#but the MOMENT you're close enough it's over for them

[plumipal]

The Tattoo (part three)

After scarabias overblot, and seeing what Ace and Deuce were willing to do for you, you were so touched that you decided to get them tattooed on your body as a small heart and a spade. After that chaos ensues-

If you wanna read the whole prolouge, then it's here

Oh poor Idia, where do we even start for him?... poor guy is absolutely shattered as soon as he saw those two tattoos on you through the cameras. He felt his entire reason to live just shatter. He feels his entire world collapsing in on itself. He completely just, breaks down, sobbing to himself on the floor trying to rationalise how the tattoos were not real, to try to keep his sanity in tact.

The days after that disastrous breakdown, he has been stuck in bed, too depressed to frankly do anything but to sulk. He had not eaten, not drank enough, and his personal hygiene is downright awful.

Once Ortho has convinced him to get up because crowley demanded him to actually attend his classes or it's byebye NRC for Idia, his pity for himself has turned into rage. Whenever he sees the dumb duo he can't help but to want to do anything against them, he sure would LOVE to doxx them...

But after some reconciderence from Ortho (statistics show he would be one of the top suspects for it and therefore make the prefect hate him even more (he believes)) he instead chose to take care of himself, putting actual effort in how he looks as to win you over with that. He sure hope it works, please...

Don't think ortho is just hyping up his brother, cuz he is sure helping on the sidelines. Digging up info the students don't want anyone to know abour sure is easy when you have unlimited internet access (and some illegal ways to obtain the info)

That's the easy way of getting students away from you, but getting you trapped up with them is almost just as easy. He starts calling you his siblings as well, subtly telling you how you and idia would be the greatest siblings ever to him, even backing up and glorifying hos brother in your eyes, anything it takes to get you to chose idia.... you will all be a happy family....

Sebek, for once in his life, is stunned to silence. He cant quite grapple the thoughts and feelings swirling within him is making him feel quite sick, making him quiet for the rest of the day..

Once classes has ended, he bolts over to his dorm only to dramatically lock himself in his dorm room and let out the worst crying session ever. He is sobbing,

The whole ordeal and emotions results in him having the need to constantly watch over you, as a way to show that he too can protect you, he can be there for you, just like ace and Deuce, but better! Please, he needed you, he needs you to need him too, please...

Silver don't quite know what to think about this. He cant blame you, the heroic stunts of your friends sure are nice, but why with something so permanent? He could do what they did and so much more for you, give him an opportunity and he will show you.

After "the talk" the four of them had, he has had a hard time sleeping for the first time in his life. He feels exhausted yet can't close his eyes, pictures of you happily being with ace and Deuce clouding his poor exhausted brain. He will take this on the only way he knows, a duel for your love and your hand.

You're not dumb either, you see how tired he had been and the lack of sleep he has been getting, and feeling bad for him you let him sleep on tou if that would help him. He takes this opportunity and sure is greedy with it, wanting more and more sleep time with you. It's one way to claim you, and at the moment it's enough for him, but don't think he won't demand more in the soon future..

Lilia feels heartbroken. First that the prefect, his beloved, has shown this love that he would love to have for someone else (especially two people), it breaks his heart. What breaks his heart even more is how he needs to go against his own sons for his beloved too. But he will do whatever it takes to secure you for himself.

When he meets you after hearing about the tattoo, he tries act as normal as possible, not wanting to scare you away with his desperation. Despite that though, he will also try to advance, because he is NOT losing to all these youngsters, he's old enough to know exactly how to treat someone right. Let him treat your right, please, he begs of you....

Malleus feels like there's a storm inside him, getting worse by every second he thinks about that forsaken tattoo you have. He activately tries to think less about it, not wanting the whole school to be stuck in a storm for weeks, especially when you're situated in that poor awful old and decrepid building. He will try to smite ace and Deuce if he has the choise to though-

After the anger dies down, that's when the sadness flows in. The fact that he was not your favorite, that he was not worth his own tattoo, frankly brings him to tears. He has never been denied something in his life, especially something that he wants so badly. It's a foreign feeling, and a horrible one at that.

