing as four hands trace the contours of your figure. You are not sure of who undoes the buttons down your back or who pushes the loosened fabric from your shoulders. Both unlace your stays, tugging almost impatiently until the garment relents and are certain both of them pull your gathered chemise loose, it falling from your shoulders to form a circle around your light summer shoes. Both make a noise as they realise you are now naked. It was supposed to be a little illicit thrill for yourself, foregoing stockings and underwear in Mr Bridgerton’s presence—little did you know how provocative that choice would be. 

As you toe off your shoes, the atmosphere seems as heated, the sun’s rays upon your back through the translucent window covering. There is a moment where you exchange laden looks with them, their eyes slipping down your naked body before Anthony leans in and retakes your lips.

“Touch me…” you implore, twisting briefly to address his brother before returning inexorably to Anthony’s hypnotic kiss.

Benedict's fingertips ladder up your ribs from the dip of your waist, his lips dragging hot over your bare shoulder blades. And then you gasp into Anthony’s searching mouth as those large hands seize both of your breasts, covering them entirely, your nipples snagging between his elegant knuckles.

“Here perhaps…” Benedict rumbles as you tear away from Anthony to meet his captivating gaze.

“Yessss,” you hiss hungrily, your breath catching as he plucks gently, tweaks that send a zinging bolt between your legs. You cling to the back of his sturdy neck and crash your lips into his. 

“Have you ever laid with two men before?” Anthony’s voice is like velvet in your ear as his warm hands grasp the flare of your hips, his teeth nipping at your neck.

“I have only laid with one man,” you admit as you pull back from Benedict's kiss. “And he looked nothing like either of you.” Your hands rake greedily down both of their honed outlines, a yen to see and touch more.

They puff with pride at your words as Benedict's fingers loop behind your left knee. He roughly pulls your legs up around his hip, surging into you so the rigid mass of his cock, straining in his trousers, presses your mound, making you gasp. Anthony pushes into you, too, his equally sizeable cock passing over the cleft of your bottom, so hot through the fine wool. 

“Did he worship you like you truly deserve?” Benedict queries, his cadence achingly seductive.

“I am not sure what that might entail…” your intentional evasive provocation makes him smile crookedly and lean in closer, his eyes glinting enticingly. 

“Did he feast on the bounty between your legs with his tongue until you screamed for mercy?” his words dripping from his lips like dangerous weapons, heat pooling rapidly right at that very spot.

“H-he did not…”you stutter over a slightly laboured breath.

“Oh, my poor lady,” Anthony tuts sympathetically. “You deserve to know true pleasure,” he adds, surging his hips again but also taking your hand and kissing your knuckles tenderly. 

“Lay down here,” Benedict smiles as he leads you back to the plush chaise. 

Both offer their hand to assist you in reclining, the velvet a plush tickle under your spine as you settle down, looking up at them towering over you, your hands itching to tug open their trousers and find what lies beneath, the fabric straining temptingly.

“What do you have in mind, brother?” Anthony asks, his eyes following Benedict as he turns away and appears to grab something from the bench at the side of the room, the sunlight dancing across the freckles across his back. When he spins back around, he is holding three clean paintbrushes.

“I think a sensual experience…” he replies, looking down to gauge your reaction.

“I thought our art lesson abandoned, Mr Bridgerton,” your gaze fixated upon the brushes of various sizes and bristle lengths.

“With my brother as the subject, I concede maybe so,” he remarks casually. “But I believe you to be a much more interesting prospect anyway….” his voice smoky as he looms over you, his eyes raking over you in a way that you can feel fizzling on your skin.

“Agreed”, Anthony chimes in, taking a proffered brush from his brother as they kneel on either side of the chaise, a silent exchange between them.

You want to ask what they will do, but the words die in your throat as Benedict's tongue darts out and wettens the end of a fine-tipped brush. Then, the damp bristles are upon your clavicle, tracing the arc of bone, leaving a thin, wet streak cooling rapidly, goosebumps erupting over your sternum, nipples pebbling. Without needing prompting, Anthony drags a dry, fanned brush over your ribs, tracing each contour. The sensation is different, ticklish, to the point your abdomen ripples, and you instinctively curl up a fraction, biting your lip to tamp down a giggle. Anthony smirks casually as a large hand wraps around your shoulder and pushes you back flat.

“No, no.” Your clit pulses at the warning tone Benedict employs, his hold secure but not painful, staring you down as Anthony repeats the same move upon the other side of your ribs. Your body rolls yet more, rebelling and pushing against his grip. “Stay still. Or he may desist.”

You bite your lip and exhale shakily as Anthony continues teasing brushstrokes over your stomach, each one a flick that makes your skin shimmer. Benedict releases his hold to paint his wet brush across your other collarbone, leaving a trail of his saliva along its ridge and then continuing down over your breastbone. Your breath catches as he trails under the curve of your left breast, just as Anthony’s brush sinks lower. Your instinct is to clamp your legs shut, a sudden wave of timidity, but both men grab your knees and pull your thighs wide apart. Air swirls around your slit as Anthony leans over and captures your lips in an enticing kiss.

“Do not be shy now….” is Benedict’s hot whisper in your ear, his teeth capturing your earlobe as Anthony’s tongue rolls with yours, swallowing your moans as his brush caresses the patch of hair at the apex of your thighs before he glides it between your legs, passing over your clit. 

Just that featherlight touch is enough to make you arc upwards off the chaise until again Benedict holds you down, brush stored expertly between his knuckles as warm fingertips press upon your diaphragm, and he hushes you. You have to bite the inside of your cheek as Anthony flicks a few strokes, his warm eyes blazing right above yours. The motions have you throbbing, desperate for more, and you can only gasp as he slips lower, pushing just a fraction of the brush into your soaked pussy. When you do not protest, he grins and pushes a fraction deeper as you bite your lip, wanting so much more for it to be his cock. You whimper as instead the paintbrush withdraws, and Anthony makes a show of bringing it to his mouth, sucking its dripping tip covetously.

“Delicious,” Anthony offers silkily, his face inches from yours, a thronging need low in your pelvis, aching for relief, something you never felt with your late husband. His lips are on yours, lust burning in your belly as you taste yourself in his mouth. 

Benedict chooses this moment to swirl his wetten brush tip around your areola, and that has you moaning into Anthony’s kiss, your fingers raking into his lush hair as your other hand shoots out to grab Benedict’s bicep, a need to touch them both at once.

“Please…” your voice cracking, greedy for them both.

“Please, what?” Benedict chuckles darkly, his lips brushing your hairline, again holding you down to Anthony’s sensual onslaught.

“More…”

It's all you can say, tilting to look into his hazy eyes, clouded with lust, enjoying watching you squirm and pant and blossom under their attentions.

“Greedy…” Benedict volleys light-heartedly before kissing you, both of them dropping the paintbrushes, clattering to the floor.

Anthony’s fingers slither back down your centre line, tracing over the sensitive skin beneath your belly button but not stopping until they rest tauntingly over your weeping slit. You gasp into Benedict’s mouth as Anthony pushes a finger into you, his approving groan into your shoulder as you leak down his knuckles has you clenching around his invading digit. He adds another and begins to pump slowly, rocking his fingers rhythmically as your tongue parries with Benedict’s. 

Benedict breaks the kiss to brush his lips down your throat, hot kisses over your collarbone, lower still until his mouth is on the swell of your breast. Anthony adds a third finger, wet, filthy sounds from between your legs as your pussy clings to him, feeling so filled. His thumb hooks under your clitoral hood and starts to flick your sensitive nub in time with his finger thrusts just as Benedict's tongue swirls around your nipple, making your back curve up from the chaise, pushing your breast into his open mouth.

“I could watch this for hours…” Anthony asserts with a wicked little quirk of his eyebrow.

You squirm under them, so achingly aroused you feel on the edge of reason. One of them would be more than you have ever experienced before; both at once is almost lethal.

“Me too…” mirth laces Benedict’s response as he trails the point of his nose over your nipple. 

They glance at each other, telegraphing ideas silently. Benedict swaps to your other breast as Anthony moves, the angle of his fingers changing inside you, twisting as he rearranges between your splayed legs, pushing your thighs wide open, draping them on either side of the chaise.

The muscular swipe of Anthony's tongue through your slit has you crying out his name, a spike of pleasure so rough it catches you unawares, this act entirely new to you, something so intimate about his whole face buried into the wet heat between your legs.

Benedict kisses his way back up your neck as Anthony’s strong arms wrap around your hips, the solid mass of biceps curled into you as he drives you relentlessly, his tongue a spear lashing your swollen clit. Benedict swings around from kneeling at the side of the chaise to leaning over the curved back, fingers spidering down your skin from your shoulders towards your breasts.

“Is this the artful arrangement of bodies you envisaged?” His words are whispered hotly into your ear, your eyes fluttering closed at the decadent, smokey cadence.

You mumble something incoherent, the rush washing through your system stealing your thoughts, just as Anthony’s fingers start to move inside you again as he feasts upon you, closing his mouth around your sensitive nub and sucking hard with his lips.

“What was that?” Benedict chuckles, a teasing lilt that has you nuzzling your cheek into his lips, his fingertips dragging agonisingly slowly lower, over the round of your breasts, your nipples, still damp with his saliva, pebbled painfully even in the warm room, tingling for his firm touch.

“Yessss…” your reply is a sibilant rasp; he must know this is even better than what you had imagined, but he seems to enjoy hearing your affirmation regardless. Such investment in your pleasure amplifies your need.

Your hand shoots down to tug Anthony’s luscious hair, pushing your pelvis up into his face as he groans his approval of your wanton actions, chasing pleasure covetously. His fingers are buried deep inside you, curling and dragging over a spot that has you climbing so fast. Then Benedict roughly pinches your nipples, throbbing in sync with your clit under Anthony’s tongue, and you are sent stratospheric dizzyingly fast, a touch of rough treatment just what you need to push you over the edge you have been skating.

Benedict swallows your screams as you ride Anthony’s face in a wave of pleasure, clenching hard around his fingers, trying to expel them as he fights to stay inside you. Benedict's mouth is hot, possessive over yours, not letting you up for air in a way that only heightens your pleasure, a tingle zipping over your scalp as you burst and fracture under them.

For a few seconds, everything is blotted out, just a rush of blood in your ears and white-hot pleasure coursing through you. Their touch turns softer as you float down, Anthony’s fingers withdrawing from you with a wet noise as you lay dazed, utterly overwhelmed by the sudden intensity.

“Now that was a work of art…” the filthy poet opines velvety, a handsome, lopsided grin claiming his face as you stare up at him hovering over you, your view upside down. 

You are still too stunned even to form words, a stuttering noise that sounds more like a whimper, the only thing escaping your trembling lips.

“I think we may have stolen her power of speech,” Anthony observes wryly, crawling up, dropping pecked kisses onto random spots of your dewy skin.

He settles his muscular body over yours, his chest hair tickling your nipples, his face glazed with your arousal, and his sizeable cock brands your thigh through the material of his trousers. He moves in to steal a kiss that tastes tart, rolling your flavour onto your tongue, seemingly wanting you to savour it as much as he does.

“I've never enjoyed losing a bet more…” he rumbles enigmatically as you break apart, your brow knitting in confusion.

“He would not have been your art model today if he had not lost a bet,” Benedict supplies, his fingers massaging your scalp soothingly, dropping a kiss onto your forehead.

You smile blissfully, head swinging to look at them both, knowing it will broadcast your response, as well as anything spoken could.

“You might be right about the power of speech, brother,” Benedict jests gently as they rearrange on either side of you.

Hands running lightly over your arms and torso. You just assumed, as with your previous husband, that they would immediately move on to pursuing their pleasure, so when they do not, you are slightly confused, especially as their unhurried, sensual caresses reignite that flame deep in your core. After a few minutes of gentle intimacy you are unable to censor your curiosity any longer.

“Will neither of you take me?!”

You don't mean it to sound quite as indignant as it does, even though a large part of you enjoys their shocked expressions, neither expecting such boldness. But then both of their faces morph into a dangerous, smouldering look so similar you can see their shared genetics. It has you biting your lip on instinct.

“We both will if you employ that sort of tone with us…” Benedict threatens sonorously, leaning in so his lips graze your cheek, giving away that is precisely what they want too, a shiver running down your spine at all the possibilities, your soaked clit throbbing anew.

“Is that a promise or a threat, Mr Bridgerton?” You volley back, raising an eyebrow, this new play far too beguiling to resist.

“Insolent little thing…” Anthony growls.

Hands clutch you tightly, blunt fingernails digging into your soft flesh, both of them demanding a kiss, pulling you in each direction to plunder your mouth in turn. A thrill zips all the way from your head to your toes with this sudden change of pace—the gauntlet of challenge you have thrown down, unleashing something primal in them both. 

Before you know it, Benedict is standing up, and the sound of buttons popping open makes you inhale sharply around Anthony’s tongue, wanting so much to crane to see him stripping off, but your entire field of vision filled with the powerful Viscount, his hand seizing your jaw.

“Look at me,” Anthony demands, perhaps a tinge of jealousy that you may even dare glance elsewhere when he is kissing the life out of you. Your eyes meet, all blown pupils and damp lips, and it's blazingly intense like he is peering into your very thoughts. “Oh good girl…” he drips praisingly, and something hot and molten unfurls behind your ribs. The smirk that engulfs his face tells you he knows precisely what those two little words have done to you, lust roaring back to life in your veins. “Such a live wire…” he breathes, and you can see it is nothing but admiration. “I will be back…” his promise trailing off as he withdraws, your eyes tracking his movements away from you, taking a seat in a nearby wingback chair, that handsome smirk still there. It makes you want to reach out your hands and beckon him back, a slight pout that he has left you so soon.

But you inhale sharply as warm, ropey thighs part yours, and your attention is pulled back to Benedict, prowling over you on all fours, naked now. The glimpse of his rigid cock bobbing between his legs catches your breath before he claims your mouth and lowers himself upon you. So much heat and lithe, supple musculature. He doesn't even ask; your knees spreading wide is the open invitation that he takes, angling his hips and slipping into your waiting weeping pussy with one decisive thrust that has you grasping his shoulders and calling out. The blistering stretch is unlike anything your previous husband could achieve, and you are grateful for just how aroused you are, the feeling just the right side of painful. He holds still buried to the root, his handsome face rightfully smug as you adjust to this novel feeling of utter fullness.

“Is that what you needed?” He leans down and whispers those words in your ear, your breasts crushed under his smooth, hard chest. The tone is doused with brazen provocation that you can't help but rise to, one of your hands sliding covetously down his back.

“I think you know the answer you seek. Impress me, Benedict...” you incite as you grab his shapely rear, his responding groan vibrating your entire being. He withdraws and surges back in, your toes curling into the light fuzz on the back of his calves, what you have fantasised about for many weeks now, better than anything you have idly thought during each art lesson with him.

Benedict nuzzles into your neck and starts to set a rhythm that has you panting with each stroke, your back chafing the rich velvet fabric of the chaise, engulfed in his heat and woodsy scent, caged around you, his hands hooked under your shoulders, pulling you down onto his invading cock, his lips murmuring encouraging words onto your throat. 

Movement out the corner of your eye distracts you, and you twist your head a fraction to see Anthony naked now, too. That dusting of dark hair on his chest tapers over his toned stomach, a thin trail leading all the way down to the patch around the base of his cock. He has taken himself in hand and is watching you intently, eyes trained on you as his brother fucks into you over and over, rolling with him.

‘I want you…’

You mouth to Anthony, a need to have him desperate and wanting. His nostrils flare, and he bears his teeth, his grip on his cock vice-like, speeding up, a glistening bead of moisture squeezing from his tip at your very words. 

“Call her a good girl,” Anthony snarls, an instruction as much as a suggestion.

“Why would I when she is looking at you while I fuck her?” Benedict scolds satirically, and that has you swinging your attention back to the man inside you, a little flare of guilt in your gut that you are unable to divide your attention between them, wanting them both. “There she is,” he teases gravelly as his lips ghost the shell of your ear. “There’s my good girl….” he adds for good measure, the lowest register you have ever heard from him, and you cannot help your body’s response.

You clench around him, and he groans long and low, his grip on you harsher, snapping his hips so forcefully his hip bones dig deep into your splayed thighs, your eyes rolling, his tip grazing your hilt.

“So fucking perfect…” he curses, his mouth opening yours, raiding you, setting a pace so punishing now you can only cling to him, moaning loudly, him nudging your swollen clit with each stroke. The chaise squeaks under the onslaught now, feet scraping hard on the polished wood floor.

Still, you cannot stop your stolen glances at Anthony as Benedict huffs into your neck. He looks so majestic, knees splayed, eyes trained on you. You want to climb into his lap and ride him until your teeth are rattling. You can feel yourself climbing higher, each jolt to your clit another step closer, a gentle flutter in your pussy you know Benedict can feel, him emitting little groans with each involuntary constriction.

“You are so close. Come for me again; I need to feel it,” Benedict pleads breathily, pulling up to meet your gaze, a sheen across his forehead as he ploughs into you, never faltering in his athletic pace. 

One of his hands sweeps down your flank, long fingers squirrel between your bodies, unerringly finding their target, a scream ripping from your lungs at the extra stimulation. A few flicks from him, and you are gone for a second time, hurtling towards the stars, bowing upwards, tensing hard, each muscle snapping taught as body and mind are flooded with ecstasy. 

Distantly, you hear Benedict growl, more animal than man, a litany of filthy praise you can barely decipher tumbling from his lips as he pulls out abruptly, you whimpering at the sudden loss, your pussy bereft, rippling around nothing now as his hot seed spills onto your belly.

He collapses onto you for a few beats; his weight is heavy and cloying, his lips meeting yours in an artless kiss. Then you feel him climb off of you slowly, a soft rag dragging over your skin as he cleans you of his seed and mingled juices. He kisses your cheek chastely, but his words are interrupted by Anthony calling out across the room. 

“Are you ready for more?”

Your attention immediately snaps across to the Viscount. Without thought, you are springing to your feet, gait uncertain, like a newborn fawn finding its legs as you take a few shaky steps towards him, an exquisite ache between your thighs from all that has transpired.

“Are you coming to me?” Anthony coos impressed, his hands shooting out to steady you, gripping your waist.

You nod enthusiastically, utterly drunk on the tide of pleasure coursing through you, which greatly entertains him. You climb into his waiting lap and draw him immediately into a filthy, wet kiss. Your tongues tangle as you shuffle forward into the wide, comfortable chair, his hips sliding forward to meet you, and without preamble, you rise fractionally and sink onto him, your puffy, swollen channel suctioning onto his thick veiny cock with a filthy sound. He groans beautifully as you sink, taking him into your pussy, the stretch of him just as mindblowing, perhaps even a shade thicker, like his physique. You stutter a curse, eyes to the ceiling, wrapping your arms tight around his neck, your nipples pressed into the fur of his chest, his balls pressed between your bottom cheeks as you sit speared upon him. 

“Are you going to ride me?” His question is rich like chocolate, buzzing against your chin where his mouth is now hooked open, his teeth grazing the bone there.

“Yes,” you slur, tilting your gaze down to look down at him, already knowing you would do it until your body gives out, so desperate again to feel that high only they can provide.

“Good girl.”

They know it's a weapon now and deploy it with gleeful abandon. Reflexively you contract around Anthony’s cock, both of you calling out, his muscular thighs tensing under your weight, his toes lifting from the floor. He utters a curse, too, a hand wrapping around the nape of your neck, then cupping the back of your head, tugging the hair at your scalp between his knuckles.

“Ride,” he commands, low and slow, a menacing tone that has you stuttering with restoked arousal. A burning need to please him, to do precisely what he tells you to. And so you push up until his head is just inside your pussy, then drop back down, shuffling your stance wider to get a better range of motion. He watches you with a hooded, scorching gaze; a devastating quirk of his eyebrow has you moving steadily. Pressing all of yourself into him, with each pass, his hard abdomen scuffs your distended clit, your pussy lips so puffy now with so much arousal and repeated blows.

He nudges your face aside so he can teeth your earlobe. “You feel exquisite. All swollen with lust,” he croons, his breath gusting hot, his choice of words making you flare hotter, driving onwards with renewed vigour, a slight burn in your thighs as you rise and fall upon him, feeling yourself dripping down onto him, needing to cling onto him to keep seated.

“Could we do this on the floor?” you murmur into his stubbled cheek, realising your range of motion is slightly restricted by the shape of the chair.

His response is immediate; without leaving your body, he effortlessly takes your weight, wraps an arm around you and somehow manoeuvres smoothly onto the floor, his spine now resting on the front of the chair cushion—so much vigour and athleticism from both of these men. 

“Turn around, sweet girl,” you startle and whip your head over your shoulder.

There sat on the chase, lower half now wrapped in a drape of crisp white fabric, looking like a Grecian statue made flesh, is Benedict—a sketchpad and charcoal in hand. 

“Turn around so that I may draw you in the throes of passion,” he clarifies, that dangerous crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You look back to Anthony, suspecting from the twitch of his lip he is more than happy about this development. Silently he spins you both around and lays prone on the polished floor underneath you, still rock hard and buried deep in your pussy. Placing your hands on his chest, you lean forward slightly, take a deep breath and then start to ride again, slowly, the slight discomfort of the hardwood under your kneecaps heightening your pleasure somehow. The range of motion possible now allows you to experiment, to test the delicious drag of his cock by tilting your pelvis in each direction, then in a circular motion, hitting a spot inside that has you hissing and your nails scraping through the thick thatch of hair there.

“Take what you need…” Anthony advocates through gritted teeth, reading your every signal. 

Your eyes ping up from his imploring expression to Benedict, his gaze holding yours daringly as you start to fuck his brother again. Wantonly, luxuriating in the rapt audience you have. A liquid cascade of heat deluges you, the scrape of charcoal on the page spurring you on—to be more daring, leaning back to grab Anthony’s knees as leverage for your movements, your breast pushed high into the air, more performative knowing this carnal moment is being committed to paper.

Benedict mouths words of encouragement as you glance down to see Anthony’s eyes now screwed shut, his biceps bulging in stark relief as his hands clamp your waist, and his hips rock upwards with each downstroke you take, chasing his peak with the same vigour you are, each press of his cock better than the last. Your muscles scream from all the effort, but you do not stop, a bead of sweat sliding down your spine as you ride roughly, with abandon. Anthony’s eyes are open again now, his hands cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples so hard you stutter. Greedily you mash his thick cock right against that same spot that has your mouth slack, head tilted up, and fingers curling into his flesh, shocked at how close you are yet again in such rapid succession.