He is an attention hungry dragon, give him what he wants and he will give you the world without question. Just, please, give him the love and affection he both crave and deserves...

Chat, im tired. Let me sleep- FINALLY THIS SERIES IS FINISHED! or so I thought- o will focus on other comics/ideas before I come back for the endings tho, because I kinda wanna do other stuff and not just the tattoo shenanigans yknow :) one again huge thanks to @artdolliewishes for lots of support and help lmao

I hope yall enjoyed this shitshow of a series atleast, was lots of fun to create after all

[d-z20]

The Agent Next Door (18+, NSFW)

Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You don't really talk to your (extremely attractive) neighbour, Rio Vidal, until one day an accident leads to you staying at her apartment for a couple of days. And an awkward encounter results in having your fantasy come true. -OR- Rio finds you injured after you slipped and fell out the shower and decides to look after you (non-magic AU)

Warnings: Blood, small injury, fluff, smut, fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving)

Words: 3.4k

A/N: Just wanted to write a bit of Rio caring for reader and well then it turned into smut and I have no regrets. Also I have their whole relationship arc in my head now lol

Read it on AO3

Rio Vidal is your neighbour. You've noticed her plenty of times before—a striking woman with a sharp, confident look that's hard to ignore. You live in the same apartment building, just across the hall from one another. Most days, your interactions are limited to polite smiles and brief chats in the elevator, her dark suit and badge often catching your eye. You've heard her phone buzz with work calls that end with her curt, professional voice. It's obvious she's someone important—serious and dedicated. You've pieced together that she's an FBI agent, but beyond that, you don't know much about her.

You can't deny that you're drawn to her, though. There's something about the way she carries herself—all self-assured and enigmatic. You've caught yourself staring a few times, your heart skipping a beat when she looks back and flashes a rare, amused smile. It's not just her looks—it's the way she moves, the air of mystery she carries, like she's seen things you could only imagine. It makes you nervous, but at the same time, you can't help but look forward to those fleeting moments when your paths cross.

One morning, your shower decides to betray you—your hot water cuts out just as you put your head under. You let out a bloodcurdling scream, quickly trying to jump out of the shower. Unfortunately for you, your foot slips on the hard floor, and you come crashing down, hitting your head on the sink, landing with a very loud thud. Dazed and confused, you are unsure if you passed out for a second there or not, but either way your head is killing you. 

"Fucking brilliant," you mutter to yourself, draping an arm across your eyes to shield them from the light.

At that moment, you heard your front door slamming open and hurried footsteps searching your apartment. You had just about enough sense to yank your towel off the hook and cover up your naked body.

"Y/N?" called a voice just outside the bathroom door.

Shit. It was Rio. You wished the ground would just swallow you up.

"Are you okay? I heard you scream, and then I heard something shatter." You could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

Lifting your head slightly, you noticed the shards of glass from what used to be your bathroom shelf, surrounding you. All you could do was let out a groan and close your eyes at this new development of what was turning out to be the worst morning of your life so far.

This was a bad choice, as a split second later, Rio barged into your bathroom.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Your neighbour teased, but you could hear the relief in her voice. She moved further into the room, assessing the damage. "Not to ruin such a perfect morning for you, but I might have broken your door getting in here." 

You open your eyes, blinking up at her. Taking her in, you noticed she was wearing a cropped baggy tank top and gym shorts. You blink up at her again, and your head throbs with each beat of your pulse, the pain radiating down your neck. You're still dazed, trying to process how you ended up sprawled on the cold bathroom floor with your FBI agent neighbour standing over you. Rio's sharp eyes take in your silence, concern clouding the playful smirk she'd worn just moments before.

"Hey," she says, voice softer now, as she crouches down beside you. She reaches out, fingertips gently brushing your cheek to turn your face towards her. "Y/N, can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"

You swallow, trying to focus. Her touch is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to her usual no-nonsense demeanour. You nod slightly, the movement making your head spin. "Rio," you manage to croak out. "Neighbour, FBI agent. And, apparently, a door kicker."