“Say it,” you grit out, staring up to the ceiling, not looking at either, not sure even you know who you are even asking. 

“Good girl..” it's in perfect unison, and that is what pushes you into oblivion.

You grind to a halt, pussy contracting in waves around his cock as he writhes under you, him gasping loudly as you again float far away, that blissful cloud almost making you miss his urgent call, him eventually hauling you off of him, just in time for him to paint your belly with a thick arc of seed, his whole body jerking with the almost violence of release.

He collapses under you, quivering, utterly spent, and you do the same. Faceplant into his chest, rubbing your nose into the musky dampness of his chest hair as you huff breaths, bone-deep but sated exhaustion from the exertion.

Pliantly, you allow Anthony to slip out from under you and you feel him pick you up bridal style as you curl into him, fatigue lapping your edges. He places you onto the chaise, and then both men are flanking you, limbs tangling and gentle kisses as they entwine around you. It’s a few quiet, tender moments before curiosity again gets the better of you.

“May I see it?” you query quietly, abashed, pressing your nose into Benedict’s shoulder, not willing to meet his gaze.

His laugh is rich and resonant, reaching around to grab his pad and show you. There, in elegant charcoal lines, is a scandalous but beautiful rendition of you, naked, your peaked nipples standing proud, head thrown back. The detail is perfect, even down to the patch of downy hair at the apex of your thighs. There is no rendition of Anthony, but at one glance, you can tell it is a depiction of an erotic capture of a woman riding a man. The very picture of passion, just as he promised.

“It is stunning,” you gasp.

“It is yours,” he rushes out.

“I… I want it to be yours,” you confess ardently, your hands sliding to grasp Anthony’s arm draped over your belly. “Both of yours..” you confirm.

Warm lips kiss your cheek on either side. 

“We will treasure it.” Anthony asserts as Benedict nods sagely.

You stifle a yawn and nuzzle into their warmth as Benedict suggests you all retire to his bedroom upstairs. 

“Tis only 3pm...” your protest is nominal at best, and you allow him to pick you up, wrapping you in another sheet as Anthony does the same, trailing behind you as Benedict ascends the stairs.

“When is your next art lesson?” Anthony queries as the door to an opulent bedroom swings open.

“Tomorrow?” you riposte cheekily, and they both chuckle as you add: “If you will have me…”

“I do believe that can be arranged,” Benedict confirms fondly as he approaches a handsome four-poster bed.

“Artfully…” Anthony adds wryly as you share a laugh with them both, falling into their welcoming joint embrace.

masterlist • wips • taglist (follow this blog to be tagged)

Taglist pt1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @kisskissshutmydoor @hanji-emo-blog

[k-slla]

It'll always end the same

(just look at this fucking guy🫠...I can't get him out of my head...)

A/N: Well, hii, I'm back! Hopefully the muses came to stay for good now ;) It's been a while since I've written anything and this idea was something that just came to me today, and now it's fully written down and I'm happy with it..I hope you'll like it too!

All mistakes are mine!

Soldier Boy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, mention of drugs, hair pulling, rough sex, unprotected PinV, implied blowjob, dirty talk...I hope I didn't miss any, if I did, feel free to correct me:)

Word count: 1.5k | My Masterlist

ENJOY!

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't stay away from him. Even when you knew it would always end up the same way, you doing your walk of shame at 4am, all fucked, shaking and weary, he always managed to pull you back in.

Ever since you started to distance yourself from him, you quickly realized it would not be easy. He was like a drug. If you'd be asked to pick one specific to describe him?

Heroin.

Extremely addictive. Dangerous. Lethal.

“You just can't stay away from me, can you, sweetheart?” He panted roughly into your ear as he kept ramming his cock so deep into you, it made you moan so loudly, that all the sounds echoed in the room around you. Possibly the whole floor of his apartment building could hear you, but neither of you really cared about that little detail.

So here you were again - at his apartment, pushed against the wall as he took you from behind. You couldn't even force yourself to answer him, only sounds coming out of you were the desperate cries as he got you nearing yet another climax. You had lost count on how many times you had orgasmed already. But you loved it. Maybe a little too much. It had started to feel like getting fucked into oblivion by him was the only way you'd be able to cum. Even if you wouldn't admit it out loud to yourself(or to him), you knew it was the only way you wanted to cum.

Because you tried. Every time that you said it would be the last time with him, you had tried to forget him. But of course no one came close to him. No man was comparable to him. You knew it well, but still you gave your best to get him out of your system. But it all came crashing down each and every time. So you always ended up craving another hit of the most addictive drug you knew. Soldier Boy.

“How long was it this time? Two weeks? That's gotta be a new record for you, doll…” He cooed mockingly behind you, harshly pulling your head back so you'd be forced to look him into his eyes. “And yet you came crawling back to me. Pathetic.” He hissed as he looked at the total mess you already were.

He released your hair quickly and you immediately leaned your head forward against the wall for some support. Your legs were just so close to giving up. Your whole body was close to giving up.

“I-I.. please.. I..I need a break…can't.. can't take it..” you whined out when he suddenly yanked your hips back towards him after your body instinctively started to search a way out from him.

“You need a break? You can't take it, huh?” He repeated your pleas, with a hint of warning in his voice. You knew he wouldn't listen to you. He almost never did. “I can't give you a break, sweetheart. Do you know why?” He stopped moving inside you for a moment, words leaving his lips in hot gasps as he pulled your back against his chest. He gave you a chance to breathe and you knew it meant that he was expecting a serious response from you.

You breathed deeply in and out, shuddering moans leaving your wrecked body with each exhale while you rested against his warm body. You took a moment to gather a coherent thought to answer him. “Because…mmgnh…because I came to you?”

Soldier Boy pulled himself out of your oversensitive and trembling cunt and turned you around to face him.

“That is exactly right, doll…you came to me. And you always come here with one thing in your mind, don't you? I'm just giving you what you're searching for, aren't I?”

His eyes took in the completely disheveled state you were in right now. You were teary from the overwhelming pleasure he has given you for the past few hours already. Your hair was stuck on your sweaty forehead and your lips were red and swollen from biting back your moans and taking his bruising kisses. He ran his thumb lightly over your mouth as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

When he saw that you were in no condition to answer him further, he just continued talking, his voice low and almost threatening. “You always come to me. And you know, you goddamn know that you're the only one I lose control with. The sounds you make…the sight of you so…so ruined by me…they get me higher than any drug known to man…”

He stroked your cheek lightly for a second, looking into your eyes…almost apologetically. But then his eyes flashed darkly and he grabbed onto your jaw roughly, making you wince in pain.

“You know what I need to hear, when you can't take it anymore, doll. And you know that this is the only way to get me to stop. But you know better than to use that without cause, don't you?”

His eyes roamed over your face, now a knowing glint shining in them. A slow smirk appeared on his face before he continued. “But you don't really want me to stop…Is that why you haven't used it yet?” His other hand dug into your hip, squeezing the soft skin as he pulled you flush against him again.

He let go of your jaw and then you realized you held your breath the entire time he was talking to you. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air. You stood there against the wall, trembling, as Soldier Boy took a step back to get a good look at you.

“Are you just toying with me? Is this a game for you, sweetheart?” He then asked seriously.

A cold shiver ran through your core as you saw the look in his eyes. “No! No, I'm not…toying with you.”

Soldier Boy squinted his eyes at you. “Oh, so then were you lying, sweetheart?” Eyeing you down like a predator would do to his prey, he started to close the distance between you again. “Because you know I definitely won't tolerate that.”

“No! I wasn't…I was just—” You tried to justify yourself to him, but the words died on your lips as you slowly realized that there was no way for you to squirm out of the situation you got yourself into. “I just needed a little break..”

“Hmpf…” Soldier Boy hummed, seemingly lost in thought as he stared down your body. Looking at the little beads of sweat on your forehead, the way your lips trembled as you were heavily breathing. His eyes then traveled further down your neck, admiring all the hickeys and little bruises from his not-so-gentle touches. His hands moved onto your waist, squeezing a little before his right hand quickly found its way between your legs. His fingers brushed lightly over your sensitive clit, a mocking smile creeping onto his lips as soon as he saw you jerk at the gentle caress he gave you.

“Okay, doll…you've taken a lot tonight…” he said after a moment of silence. His fingers were still rubbing your clit, drawing out lewd moans from you. “I'll give that little pussy a moment to rest…but just so you know. I don't need a break, so we'll just have to find another useful purpose for you, won't we?” He teased you with a sickly sweet voice, slowly bringing his hand upwards, pushing his fingers past your plump lips, giving you a taste of yourself.

“Mmm…that would feel good…that filthy little mouth of yours…” He was speaking so quietly, it seemed like he was trying to convince himself to give your mouth a chance to pleasure him, even though he knew well enough about your blowjob skills, having experienced them firsthand multiple times before.

“On your knees, sweetheart. You know what to do.”

You let out a small whimper, feeling like you were not ready for it yet. “Please…just give me five more minutes…please..”

His fingers locked in your hair, and he chuckled, sound coming out all sinister all of sudden. “No, doll. You either stop everything or you get down on your knees.”

Seeing he'll get no reaction out of you this way, he yanked on your hair harder, gritting the words as he spoke. “Will you say the word? Do you want this to stop? Answer me.”

You knew your little tantrum had pissed him off already, so you shook your head softly. “N-no..”

He took a step even closer to you, grabbing your chin to turn your face up to his. “Then. Get. On. The. Goddamn. Floor. Doll. Now.”

He grabbed your shoulder and pushed down to your knees, pulling up your face. “Eyes on me, sweetheart…”

He stepped closer to you, his feet planted on either side of your knees, while he looked down at you with a smile, guiding his throbbing cock towards your lips. “Be a good girl now…open up that pretty little mouth wide for me…”

You knew you were in no position to talk back to him, so you did what he asked.

The night was still young and you knew it would take a good couple of more hours before you would get the desired hit to soothe your addiction that is called Soldier Boy. Then you'd be free to leave, pretending once again that this was the last time you came searching for him.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Feedback/reblogs are appreciated! 🫶

Taglist: @jackles010378 @nescavaneck @cevansbaby-dove @deanwinchestersgirl87 @winchesterwild78 @anundyingfidelity @suckitands33 @waynes-multiverse

[inkchwe]

miss americana | 𝖕𝖘𝖍

➸ second anthology piece in "basketball (inkchwe's version)" and story-inspired playlist also can be found there too! ୨୧ pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 9.8k ୨୧ genre: fluff, angst, smut ୨୧ tags: basketballplayer!heesung, cheerleader!reader, established relationship, exes to lovers au, high school au, heavy petting, marking, oral (f receiving) penetration (all characters are of age!) ୨୧ synopsis: Fed up with Sunghoon's attitude and petty games, you move on, hopefully to something better. Why did he have to realize how important you were to him once you were already gone? ➸ a/n: bless @mini-mews for being there every step of the way with this fic, it was amazing seeing all of the comments and reactions and i could not have asked for a better beta ♡

DECEMBER

Sunghoon could have made the winning shot if it weren’t for the praise that was placed on someone else for so long. Lee Heeseung was the best shooting guard his high school had ever seen; anyone with talent and passion for the sport could see that. At the same time, Sunghoon made a lot of calls as the small forward that were imperative to the success of the team. From scoring to handling the ball, Sunghoon could do it all and then some.

If only the captain, the old fart, saw that. And Heeseung, the sanctimonious prick, appreciated him more.

Sunghoon is so wrapped up in his bitter thoughts he can barely focus on your lips attached to his neck and your legs around his waist. You both were cramped in the driver’s side of his car, but you managed to make yourself fit on Sunghoon’s lap to straddle him. In the dark of night, only the two of you parked on the basketball court by the river, you decided to give him a reminder of what the most important thing in his life was outside of winning the championship. 

Sunghoon usually spent times like these celebrating with his other teammates, but something was sitting in the front of his mind like a fly he couldn’t swat. You can tell in the furrow of his brows and his scrunched-up mouth. He may not be able to focus on going out and drinking, but it was a benefit to you. Maybe he would finally spend some time with you like he used to.

“Heeseung acts like everyone should worship the ground he walks on. Yeah, he won the game tonight, so what? I could score as many baskets as him if I wanted. And I’ve played as many games as his ass and won. Even once when I had chicken pox.” Sunghoon continues on his rant, unbothered by your mouth and hands on him. You run both of your palms inside of his jersey and feel the skin of his abs underneath your fingers, but Sunghoon doesn’t budge.

“I think you did great, who cares?” You mumble into his neck, focused on making him feel pleasure rather than irritation. You move Sunghoon’s hands to cup your backside, the cheer shorts under your skirt riding up to expose your upper thighs.

“Whatever,” Sunghoon grumbles, eyes looking past you and towards the window.

“What do you mean ‘whatever’?” You pull away from him to look in his eyes. He’s a million miles away, not bothering to pay attention to your impending frustration. His only concerns are himself and his feelings. “Seriously, get over this attitude and talk to me if you’re not gonna at least act interested.”

Sunghoon lets out a frustrated groan and pushes you back into the passenger seat. You yelp in the process, barely landing on your ass. “What the fuck, Hoon?”

“Don’t you see I’m upset and maybe I don’t want to spend another night making out?”

“Another—“ You huff out a breath, shocked at his audacity. “When was the last time we actually spent quality time together?” Before Sunghoon can answer with a basic response, you interrupt him. “And by ‘quality time,” I don’t mean with the guys or Jongseong in attendance.”

“That’s not fair.” Sunghoon tries to hit you with his signature pout, but you don’t budge.

“What’s not fair is that I’m supposed to be your girlfriend but all you care about is huffing and puffing about basketball, complaining about not being the captain, or being a huge jackass.”

“If that’s all I do, then why the fuck are you still around?” Sunghoon bites back, venom dripping from every word.

You look at him with wide eyes, seeing him clearly for the first time in months. After the latter half of the year you’ve been together being a disappointment of epic proportions, the veil finally lifted. Sunghoon does have a point. What are you still doing with him?

“You know what? You’re right.” You exit Sunghoon’s Denali with a grunt and fix your makeup, not letting the tears that threaten to escape fall from your cheeks.

“What are you doing now?”

“You’re right. I’m not gonna waste my time anymore. I’m done.” You slam the passenger door closed and begin your walk from the basketball court to your house, determined not to look back. If he wanted to be that way, then you deserved better.

You hear the slow, incoming huff of Sunghoon’s car, and he rolls the window down to continue your conversation. His lips are in a thin line, his annoyance at an all-time high but now directed completely at you. He says, “So I guess I’ll call you when you’re not so hormonal?”

“Don’t bother. Just fuck off, Sunghoon.”

He nods his head with an angry smirk and rolls the window back up. In a sudden screech, his car races down the empty street, leaving you alone in the night to cry. You weep not just for the future you saw with him coming to a sudden end, but for the past Sunghoon who you believed would never treat you this way now.

You shut your locker with an angry hand, a resounding slam filling the hallway. The strangers around you flinch in response and whisper, some unsure why the head cheerleader is in such a mood today.

“Didn’t you hear? Her and Sunghoon are done,” one of them speaks in a hushed tone.

“Damn. And right after his win? Heartless,” another says with the click of their tongue.

“How about you guys mind your fucking business?” You spit the words in their direction with force before walking away towards your calculus class. 

As if anyone knows anything about your relationship or how it came to end. The vipers are always ready to strike when a new hint of gossip comes around, no matter who gets hurt in the process.

To add salt to the wound, Sunghoon saunters up to you and tries to wrap his arm around your shoulder. You shrug him off with a tired grunt.

Many times before you had fought and made up as if the day prior never happened, all smiles and no tears in sight. But you’re tired of the same game you always played with each other. You think to yourself about the way he spoke to you two days ago, and how you would tell any other friend they deserve better.

And you definitely deserve better than that.

“Are you still mad?” Sunghoon asks with a whine. Typically, his childlike voice would make you laugh. Right now, you just feel vomit in the back of your throat.

“I’m not mad. We’re over.” You speak with a defeated but definitive tone, the end of your sentence falling into a whisper.

What’s the point of fighting anymore? With an outside perspective you did not have previously, you realized how exhausting it was going up and down with someone you were supposed to love.

Sunghoon doesn’t keep up with you, somehow understanding from the resignation in your voice and simple response that, as far as you were concerned, you were done with him.

“Goddamnit,” you curse, trying to make the lighter flick to life. For all the times you tried coaxing a flame from the device, it would not budge. First you had to deal with the onslaught of rumors circulating about your sudden breakup, and now you could barely get a lighter to work. Why did Mondays always have to be so awful?

Exhausted, you throw the pack of cigarettes and lighter into the open air. Both objects fall somewhere onto the football field, but you barely notice. You’re too focused on the tears in your eyes and the sobs that leave your mouth to pay attention to anything else.

You know it’s pathetic to sit on the bleachers and cry by yourself about the breakdown of your relationship, but the cyclone of emotions didn’t ask for permission when it hit you. It just did, violently and with little care for your wellbeing. You’re just glad to have the quiet time now to deal with the storm by yourself.

Or so you thought.

Someone walks up to you with both your cigarettes and lighter in his hands. Bang Chan, head quarterback for the football team and senior, smiles at you when you do look up in his direction. He steps back an inch when he notices your puffy eyes and red face. “Sorry,” he says. “Just saw you…lost these…and didn’t know if you wanted them back or not.”

You shake your head. “Throw them out if you want.”

Chan releases a surprised sigh. “Didn’t expect a cheerleader to smoke tobacco.”

His insight makes a smile appear on your lips in spite of the tears. “I never have. I just thought since I kicked one bad habit, why not replace it with another one?”

Chan laughs. He sits down next to you, but stays mindful of your space. “Sunghoon, right?”

You nod, his name a pit in your stomach. “You know him?”

”Just his reputation. Basketball guys can be real assholes.”

”And what about football players?” You counter. “You’re all just perfect angels?”

”Well, we prefer to call ourselves ‘realists’.” You share a laugh with him, relieved to feel something other than apathy or misery. It’s been so long since you’ve been around a guy who didn’t make you doubtful of yourself. Why not enjoy it?

You give Chan your name, but he tells you he was well aware of your presence before. “I mean, you cheer at our games too, y’know, so you’re hard not to notice.”

You blush, your puffy face suddenly red from the comment. “Well, you’re hard not to notice too, Chan.”

Maybe the future for you and Sunghoon had not played out the way you intended, but your future with someone else could potentially be pretty great.

JANUARY

Sunghoon feels pretty out of place every year once the end of the basketball season comes around. Now that he’s single, he wonders what could fill his spare time in a meaningful way. Besides academics, he comes up empty with ideas. 

He wouldn’t have chosen to be broken up with, but what else could he have done? He wasn’t going to grovel, not when you were the one making a big deal out of one fight. Eventually, you would come to your senses and come back. You both loved each other too much not to resolve the situation, even if weeks had rolled by without any communication.

Sunghoon is walking with Jay to second period when he sees you chatting with Chan, all smiles and body too close to the senior’s for Sunghoon’s comfort. Jay notices how tense his friend becomes seeing both you and Chan together, shoulders rigid and jaw tight.

”Would it be so bad if you just apologized? Even if you think you didn’t do anything wrong—“

”I know I didn’t,” Sunghoon cuts in, pissed off at the situation he’s in. How did Chan have any right to try and pull the charm out now that you’re available? It makes the blood inside of Sunghoon’s veins boil to a scorching temperature.

”You love her, man. Stop trying to be nonchalant about your feelings.”

The bell for late students rings, and everyone still in the hallway scatters to make it to their classes. Sunghoon feels the muscles in his body twitch seeing you walk away with Chan, arm in arm like you’re the closest of friends.

Writing notes for your physics class is hard when your best friend Wonyoung talks the entire time, her voice projecting to a high shrill. You manage to write while listening to her impassioned speech, but you stop altogether when the subject comes to you and Chan.

”When is he going to ask you out already? Everyone sees the way he looks at you.” Wonyoung bats her eyelashes with a suggestive smirk, and you thwack her away with your notebook.

”We’re just friends. And I’m not trying to date anyone right now.”

”Come on. It’s been three weeks. Nobody would blame you for putting yourself back out there.”

The intercom blares to life, and you hear your name and the request to be seen in the front office. You take your belongings in case the request involves some sort of emergency, your thoughts racing as you head out the door.

When you make it to the front office, all you see is Sunghoon with his back against the secretary’s counter, grinning ear to ear. You’re both alone for the first time since you broke up, and the awkwardness you feel is suffocating.

”Did you do this?” You ask, eyes rolling at his nonchalant posture.

“Miss Kang owed me a favor.” His eyes are vulnerable suddenly, the cloud of indifference shredding a touch. ”Besides, I wanted to see you.”

 Those words would’ve made you melt a long time ago, the early days of your relationship marked with gestures like this and sweet nothings leaving his lips. Now, you feel so far from the girl you were when you broke up with him.

”Well I want to get my lab done, so if you’ll excuse me—“

”Wait, wait, please.” He rushes to stop you from leaving the tiny office, his arm firm against the glass door in front of you.

”Sunghoon, this is not—“

”Please, just hear me out.”

You cross your arms and straighten your posture into a firm stance, looking directly in his eyes while waiting for the usual speech to leave his mouth.

You know you’re the only one I want.

”You know you’re the only one I want.”

My intention is never to fight with you.

”My intention is never to fight with you.”

All I want is to work this out, please.

”All I want is to work this out, please.”

You can’t help the broken laugh that leaves your lips, or the well of tears that build up behind your lashes. It’s both heartbreaking and comical that he thinks after weeks of nothing to show for his sudden humility, his half-baked, used-up monologue is the best way to mend your problems.

”Is that it?” you ask, deadpan.

Sunghoon stutters, suddenly at a loss for words. “What do you mean?”

”Is that all you want to say? ‘Cause if it is, then—”

”Why are you being like this?” His pleading tone suddenly becomes one of irritation. He’s not used to you putting up a fight, and now that you are, he doesn’t know how to handle it, like a toddler who can’t find their toy.

That’s all you were to him at the end of the day. A shiny doll to play with and discard when the circumstances didn’t suit him.

“I’m being like this because this is nothing new. And in another couple of days, it’ll be the same problems and the same excuses. It’s gotten old.” You walk out of the door, but hold it open just a touch to give him the last piece of your mind.