She huffs a laugh, a brief flicker of relief crossing her face. "Good. That's a start. I don't usually make a habit of barging into people's bathrooms uninvited, but I heard that scream, and... well, I'm glad I did." Her eyes drop down to your arm, where blood seeps from a jagged cut. She curses under her breath, her grip on your shoulder tightening just slightly. "You're bleeding. We need to get you cleaned up."

You glance down at your arm, wincing at the sight of blood trickling down to your hand. "I really know how to make an impression, huh?"

Rio shakes her head, lips pressed together in a tight line. "Let's save the jokes until you're not covered in glass, yeah?" Without another word, she slips an arm under your shoulders, helping you sit up. The world tilts slightly, but her hold on you is firm, steadying you as you get your bearings.

"You're going to have to trust me for a minute," she tells you softly. "Can you stand?"

"Maybe," you say, though you're not entirely sure. She helps you up, careful not to jostle your injured arm, and you try to ignore the heat of her skin against yours, the way her fingers dig into your side just enough to ground you.

Rio's eyes dart around the room, quickly assessing the mess of broken glass and water pooling on the floor. "Alright," she says decisively. "I'm taking you back to my place. We'll patch you up there. Your shower is out of commission, and I don't trust that you won't take another tumble if I leave you alone here."

You don't have the energy to argue, so you just nod, letting her guide you out of the bathroom. The two of you make it to the hallway, but not before she grabs a spare towel and wraps it around you more securely. Her movements are quick and efficient, but there's a gentleness to them that surprises you. It's a side of Rio you've never seen before—one that's patient and caring, not just the tough, sarcastic woman you've exchanged pleasantries with in passing.

As you step into her apartment, you notice it's much more personal than you'd imagined. There are framed photos on the walls—nothing too sentimental, mostly candid shots of places she's travelled to, city skylines, and sunsets. Her living room is cosy, with a worn leather couch and a small stack of books piled on the coffee table.

"Sit," she instructs, pointing to the couch. You sink down into it, feeling strangely out of place but oddly comfortable. Rio disappears into the bathroom for a moment, returning with a first aid kit. She kneels in front of you, carefully prying your hand away from your arm.

"This is going to sting," she warns, pulling out an antiseptic wipe. You flinch as she cleans the cut, her brows knitting together in concentration. "Sorry," she mutters. "I'm used to dealing with criminals and suspects, not clumsy neighbours."

"Criminals don't trip in the shower much?" you quip, trying for humour despite the pain. It earns you a small smile from Rio, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"Not usually, no. Though I'll admit you're far more entertaining." Her voice softens again, the smirk fading as she wraps a bandage around your arm. "You scared me for a second there, you know."

The confession catches you off guard. "I did? you ask, watching her face as she finishes tying off the bandage.

She doesn't look up, her focus still on your arm. "Yeah," she says quietly. "I thought something bad had happened. Guess I care more about my neighbour than I realised."

Your heart skips a beat, the words hanging in the air between you. It's the first real admission of anything beyond casual friendliness, and it leaves you breathless. You're about to say something—anything—but Rio stands up, offering her hand to you.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get you some proper clothes and maybe a coffee. You can stay here until we sort out your door and shower."

Rio's grip on your hand is firm as she helps you up, her expression still hovering somewhere between concern and her usual, dry amusement. You follow her into the kitchen, and she releases you, motioning for you to sit at the table. It feels strange being here, in her space, especially after the chaos of your morning. She pulls out a chair for you with a slight roll of her eyes, as if it's absurd that you'd even try to resist her instruction.

"I don't have any shifts for the next two days," she announces, moving towards the coffee maker without glancing back at you. "And considering you might've blacked out for a second back there, I'm not letting you out of my sight. So, you're staying with me, here, until you're back on your feet properly."

You open your mouth to argue, but the look she throws over her shoulder silences you. It's one part worry and two parts something else—something softer, almost protective.

"I can manage," you say, but your voice lacks conviction, especially as you rub your throbbing arm. The bandage is already starting to bleed through a bit. Rio's eyes narrow at the sight, and she steps closer, prodding your arm gently.

"Yeah, you're doing a great job," she says dryly, then nods to herself. "You're staying here."

"Fine," you sigh, though part of you feels a flutter of something—relief, maybe, or the thrill of being looked after by someone like Rio. "But I can sleep on the couch. I don't want to kick you out of your bed."