”You know what the worst part is, Sunghoon?” You clear your throat, failing to conceal the pain in your voice. “You didn’t even say you want me back because you love me.”

”Of course I love you!”

”Why? Why do you love me?” You throw your hands up at him, voice in tatters from how loud you’re screaming.

His response is exactly what you expected: nothing. No words come to mind or are adequate enough to describe the depth of his feelings for you, or lack thereof.

”That’s what I thought,” you say before walking away. If those are the last words you ever say to him, you’re glad you got them off of your chest.

The Spring Formal was all the talk of Sunghoon’s friends and their girlfriends once the date of the dance was announced. It was two months away, yet the hallways and classes were already littered with hearts and pink banners. Dance proposals were rampant, some even going viral on the school’s social media accounts.

It made Sunghoon sick to his stomach.

Four days ago, he thought he could win you back, but it only made you run further away from him. Was he that predictable? And what did that beefhead Chan have now that Sunghoon suddenly didn’t?

Playing video games with the guys and Heeseung’s girlfriend in attendance, he hoped it would take his mind off of things. But seeing his off-and-on adversary and partner loved up in the corner of Jake’s room didn’t help.

Sunghoon looks at the two of them laughing in each other’s arms and remembers the feeling of your body in his, the first weeks of dating being some of the best of his life. The quick texts during class, the impromptu kisses in his car before saying goodnight, and the secret drives to the beach on the weekends. He remembers them all, even if his cold nature made you think he had forgotten them with a cruel ease.

The memories pain his heart, and the image of a happy couple still basking in their newfound love does nothing but twist the knife.

“Can you guys not be all over each other in front of us? It’s disgusting.” Sunghoon remarks with sarcasm as he shoots one of Jake’s CPUs down. His friend grunts and tries to take out a person on Sunghoon’s team to even the playing field. 

Heeseung’s girlfriend quirks an eyebrow, still focused on her boyfriend but ready to throw a comeback Sunghoon’s way. “Aw, someone’s jealous, isn’t he?”

Her saying the words out loud causes the entire room to go quiet. The only sounds come from the TV and automated game dialogue.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sunghoon responds, his voice at a new low.

“Hey man. Watch how you speak to my girlfriend,” Heeseung interrupts, ready to jump from the beanbag he’s sitting in to put his teammate in his place.

His girlfriend places a tender hand on his forearm. “I got this, Hee.” She turns her attention back to Sunghoon, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. “I meant exactly what I said. Your girlfriend was tired of you being a complete prick to everyone, including her.”

Heeseung says his girlfriend’s name in warning, knowing she’s gone a bit too far, no matter how true her words are.

She doesn’t stop though, and Sunghoon is too shocked to form a sentence. “And seeing anyone else happy makes you realize how bad you fucked up and why she was right to drop you.”

Jake makes a face at her too, silently pleading for an end to the fight before more things are said that can’t be taken back.

Sunghoon throws the controller at the TV stand, the device breaking once it hits the wood. Jake and Heeseung curse at him for his reaction, but Sunghoon storms out of the bedroom before he lets his anger go any further.

He sits on the stairs in front of his friend’s house and feels the prick of tears in his eyes. It’s rare for him to allow himself to be vulnerable. The only person in his life who saw him this way was you, and without you, he doesn’t know how to pull himself back from the precipice. Was what Heeseung’s girlfriend said true? Were you right to leave him? Did he not deserve any more chances to do right by you, given how many times he fucked it up before, no matter how much he loved you?

In spite of everything he’s done wrong, he still does. He loves your fire, the stubbornness that mirrors his own so perfectly. He loves your crude sense of humor, the way you can make a joke out of anything, even in the worst of times to make him laugh. And he loves your sweetness, your capability to think of others before yourself, something he’s never been good at and always admired about you even if he never said it. He never said a lot of things he should’ve.

The questions and regrets flood his brain and make him wish he had a time machine. He would go back to the last hour you were together before everything fell apart. To be happy to have you in his arms and grateful to still hold your respect, your effort, and your love.

He hears someone walk up to him, but he doesn’t bother to look. “I’ll apologize later, okay, Jake? I don’t need a lecture right now.”

The feminine grumble makes Sunghoon turn his head, not expecting to see Heeseung’s girlfriend behind him.

“I came to apologize to you.”

Sunghoon looks back to the street in front of him. He decides to avoid prolonging the argument and nods his head. “It’s fine. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“Doesn’t mean it was okay.” She settles down on the stairs next to him. Sunghoon wiggles further towards the railing to make room for her. “Everyone deserves a chance to make things right. Even if they’ve been wrong a lot of the time.”

He discreetly wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “Even someone like me?”

She chuckles. “Especially someone like you.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Sunghoon doesn’t need to say the multitude of reasons why she deserves an apology. But it makes the aggression between the both of them, as well as a fragment of the guilt in Sunghoon’s heart, dissipate. All that’s left is relief.

She grins, the same feelings evident in her expression. “Apology accepted.”

Sunghoon lets a small smile appear on his lips. He has to practice apologizing more often; the feeling of making amends is pretty satisfying.

FEBRUARY

“Wonyoung, I don’t know where it is!” You say into the receiver of your phone, one hand holding the device to your face as the other rifles through the belongings in your locker. “And I doubt your bracelet is in here.”

“It has to be! I can’t think of any other place it could’ve gone,” she whines, sniffling. It isn’t her fault she’s home sick today, but she would get through her cold just fine without her lucky bracelet. As far as she’s concerned, however, it’s a matter of life and death.

“I’m sure we’ll find it so you can get over this cold,” you coddle her, still searching past the books and bags of snacks.

“I don’t care about that!” Her stuffy, squeaky voice makes you move the phone away from your ear. “I need it for the charity auction. How else are we going to get all of the items sold if I don’t have it?”

You roll your eyes, grateful she can’t see. “Just wow the PTA and student body with your impeccable charm.”

“Yeah yeah, have you found it yet?”

As you continue your search, an array of your belongings tumble out of your locker. You curse and bend down to pick the contents up. Most of them are some old notes for your current classes, but one makes you stop cold. 

Wonyoung’s words fade into the background as you hold up the photo strip of you and Sunghoon. The snapshots captured a perfect moment in time before the last six months of your relationship made everything take a turn for the worst.

“You can’t flip off the camera, Hoon!” You giggle as the timer starts for the next picture.

“It’s our pictures, so I have every right to use my middle finger whenever I want.” He nestles his head further into your neck, kissing the spot below your ear. You may be cramped sitting on Sunghoon’s lap in the photo booth of the arcade, but there’s no other place you’d rather be than with him.

As you laugh at his subsequent joke, the shutter goes off again.

“Your laugh is one of my favorite sounds, you know.” Sunghoon moves a stray hair away from your face, smiling ear to ear.

“That’s funny,” you say with a smirk. “That smile is my favorite thing ever.”

“Fuck off.” Sunghoon suddenly becomes shy, his cheeks turning pink.

“I swear, cross my heart.” You raise your hand in salute, and Sunghoon intertwines your fingers with his own.

As you seal your promise with a tender kiss to his lips, you hear the final click of the camera, content with whatever comes next.

You muffle your mouth with your hands, stifling the sob that started to leave your lips.

“Babe, you alright?” Wonyoung asks, another sniffle ending her question.

“Yeah I-I’m okay.” You shake off your sadness and stuff the photo strip in your locker again, half-determined to throw it in the trash nearby. “I gotta go, lunch is gonna be over in like fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. Next place would probably be your car, so just let me know later if you find it. Love you,” Wonyoung says at the end of the call.

Putting your phone in your back pocket and walking back towards the courtyard, you hear the rustle of hands clapping and feet stomping. Everyone at their picnic tables, like you, look towards the sounds.

The football team, all huddled up, begin chanting once you make it closer to them.

“Hey girl, you need a date. Why not make it #8?” They say the words in a morale-boosting rhythm, repeating them with vigor until other tables around them start chanting too. When the huddle opens at the center, Chan appears with a bouquet of flowers and a huge grin.

The team stops once he’s in front of you, Chan shy but determined. Once he gives you the bouquet, he asks, “Wanna be my date to the formal?”

You hide your face in your hands, a wide grin on your face in spite of your sudden bashfulness. Public proposals were never your thing, but with how much effort the guy put into the surprise, how could you say no?

“I’d love to,” you answer, giving him a hug as the crowd around you hollers in support. You’re grateful to have had Chan these past months while dealing with your heartbreak, it seemed to be a natural progression of your relationship. And while nothing’s set in stone, you’re happy something’s on the horizon for you.

But if you’re so happy, why is Sunghoon the first thing that pops in your head after you agree to Chan’s offer?

Thankfully, Wonyoung’s bracelet was in fact in your car behind the passenger seat. How she managed to get it back there was anyone’s guess, but hopefully that meant she would not be so freaked out about the charity auction next week.

In honor of Valentine’s Day, the high school allowed the cheerleading team to host a charity auction every year for a local nonprofit. This year’s was meant to be for the city’s homeless shelter. You worked there last summer to accumulate volunteer hours, and the people you met there had been on your mind every day since. Your goal was to make at least two thousand, but you wish you could do and earn more on your own accord for them. It was important to give back to others when you had so much and took it for granted. Some knew that better than others.

While printing pamphlets and auction tickets, your doorbell rang. You didn’t expect Wonyoung to be up to seeing anyone given her unwell state earlier on the phone, but it was her lucky bracelet. The faster she had it back in her possession the better.

Pulling the door open, the last person you expect to be waiting at your door is Sunghoon. His expression is an amalgamation of emotions, the biggest ones being disbelief and sorrow.

Any time before, back when he was your entire world, you would have pulled him into your arms and kissed away his pain. Even if you hate to admit it to yourself, a part of you still wishes you could.

But while you can be empathetic, you still have to be tough in his presence. Any sign of fragility, and he’ll see the opportunity to creep back in. “Why are you here, Sunghoon?”

“You’re dating him now?”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “What?”

“Chan. You’re together?” You see the tremble of his bottom lip and the lock of his jaw, his composure clearly hanging by a thread. It’s been a long time since you saw Sunghoon so unguarded, you’re unsure if it’s because he’s truly vulnerable or he’s on his last play to win you back.

No matter the reason, you answer with an exasperated sigh. “He just asked me to the formal, okay? He’s my friend.”

“Friends don’t ask friends to go to the dance with flowers.”

You bite your bottom lip, unsure what to say to that. “It doesn’t concern you anymore.”

Sunghoon releases a bitter chuckle, the sound of the laughter dying on his tongue midway. “It does concern me if you’re with someone else.”

“I just told you–”

“I get that.” He runs a hand through his hair, his voice frail at the edges. “But I know what it's like to want you, and I see it when Chan looks at you. And who can blame him right?”

Taking advantage of your stunned silence, Sunghoon keeps going. “When you asked me before why I love you, I didn’t realize how much I took advantage of you. I didn’t appreciate you the way I should’ve, and now I–I miss so many things. I miss the smell of your perfume in my car and the look you’d give me when you were calling me out on my bullshit, which was eighty-five percent of the time. I miss knowing you had my back even if I was in the wrong because you saw the best parts of me on days I didn’t see them at all.

“I miss you, and I love you, and I don’t know how to stop,” Sunghoon whispers. When he tries to step closer to you, you place a hand on his chest, safeguarding some sort of distance and composure between you. He presses his hand over yours, thumb rubbing across the skin on the back of your hand, making you suck in a breath.

It was every word and more that you yearned to hear from him since you parted ways. While the naysayers continued their dialogue about the demise of your relationship, nobody bothered to think about whether or not you wanted to let go in the first place. You had to, or it would’ve been the same patterns occurring over and over.

Maybe this moment, this speech, and this Sunghoon, can be a break in the chain. Maybe he’s truly adamant on turning over a new leaf for the better, for the chance to try again and do it right this time. Would it be so wrong to take the chance and give him the benefit of the doubt one more time?

But who truly knew he would change his ways except for Sunghoon himself? Could you run the risk of the cycle repeating itself again for the future you wanted? How were you meant to believe him this time with history on your side?

You retract your hand from his chest, your heart cracking in the parts he forced you to mend in the first place. “I can’t do this.”

He swallows forcefully and takes a step back, respecting your wishes. “I understand.” He walks down your driveway and to his car, leaving you with the image of his somber, close-lipped smile.

Sunghoon watches you walk back into your house, his heart in tatters. He looks at the bundle of roses sitting in the passenger seat and promises to himself to fight just a little longer. Giving up means losing you forever, and he’ll die before accepting that loss.

A big banner for the homeless shelter hangs on one of the gymnasium walls. The cheerleaders continue placing decor around the space for tomorrow’s auction, some hand-drawn by the girls and others donated from the PTA in previous years. You look around with your clipboard, items checked off throughout the day to signal your progress. With less than twenty-four hours to go before the auction, it was imperative to create the perfect atmosphere to sell as many items as possible.

Wonyoung skips over to you, her pigtails swinging in the air and a cluster of colorful streamers dangling from her hands. “Where do you want these, babe?”

“Lining the front of the bleachers. That way once the tables are set up we don’t have to work around them.” You check off another bullet, 

“You got it boss!” She winks at you, her expression teasing. Before she can walk away though, Principal Han and Coach Chae walk into the gym. Coach Chae has a bouquet while Principal Han holds a thin piece of paper.

The two gentlemen walk up to you and Wonyoung, beaming. “Great turn of events ladies,” Principal Han says. “The auction has been canceled.”

“What,” Wonyoung yells. The two men flinch at her reaction, but Coach Chae laughs off his reaction.

“No need to worry, Miss Jang,” Coach Chae responds. “There will still be a gala. Just not an auction. Think of it as a celebratory gala, if you will.”

“What do you mean?” You ask. You press your clipboard tighter to your chest, anxiety spiking. You put your heart into this event for the success of the fundraiser. Why was it suddenly crashing down?

“Someone already donated more than enough to reach your goal. Five thousand, to be exact.”

A silent gasp leaves your lips. The clipboard almost slips from your fingers, but Wonyoung manages to catch it before it clatters onto the gym floor.

”Holy sh—sorry. Holy moly!” Wonyoung exclaims, a smile matching the ones on the older gentlemen’s faces.

“Congratulations, girls. Now you can kick your feet up and enjoy the festivities tomorrow all thanks to your mystery donor,” Principal Han says.

”Mystery donor?” The mix of emotions in your stomach morphs to confused curiosity. “They didn’t leave their name on the check?”

”No. Just the card that came with the flowers,” Coach Chae answers. He hands the bouquet of roses and the comment card to you, the floral smell suddenly wafting in your nose.

You could recognize the script anywhere, the slants and slopes of the handwriting belonging to only one person. The contents of the card make your heart swell and sink deeper, causing you to question everything once more.

For reminding me to cherish all the things I took for granted.

MARCH

On the night of the Spring Formal, a week had passed since that day in the gymnasium which upended a majority of your feelings. Your thoughts have run rampant in your mind since, regrets and doubts sitting at the forefront of your brain.

Your mother was fixing the last pieces of your hair into the intricate bun she created. Looking in the mirror, the tendrils of your bangs falling out from the hairstyle frame your face. Grace exudes from your makeup and the dress you’ve chosen, the strapless champagne gown the centerpiece of your entire look.

”You’re a vision, honey,” She says, her eyes bright in the hallway mirror behind you.

You may look beautiful, but your thoughts make you feel small, unsure of everything you thought you knew or wanted before.

You had not seen Sunghoon since that night on your front porch almost two weeks ago, your ex choosing to respect your wishes and stay away just as you requested. Now, in spite of all the ways he vexed you to no end, you missed him just like he said he missed you. Maybe you suppressed yourself from grieving the end of your relationship, jumping headfirst into a new friendship with Chan and the other priorities in your life. Or maybe it was because he still had your entire heart, even if you wished he didn’t.

”Chan should be here any minute,” your mother says, interrupting your thoughts.

You respond with a nod and small smile, fidgeting with the top of your dress to conceal some of your cleavage.

Your mother frowns. ”Honey, what’s wrong?” She puts her hands on your shoulders, her presence the right amount of concerned and warm.

”Do you think people can change?”

She gives you a knowing smile, the topic of conversation not being said out loud but obvious to the both of you. “When someone has the desire to, they can. Especially when they have a good reason to.”

The doorbell rings, and she kisses you on the cheek. “I’ll let you get that. I’m gonna run and grab the camera.”

You answer the door, half-expecting to see Chan with flowers and his signature grin. What you find, however, makes your heart constrict with surprise and longing that you didn’t expect to feel so strongly.

Sunghoon in a three-piece suit, hair slicked back, and a corsage looks like the picture-perfect man. When you envisioned this night before, the image of him in front of you always came to mind. And now, you could not be closer to and further from those expectations.

“I wanted to give you this before…I mean, I already bought it, and you deserve to have it.” He twiddles the corsage between his hands. His eyes ask for explicit permission before he places it on your wrist.

Without a second thought, you nod.

Sunghoon steps closer, relieved to have received the green light. The tension between you is palpable in the air, flickering hot and reflecting the same feelings you harbored weeks ago when you were in the same position then. He carefully puts the strap around your wrist, tightening it until it’s snug. 

The golden-trimmed roses match your dress flawlessly, so much so you wonder how he managed to remember the color of the dress you dreamed of for this night.

Like he can read your mind, he says, “You’ve been talking about this dance since the start of the school year.” He laughs, the sound hollow.

“Thank you,” you say, the two words expanding far beyond the roses on your wrist.

Thank you for the flowers. Thank you for going above and beyond with that check. Thank you for showing you’re trying.

The smile he gives you touches his eyes, the edges of his expression almost golden in the light of the sunset. “It’s the least I could do.”

Without thinking, he’s so close you can feel the rising pace of his and your breath mixing together. It would be so easy to close the distance, touch his lips with yours, and fall back into his embrace with no regard for the next minute.

Before you can contemplate it further, you see Chan out of the corner of your eye walking up your driveway. His mouth is in a firm line and his posture reflects his discomfort.

Sunghoon steps away from you. He acknowledges Chan with a nod, not terse or disrespectful, but clearly disappointed. He kisses the back of your palm quickly and lets it go. “Have fun tonight, okay?”

Before he walks away for good, leaving you and Chan alone, he finishes with, “By the way, you look breathtaking.”

As Chan gets closer and Sunghoon heads down the road to his car, you think maybe your ex is taking all of your breath with him.

Sunghoon downs the drink in the plastic cup. The tinge of alcohol Jay put in his drink can’t seem to take away the burn of watching you and Chan dance together. The DJ for the dance is playing  an uptempo number. Thankfully you’re not holding each other close, but it’s still a punch to the stomach seeing you smiling with a guy that isn’t him. In a gym filled with so many of his peers, he’s never felt so alone.

He drove to the dance by himself, Jake and Jay too entangled in their own love lives to soften the blow of Sunghoon’s continued misery. Heeseung and his girlfriend remain loved up in their own private corner of the dance floor. Sunghoon isn’t jealous or petty, though, although he’s well-accustomed to both emotions at this point. All he feels is some semblance of gratitude for the people enjoying the festivities of the night with a person they care about.

Heeseung’s girlfriend steps away from her partner with a kiss on his lips, somehow sensing Sunghoon’s despair. She walks over to him, a sad smile on her face as she approaches the lone guy at his idle table. “No luck, huh?”

Sunghoon nods and tips his drink at her. “You could say that.”

Heeseung comes up in record time, Sunghoon’s teammate unable to stay away from his lover for too long. He clears his throat and looks toward the younger guy with quiet condolences. “Listen, Hoon. Just talk to her and be honest. Stop dancing around your feelings.”

Sunghoon scoffs into his cup, the sound echoing in the plastic. “As if I could steal her away from beefcake over there. Like your missus said, she’s better off.”

“You know I apologized for that!” Heeseung’s girlfriend mirrors Sunghoon’s reaction, puffing out a breath of air and rolling her eyes. “And if that’s the case, why has she been looking over here at least every five minutes?”

Sunghoon glances past the rim of his cup and catches you staring just as Heeseung’s girlfriend makes her point.

Your eyes are filled with a plethora of unspoken feelings, ones Sunghoon may have the words for but cannot manage to speak. Why did words hold so much more power when it was too late to say them? Did he still have time at all, or was the opportunity to be transparent long gone? It’s too much to process; all he can do is look away from you, the guilt hitting him square in his chest.

Heeseung and his girlfriend share a conspiratory look, plotting something. Sunghoon takes a gulp of air, unsure if he wants to know exactly what they’re planning.

“Be on the rooftop in ten minutes. And make sure you know what you’re gonna say, idiot,” Heeseung’s girlfriend commands, her smirk flashing wickedly under the gymnasium lights.

“Hey!” Heeseung and his girlfriend run up to your spot by the punch bowl. You were absentmindedly staring at the fruit concoction in the tub while Chan had raced off to the bathroom, promising to be back in five.

“What’s up?” You ask, giving his girlfriend a polite and acknowledging smile.

“Something happened on the rooftop with one of the girls on the squad. I think she got food poisoning or something,”

“Yeah,” Heeseung’s girlfriend comments. “Wonyoung told us to get you ‘cause she needs some help bringing the poor girl back downstairs.”

You roll your eyes and set your cup on the plastic table in front of you. If it’s Leeseo again, you may just have to kill her.

The couple follows close behind as you make it to the stairwell door leading up to the rooftop. You wonder why the two didn’t help Wonyoung in the first place, but maybe the girl in question requested you personally and didn’t want to be embarrassed by being assisted by strangers.

Opening the rooftop entrance, you see Sunghoon standing near the edge, kicking gravel off the side of the building. Your heart seizes up, glad but caught off-guard to be seeing him right now.

In an instant, the door closes behind you, locking from the outside. You bang on it, unsure what’s happening. “What the fuck, guys?”

“You’re not coming out until we hear some talking!”

The sudden quiet is deafening, the only reprieve being the breeze passing through the trees surrounding the school. You run your hands across your arms, feeling the chill now that you’re outside but also unsure of what to do in this situation.

Sunghoon immediately sheds his jacket and walks over to you. He waits with the article in his hands before you nod meekly. He wraps it around your shoulders protectively, making sure your arms go through the sleeves. “Better?”

“Much, thank you,” you whisper.

Sunghoon looks deeply into your eyes, knocking any subsequent words from your conscious mind. You bite your lip instinctively, tense from his lack of distance between your bodies. Why did he still have the capability to steal your train of thought without trying?