Rio's lips twitch into a smirk. "I'm not letting you take the couch. You've already proven that you're a danger to yourself in any situation that involves standing up."

You can't help but laugh, despite everything. "So, what, we share your bed?"

She raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to challenge her. "It's a queen size. I think we can manage. Unless you've suddenly developed a fear of co-sleeping?"

The thought of sharing a bed with her sends a rush of heat through you, but you try to play it off with a shrug. "As long as you don't hog the covers."

"I'll do my best," she says, the smirk widening.

-

The first night is awkward, as expected. You lie stiffly on one side of the bed, while Rio takes the other, the space between you feeling like a chasm despite the closeness. She's warm though, and you can feel the heat radiating from her body and the subtle scent of her shampoo filling your senses. It's both comforting and maddening, making it hard to fall asleep. You’re hyper-aware of every shift she makes, every time her arm brushes against yours. At some point, she turns onto her side, facing you, and you feel her eyes on you in the dark.

"You still awake?" she whispers.

"Yeah," you reply, swallowing hard.

There's a pause, then you feel her hand brush against yours. It's light, almost as if by accident, but when you don't pull away, she leaves it there, her fingers barely touching yours.

"Try to get some sleep," she murmurs. "You need to rest."

"Alright," you say, voice hoarse, and somehow, with her so close, you finally drift off.

Over the next day and a half, the tension between you shifts, It's subtle at first—small, lingering glances from Rio that last a bit too long, the brush of her fingers against your back when she helps you into the kitchen. Her sarcasm returns, but there's a flirtatious edge to it now, like she's testing the waters.

"You're really milking this injury, aren't you?" She teases, handing you your drink to have with the pizza she bought for dinner. "You'd think you broke your entire body, the way you're lounging around."

"Hey," you protest, setting the drink down. "You're the one who insisted I stay. Don't blame me for enjoying the hospitality."

She leans against the counter, arms crossed, a grin tugging at her lips. "Oh, I'm well aware. But don't get too comfortable with me waiting on you hand and foot—I've got to go back to work tomorrow.”

-

That night, the atmosphere between you shifts even more. When you climb into bed besides Rio, there's no hesitation this time. She turns towards you almost immediately, her hand resting lightly on your hip as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of your shirt, her breath warm against the back of your neck. It's a small touch, nothing too bold, but it feels significant—an unspoken acknowledgement of everything simmering between you two. You fall asleep like that, closer than before, your fingers unconsciously brushing hers under the covers.

When you wake up, she's already dressed for the day, leaning over you with a mug of coffee in hand. She sets it down on the nightstand with a playful smile. "Morning sweetheart," she says, her voice laced with that familiar teasing tone, but there's a softness to it now. "Try not to do anything risky while I'm gone, yeah? I don't want to come back to find you've taken a tumble without me here to save the day."

You laugh, reaching for the coffee, but there's a flutter in your chest at the pet name, even if she means it jokingly. "I'll do my best," you say. "But no promises."

She smirks, leaning down just enough to press a light kiss to your forehead. "Good. I'll be back later. Make yourself at home."

You do. The rest of the day passes in a strangely pleasant haze, and you find yourself enjoying the small comforts of her apartment. It's quiet without her, but there's a sense of ease you haven't felt in a long time, like you truly belong here. You find yourself smiling for no reason, touching the small trinkets on her shelves, running your fingers over the soft throw blankets she has draped across the couch.

By the time you decide to take a shower, you're feeling entirely too content. You strip down, stepping under the hot spray with a sigh. That's when your thoughts drift back to Rio—how she looked last night, half-asleep and tousled, her arm draped over your waist, her expression unguarded in a way you'd never seen before.

Your thoughts turn to fantasy almost unbidden. You imagine her joining you in the shower, pressing you back against the cold tiles, her hands sliding down your wet skin. You can almost feel it—the heat of her breath on your neck, the firmness of her body against yours. You start to move your hand towards your aching clit, letting out a quiet, shuddering moan, lost in the fantasy of what it would be like to kiss her and have her hands on you.

You don't hear the bathroom door open, but suddenly, you hear her voice—low and amused. "You sure you're okay in here? Didn't have another fall, did you?"

You freeze, eyes snapping open. You can barely see her through the steam, but she's there, standing just outside the shower curtain, and you realise with a jolt that she must have heard you. You heart slams against your ribs as the curtain slides back just a little, and Rio steps inside completely naked, her smirk evident even through the haze.

"I really just can't trust you not to injure yourself while showering, can I?" she says, voice teasing but thick with something else—desire, maybe. Her eyes travel down your body, lingering in a way that sends a shiver through you.

"Rio," you breathe out, half a warning, half a plea.

She steps closer, crowding you against the wall, her hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. "You know," she murmurs, her lips so close to yours now that you can feel the brush of them with every word. "I think you've been waiting for me to do this."

And then she kisses you, slow and heated, like she's been thinking about this just as much as you have. Her mouth is soft but insistent, coaxing a response from you until you melt into her, hands tangling in her hair as you kiss her back just as eagerly. The steam from the shower mixes with the heat between you, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

When she finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, her forehead resting against yours. "I knew it," she whispers, her voice laced with satisfaction. "You've been wanting this so badly, haven't you?"

You nod, swallowing thickly. "Yeah," you admit, barely louder than a whisper. "I have."

She grins, tugging you closer until you're pressed against her, chest to chest. "Good," she says, leaning in to kiss you again, deeper this time. "Because I've been wanting it too."

And with that, she shoves you against the wall. Hard. She's kissing you all over, igniting the skin where each one lands. She nips and sucks at your neck, finding where you're most sensitive. A moan escapes your lips, and you buck your hips, trying to get any kind of friction against your core. For a brief moment, you start to get embarrassed, but then one of Rio's hands finds its way between your legs. She dips a finger between your lips and hums at how wet you already are for her.

Looking directly into your eyes, silently telling you to keep her gaze, she lowers herself to suck on one of your tits, tongue swirling around your nipple, making it harden quickly. The hand not on your clit, starts to pinch your other nipple, pulling another loud guttural moan from you. 

Working her mouth down your torso, marking up your body as she goes, Rio sinks to her knees, her face now directly opposite your dripping cunt, eyes still locked on yours.

Her hands deftly grip your hips, steadying you against the wall. "You've got to promise me you're not going to fall again, sweetheart," she all but growls, the arousal evident in her voice.

You nod your head, but it wasn't enough for the woman, who digs her nails into your skin where she's holding you. "Ye-Yes. I promise."

That is all Rio needs before she starts to drag her tongue through your folds. Switching between broad licks along the length between your entrance and your clit, and firmer, more purposeful circles over your bundle of nerves.

You feel dizzy, but you know it has nothing to do with your concussion and everything to do with the woman kneeling between your legs. Despite your head spinning, you manage to bring your hands down to tangle in Rio's hair, pushing her harder into you. You need more.

She moans against you, clearly enjoying how turned on you are. The vibration from the moan goes straight to your core, and you nearly cum just from that. Sensing you're close, Rio pushes two fingers inside you, causing you to curse her name inbetween moans.

You feel her chuckle and then start fucking you more vigorously. "I want to hear you, baby. I want the whole floor to hear you moan my name," she says, momentarily pulling away from your pussy. You can't help but oblige as she starts to curl her fingers, resuming her licking and sucking.

With her fingers curling inside you like that, it isn't long before you climax, legs shaking, cumminng hard over her fingers and tongue. Rio helps you through the end of your orgasm, making sure to hold you up as you come back down. 

"Okay, darling, I think we need to sit you down before you lose another fight with gravity," Rio smirks. You can't help but agree; your knees feel very weak and it's taking all of your concentration to stay upright.

"Oh, by the way, I bumped into the maintenance guys on my way in," Rio says lightly, helping you out of the shower. "And they said that your door isn't getting fixed for at least another week. So, it looks like you'll have me to help you shower for a little while longer." Winking, she drags you to her bed, determined to continue what she had just started.

_

alright folks, I've got a sequel in the works but can't decide on the vibes (there'll be smut regardless):

[ylangelegy]

is it casual now? (teaser) 🫀 seungcheol x reader.

★ seungcheol x makeup artist!f!reader. ★ teaser word count: ~8,000 ★ genre/warnings: mdni. 18+ content. situationship/friends with benefits, light angst, use of pet name ('love'). soft dom!seungcheol, making out, biting/marking, protected sex. let me know if i missed anything! ★ footnotes: this has been on my backburner for months. it's admittedly a full-blown story in need of hard editing, and so i'm posting this in hopes of bullying myself into working on the whole thing. should it come down to it, though, i like to think this can stand on its own. enjoy. <3

Seungcheol has been in the industry long enough to know that everybody had vices.

Trainees, rookies, veterans. It didn't matter. There were dangerous, risky vices. Alcohol, drugs, smoking. There was dating, too, of course. Dating fans, dating fellow idols.

Seungcheol didn't do drugs. He smoked socially, but he would rather not. And he drank, sure, but never to an unhealthy amount. Dating, however—

Did it really count when there was only really ever one person he treated like a vice?

You've been in his life since the group debuted. Nine years, give or take. And then, at one point, he just... tried something with you. And it clicked, fell into place, and now you've been sneaking around for the better half of three years. It's the one place Seungcheol feels like he can breathe, can get away. But it's also the biggest secret he's kept.

You're his makeup artist, after all.

When the two of you started off, you both insisted on nothing serious. To 'keep it casual'.

That worked perfectly for Seungcheol. He likes to think it's still working for him, as he raps at the door of your apartment and waits for you to open up. His wristwatch says that it's midnight, but it doesn't matter. He knocks a little louder, growing a touch impatient.

You open the door, and you're greeted with Seungcheol looking reproachful. "Yah," he chides. "Why haven't you been answering my texts?"

When you rub your eyes with the back of your hands and look over your shoulder to glimpse at your wall clock, Seungcheol almost feels apologetic. Almost. “Cheol,” you say exasperatedly, slowly. “It’s the middle of the night.” 

"So you were sleeping then, hmm?" Seungcheol says. The corner of his lips tilt up, just slightly. He leans against the doorframe, taking a brief amount of time to glance you over. As he does, a small wave of tiredness finally washes over him— just how late had he kept himself up working on new music? "I sent you texts hours ago."

"You didn't even read them." He reaches up, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He sighs, the sound almost exaggerated. "How cruel of you."

You let out a low hum at Seungcheol’s fingers brushing against your skin. “Mmm, I fell asleep with my phone in my hand,” you admit, the words coming out more like a soft sigh than anything else.

You seem to finally drag yourself out of your sleepy state to give Seungcheol a once-over. He knows it shows all over— the exhaustion in his eyes, his stance. He’s tired, and you can tell. You’ve always been able to tell. 

You step aside a bit and he takes that as his cue. Seungcheol moves past you, a small hum in the back of his throat. He toes off his shoes and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. In spite of himself, the moment he's inside, he reaches for you. 

One arm is loosely slung over your shoulders, pulling you in close. He rests his chin on your shoulder, the tip of his nose against your neck.

"You fell asleep..." he gripes. "Do you know how many texts I sent you? I sent five.” 

“Five”” you repeat as you bear Seungcheol’s weight. Your hand instinctively raises to stroke the base of his hair behind his neck, and he thinks he could melt then and there— your soothing touch, your light tone. “Oh, how ever will you live?”

Seungcheol huffs into the crook of your neck. The feel of your fingers in his hair does wonders to combat the tired, stressed part of himself. Slowly, his shoulders relax, and he sighs, the sound long and deep.

"Don't get snarky with me," he mutters. But there's no bite to it at all, just a quiet sense of contentment in his voice. "You could've at the very least read the messages." He moves, presses a kiss to your neck. "Would've taken ten seconds."

“I was asleep,” you protest, but— whether or not you notice— your head is tilting around a bit to press a lingering kiss on to the side of his face.Seungcheol's stomach flutters. You're sweet like that. Always have been, always will be. He hums under his breath at the kiss, his hand that's on your shoulder moves up to cup your cheek.

“That’s my penance,” you say drowsily. 

"One kiss isn't nearly enough," he tells you. 

He pulls back from your shoulder to