He blows out a breath, the sound of his voice flimsy in the spring air. “When I first joined the basketball team, I didn’t know if and how I would measure up,” Sunghoon begins. “I was fifteen and terrified of playing next to someone as good as Heeseung and always being compared to him.

“And I took all those worries about being not good enough and took it out on everyone. I let it ruin the most perfect thing in my life because I thought acting like I didn’t care would stop me from feeling insecure. What an idiot, right?”

Sunghoon brushes a free bang from your face. His eyes are glassy, the vulnerability he’s showing you at an all-time high. “I should’ve realized the girl I love didn’t care if I was the best or the worst basketball player ever, as long as I was hers and didn’t forget it. I just didn’t know it then. And now that I’ve realized what a fool I’ve been, all I want now is to spend the rest of my time making it up to her.”

The confession knocks any remaining resolve out of you, unable to bear the pain in his face or the uncertainty that hangs in the air. You slam your lips into his, the kiss both bruising and healing in the same motion. It rejuvenates all the parts of you that had been withered away since the night you broke up and couldn’t be revived without him.

Sunghoon feels the effects of the kiss as well, his gasps and whimpers exemplifying his surprise and relief to have you back in his arms. Holding you, kissing you, being with you, you can tell he’s worried the moment’s a figment of his imagination. If he doesn’t cherish it, you’ll float away. And he can’t survive that for a second time.

You part for air, but your lips still ghost over each other’s, unable to be parted now that he’s within your reach again.

With your voice laced with the unshed tears in your eyes, you ask, “What took you so damn long, you idiot?”

Sunghoon can only respond with a joyful laugh and another kiss to your lips, making up for his unsaid apologies and shit timing with his mouth.

Now that your body is against his, your hearts beating rapidly but once-again in tune with each other, he’s certain now he’ll never be stupid enough to forget your worth and let you go again. Because the pleasure he used to call home is back in his life, and he couldn’t feel more at ease.

Sunghoon’s laughing when he unlocks the front door of his house, his face in a permanent grin since you kissed a few hours prior. You spent the time before ending up here driving around town, too enraptured with each other to focus on your friends or the rest of the dance’s festivities. You didn’t leave without Heeseung giving Sunghoon a slap to the back and Wonyoung crying at your reconciliation.

The house is quiet, a result of Sunghoon’s parents being abroad for the past few days. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look, by the way?” Sunghoon mentions again when he closes the door behind you. He immediately pulls you in by the waist, showering the skin of your neck in kisses.

You giggle and weave your hands into his hair, a gasp leaving you when he takes your earlobe between his teeth. “Probably for the hundredth time by now.”

“Well you do.” He presses another kiss to the spot below your ear, making you shiver. “And I’m not gonna stop saying it.”

You smirk and move your hands to both sides of his face, forcing you to look at him. “I didn’t expect the night to go like this.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.” His voice is teasing, but his eyes are suddenly lined with anxiety. His body tenses in your embrace, the worry that you’re having second thoughts weighing on his happiness.

You ease his doubts with a deep kiss, holding him close and hoping that assures him you’re not going anywhere. “A great thing.”

The smile you love so much appears once he’s at peace, and peppers your entire face with kisses. You laugh out loud, but he can tell you love the adoration he’s providing you.

You could definitely get used to this new Sunghoon, the night already filled with so much magic.

“I’ll be back.” He grins wide, canines on full display. Another kiss punctuates the sentence. “Don’t go anywhere.” Another.

You laugh out loud and nod your head. He dramatically holds onto your hand until he’s forced to let go. He runs down the hallway and into his bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaving you in the sitting room of his house.

Twenty minutes later, you’re sitting on the loveseat in the sitting room when Sunghoon comes back out.

“My lady, follow me.” He bows and holds out his hand for you to take, and you smile ear to ear when you lace your fingers with his. You’re unsure what’s waiting for you on the other side of his bedroom door, but you know it must be another surprise your boyfriend has gone above and beyond to amaze you with.

Surely enough, it makes you gasp out loud and press your free hand to your chest.

Sunghoon’s bedroom is showered in a radiant glow from dozens of candles, all different sizes but the same light creating a sweet, calming ambience. Fairy lights hang on the walls, aiding in the atmosphere he’s created. Music plays at a low sound from the speakers near the television, Sunghoon’s phone hooked up to the system. To top it all off, there’s another bouquet of white roses sitting on his side table, some petals lining the edges of the floor around his bed.

When you thought about this night in your dreams, it always ended here, being so in love. He’s made those dreams come true, right down to the letter, and you could not be more in love with him than in this moment.

Sunghoon comes closer. He presses his chest to your back, encasing your body with his arms and kissing your neck once again. You try to stifle the sob that comes out, but he hears it and retracts. “Shit, do you not like it? I can blow the candles out and–”

You turn in his embrace, shaking your head furiously. “No, I love it.” You wipe your tears, laughing at the reaction he’s pulled out of you. “I’m just–it doesn’t feel like it’s real.”

“It is.” He takes the side of your face in his hand, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “And I’ll remind you every day if you need me to.”

“I love you so much,” you respond, kissing the inside of his palm. You pull him closer, reconnecting your lips with his. You feel whole in a way you haven’t in weeks, knowing now for certain this happiness coupled with Sunghoon’s love is the perfect combination to sustain you.

“I love you too,” he says in between kisses, his mouth turning sloppy. You feel his growing hardness against you. It had been months since the last time you were intimate. You think as Sunghoon pulls you in closer than before, groaning into your mouth, that tonight’s the perfect time to reconnect in more ways than just emotionally.

“I missed you so much,” you moan, tugging his jacket from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. You run your arms across his chest, still covered by the cotton button up he’s wearing, but you quickly make do with the buttons on his shirt to feel the skin underneath. 

He shivers under your touch, but he manages to find the zipper of your dress and lower it down until the dress easily slips from your body. You step out of it, careful not to tread over the fabric. Your focus remains on  undressing Sunghoon until he’s as naked as you are, wearing only your underwear and shoes. He’s shirtless thanks to you undoing his buttons, but you want all of him exposed.

You try to pull down the zipper of his pants, but he stops you, his eyes lust-filled but patient. “This night is about you, baby. Not me.”

“Please, let me touch you.” You whine, holding onto the belt-loops on his pants.

“Not yet.” He moves you both back until you’re at the edge of the bed. He motions for you to sit down. Once you do, he gets onto his knees in front of you, the man you love on a mission. “Let me make you feel good first.”

He takes the heels off of your feet and sets them down beside your dress. When he does, he begins his slow torture of kissing up your ankles to the insides of your thighs. You lay your body back on his bed, whimpering and body on the verge of shaking when he finally pulls the underwear from your legs.

“Fuck, Hoon,” you say out loud when he presses a kiss to your clit, taking the nub between his lips and sucking tenderly while rubbing his hands on the curves of your hips. He takes one hand to reach out and grab one of your breasts, expertly taking your nipple between his thumb and index finger as his tongue licks along the insides of your center. “Please don’t stop,” you whisper.

“Wasn’t planning on it, my love.” His tongue moves at a faster pace, matching the writhing of your hips crashing into his face to gain every ounce of pleasure he’s giving you.

Before, you wouldn’t have imagined being back in this bedroom with him, and now there’s no other place you wanted to exist.

“Hoon, please. I want you,” you say, one hand clutching his comforter and the other entangled in his hair.

“You have me, always.” His tongue slips inside of your pussy, the feeling of the muscle against your walls causing you to cry out in pleasure.

“I’m not moving until you come, baby. I know you’re close.” The pleasure has been building since the moment he had his mouth wrapped around your neck when you stepped into his house. And now, with his mouth buried inside of you and sweet words accompanying such dirty actions fuels your body’s speedrun to your release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you curse, your orgasm hitting you like the crash of a wave before you go underwater. But you don’t care to drown if it feels this satisfying.

You laugh breathlessly when the end of your release comes. Sunghoon wipes your essence off of his lips with the back of his hand, smiling bashfully. Every action of his before is incredibly contrary to his shy expression, but you love it.

Ridding himself of his pants, Sunghoon’s cock springs free from the constricting article of clothing. The tip is leaking with precum, but he isn’t in a rush to jump on top of you like the many times before when you both were too frustrated to worry with foreplay.

He kisses you with all he has when he crawls on top of you. His tongue inside of your mouth fills it with the taste of your slick. In a blip, he has a condom in his hand and puts it on with quick skill. There’s no need to prep you, your previous orgasm leaving you wet and waiting for him to line up with your entrance and slip inside.

He does it expertly. Both of you tremble from the feeling you long forgot felt so otherworldly, his cock making a home within your walls and your body adjusting to the delicious stretch.

The song in the background fills your ears with the sounds of a slow-strumming guitar, reflecting the thrust of Sunghoon’s hips. Your hips meet his when he’s filled you to the hilt, causing you to sigh. “Fuck, just like that.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Sunghoon whispers between thrusts, moaning sweet nothings into your mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” you whisper in kind, gasping. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each press of his hips, exiting slowly and pushing back inside until there’s no space left to accommodate him.

How could you be so filled, figuratively and literally, by the love he had to offer you? For anyone else who’s never known the feelings stirring inside of you, a mixture of sinful pleasure and pure happiness, you feel sorry for them. If everyone in the world did, they might have been labeled as two extra wonders of the world.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come again,” you say, clutching onto his hips. You bite down on the skin of his shoulder, releasing your moans into his skin as his pace speeds up.

“Yes, baby, give it to me,” he groans, gulping hard and body frantic to take you both to the your climaxes. You feel the stars behind your eyes when your second orgasm comes, a long cry leaving your lips. Sunghoon matches it with a broken moan, the sound coming out in fragments as he spills inside of the condom.

Sunghoon lathers your face in deep, heartfelt kisses before pulling out. He walks to the bathroom quickly, throwing away the condom in the trash and grabbing a cloth to clean you up. He runs the fabric between your legs, careful not to press down too hard and overstimulate you.

You both crawl under the covers after he throws the rag in his hamper, your body immediately snuggling into his. The crown of your head receives another blitz of kisses, your smile hurting your cheeks from how wide it goes.

“I love you,” Sunghoon says, the words coming without a second thought.

And with no regrets on your mind or in your heart, resolute in your decision to forgive him, you say, “I love you, too, Hoon. Always.”

People could always change if they had the determination and inspiration to do so, and you know that for sure now. In  the arms of the one you love, that fact could not be more true.

@mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @dreamiestay

[thaatdigitaldiary]

my eyes are open

paige bueckers x fem reader

hiii! this is a continuation to part one, “open your eyes” as requested! read first for context!

you and paige have talked about moving forward since that night, and from then on its been nothing but reciprocated love.

fluff, sexual content, paige being corny n flirty what’s new, slight angst, inexperienced reader, proofread but this girl got tired mid write so if there’s a mistake, ignore it🙂‍↕️

enjoy! 🙂‍↕️

you and paige have left the party happy and content, but there were still things you two had to talk about. you wanted to be paige’s girlfriend, but that’s something you couldn’t just jump into. you shared your moment after the party, but you wanted to make it special for you, and for paige.

you and jana bought some legos from amazon a couple days ago, and you saved one last set for you and paige. it was a lego rose bouquet, something she wanted for a long time. you intended for this night to be memorable, you build your legos, watch a movie, and you ask the question. but why did you feel sick to your stomach? you started to contemplate committing to paige, you being so unknown and paige having a camera in her face everywhere she went. you were a nobody. you couldn’t be seen with paige, she was a celebrity.

you brushed the thought out of your mind for tonight, not wanting to worry her, as your facial expression told a thousand words, and you sucked at hiding how you felt. paige knew you front and back too, that was her specialty. whenever you were sad, she always knew. but this was different. you needed to get it together, so you could avoid what comes next.

you put on some low waisted plaid pajama pants and a cropped white tank, and grab your keys and the legos you bought to go over to paige’s apartment. you throw on a pair of your ugg slippers, and head out the door. you’re a nervous wreck to say the least, rehearsing what you’re actually gonna say to paige, and let her know how you feel about moving forward. but did you even know what you wanted?

paige was all about you for years, admiring you when you weren’t looking, complimenting you anytime she got, and being there for you when you needed her, every single time. paige was your comfort person, and a million thoughts swarmed in your head, hoping dating each other wouldn’t mess things up between you two. you truly loved and cherished paige, not missing a single basketball game, whether it was a home or away game, and even going to support the team when she was injured. paige never had someone do that for her, which is why she fell ten times harder for you.

you drive to paige’s apartment, smile on your face, and feeling somewhat better knowing you’ll get everything off your chest, you two will talk, and hopefully in the end it’ll all be perfect. paige was perfect. you loved all six feet of her, her long blonde hair cascading past her shoulders, her blue eyes filled with love and admiration, the way she was so corny it was adorable, wanting to be by her side for the rest of your life, no matter what it took.

paige has dated other girls before, but one thing you noticed is they never stayed around long, paige always let you or basketball get in the way of the relationship, not having time for the other girls in her life, ultimately making them leave. paige didn’t really care though, because they weren’t you. you had a spark paige didn’t see in anyone else, your smile, your kindness, the way you stayed even when paige was going through some of the toughest moments of her life, you never left. she fell in love with you years ago, but was unsure of how you’d take it.

you pull into paige’s apartment parking lot, taking a deep breath and grabbing the plastic bag with the legos you planned on building with her, and taking your keys out of your car. while walking to her door, you texted her “i’m omw up”, and with that paige texted back “door’s unlocked mama”, making you blush slightly at the nickname, even though she’s been calling you that for years now. it was different now though.

you let yourself in, and paige immediately paces to her front door, opening my her arms for a hug. you hug her, and she takes in all of you. your hips, the way your pants sat low right on them, loving how the cropped shirt you wore left little to the imagination, the tanktop showing enough to distract paige, and your gold locket sat perfectly on your neck, one piece of jewelry you never took off, with the cutest picture of younger you and paige. “i missed you so much ma,” paige tells you, going in for a kiss. you two kiss, the time apart making you feel desperate for her, not wanting to disconnect your lips. the kiss was pure, and it makes you smile, knowing paige was your real first kiss. you never told paige you didn’t have much experience, she just assumed you’ve done something with somebody in your life, but feeling too scared to genuinely ask. after you two kiss, paige rests her hands on the exposed skin of your hips, her hands mildly cold, the sensation being something you didn’t mind. she looks down and sees you holding the plastic bag, which contained the legos you two are going to construct tonight, and after you were done with it, you planned to ask paige to be your girlfriend. “is this for us? what’s in it lemme see,” paige tries to take the bag from you, but you snatch it away from her. “it’s a surprise baby, go sit,” you say, making paige raise her eyebrow at you and smirk, making you laugh. “shit, yes ma’am,” she says, winking at you. her corniness made you giggle, a noise she loved hearing.

paige sits on the couch, and you take the lego set out of the bag. “oh shit y/n, i’ve been tryna get this one for weeks, they’re always sold out! how did you get this?” she says excited, already unboxing and laying out the plastic bags that were inside. “baby, amazon is a thing.” she looks at you and jokingly rolls her eyes, and you kiss her forehead. those little gestures made paige melt, kissing her forehead, her hands, and her cheek, making things so much more lovey dovey and nurturing, bringing a smile to her face.

you two listen to her playlist and build, determined to finish no matter what time it was. sometimes you would take breaks and just watch paige put the pieces together. you did this a lot back then, when she would play games on her ps5, the way her veiny hands worked around the controller, making you think thoughts that are so wild, you had to keep them to yourself. her hands work skillfully on the lego set, driving you mad. you thought you were being subtle until she says “you like what you see ma?” and the truth is, you did. not just her hands, but her. she had on a white sports bra and basketball shorts, her hair slicked back in the bun you loved so much. you don’t respond to her comment, but you do blush and roll your eyes.

even though this was a good and memorable moment, your poker face sucked. you looked worried, lost in thought, and paige knew that. she stopped the piece she was putting together, and looked at you. “ma look at me.” you lifted your head up and put on a fake smile, trying to cover up the fact that you had so much to say, but didn’t know how to say it. “what’s going on with you mama?” she saw right through you. “nothing baby, let’s keep building,” you say grabbing another piece, but she doesn’t budge. she takes the piece from your hand, and holds it. “talk to me. please?” and with that, your fake smile drops, and your whole face shifts. “paige, are you sure you’d wanna date me? there’s so many people on your level, i mean shit, nobody even knows my name.” paige’s look softens, knowing this has been on your mind for who knows how long. “i just don’t want you being with a nobody i-,” paige cuts you off. “hey baby no, you’re not a nobody. i don’t care about people not knowing you, cause baby i do. that’s all i need, you’re all i need.” you start tearing up, being a sensitive person, any sentimental speech automatically made you cry. paige takes your hand and kisses the back of it, and cups your face with her other hand. “baby i love you, hell, i’ve loved you for a long ass time, just waiting for the perfect moment to let you know that.” you look at her, eyes soft and teary, and you smile. “i just have one question.” paige states, and you look at her, waiting on the ask. “i really, really love you y/n, and i’ll do a whole big thing soon but, i want it official. will you be my girlfriend? you’re stunned at first, but you jump in her arms and kiss her. you let go and respond, “of course p.” paige is ecstatic, with the finished lego and a beautiful girlfriend, she has everything she needs.

you two sit on her couch, admiring one another and just talking, when another question surfaces from paige, making you nervous. “was i your first kiss?” you hesitate with your answer. “yeah, it’s kind of embarrassing. you know i’ve never really dated anyone.” honestly, paige was happy it was her and not anybody else, because one thing paige knew, was that anything you experienced, she was determined to make it special. “mama that’s far from embarrassing, i’m glad i was.” you smile at this information, happy your girlfriend was so understanding. there was a moment of silence, as paige looked you up and down before she spoke again, saying one simple thing. “cmere.”

you climb into paige’s lap kissing her with so much passion, you were surprising yourself. “fuck baby, for your first time you know what you’re doing,” the both of you laugh, while paige nuzzles her head in your neck, and kisses it slowly and carefully, making sure not to miss a spot. “you smell so good mama, whatchu got on?” she licks her lips at your scent, and you moan softly as her lips connect back on your neck. “shit p, i can’t tell you fuck-, it’s a secret.” your tanktop strap falls down a little, giving paige more access to this neck of yours, that smelled so fucking good. “you keeping secrets from me baby? you don’t wanna tell your girlfriend whatchu got on?” she kisses lower down your chest, making you moan quietly, nervous to see where this goes. “can i take this off?” paige asks, referring to this tanktop, that can’t seem to get out of her way. “yeah baby, take it off.” she doesn’t hesitate, practically ripping the shirt off of you, revealing the black lacy bra you wore, just for her.

in the midst of you kissing, paige noticed your body language. you were tense, and she knew that. “mama, you doing okay?” she asks with concern, wanting to make sure you were good before she continues. “yea-yeah, im just-, new to it y’know,” she stops kissing your neck to look at you. “baby i got you okay, if you don’t wanna do this i’m perfectly fine with just holding you.” you sigh of relief, and wanting to continue. “i’m okay, i want this, i want you.” those words alone made paige hungry for more, needing you so bad. “you sure mama? talk to me.” she needs complete confirmation, before she shows you how much she loves you. “yes, i’m sure, just-, please touch me.”

she lays you down on her couch, unclasping your bra in the process, throwing it somewhere in her apartment. your pajama pants were so loose they were practically doing the job for her, exposing your legs and thighs she loved so much. she kisses around your tits, the sight of them making her weak. “you’re beautiful mama.” she says to you, her words making you moan, her voice alone leaving you soaked. she slowly takes your pajama pants off, the matching black lacy panties you wore, slightly see through. she kisses around your pussy, delicate and slow. “are you sure you’re ready ma?”

“i’m sure.”

she laps at your pussy, the vibration of her moans bringing chills to your core, a sensation you’ve never felt before. “my god paige,” you moan, making her eat you out faster, wanting to feel you on her tongue. “you taste so good baby, all this for me?” she says, talking you through your first time, and you’re getting close already, feeling embarrassed that you couldn’t last long. paige loves it though. “cmon mama give it to me, fuck-, let it out baby.” this brings you closer and closer you’re stomach getting tighter by the second. “p, fuck-, please i’m already-“ you’re cut off by your own loud moan, from your core twisting, and all of you all over paige’s tongue. you shake from the high, and paige kisses you, whispering praises in your ear.

“you’re okay baby, i got you, you did so good.” she peppers kisses on your cheek and forehead, allowing you to relax. “but what about you p, i wanna make you feel good too?” she holds your hand and plays with the rings on your fingers, and explains to you that there will be more times for you to please her, but this was for you. you accept that, and nuzzle into her, her long arms wrapping around you, making you feel safe.

you had fallen for paige, but easy to say she fell ten times harder.

paige was perfect for you, your eyes were open, and you got a glimpse of how she truly saw you, the love of her life.

HEY BAD BITCHESSSSS!!! i finally made part two🙄being a full time student make big mama tired, i fell asleep mid proofread once😖. anyways i hope you enjoyed! i also kinda hinted that there will be more of this, (wink wink) i wonder if you can catch it? i hope you loved it! love you guyssss

tags: @rosemariiaa, @patscorner, @ohbueckers, @juspeaks, @bueckerscore, @wbbgetsmewetter

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[cantareincminor]

Liars and Killers

Thank you to the amazing @unhappy-sometimes for this beautiful birthday gift! She asked me what my favorite scene in Orpheus is, and I may have word vomited all my favorite scenes at her while trying mightily not to spoil the fic (too late).

Spoilers under the cut:

From Ch. 32 "Liars and Killers":

"...I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I don’t deserve to. The words feel so cheap and dirty coming from a liar like me.” “Just say it, love. I don’t see a liar. Do you see a killer when you look at me?”

Orpheus has a lot of emotional highs and lows, and this chapter is one of the major turning points in the story. All the Project Apple stuff, Garden lore, etc. came much later in my planning. But I had known from the start that I would write the catharsis of Ch. 32. When I finally arrived at it, I was so happy. The happiness of creating something deeply meaningful to myself, and hopefully to readers.

I love how @unhappy-sometimes portrays emotions in Twilight, whether he is enamored, annoyed, freaking out, or an emotional wreck. And she always makes Yor look so soft and caring. This moment came together beautifully in her art.

Thank you again friend!!!

P.S. Making fun of myself here...the wording I chose belatedly reminded me of this: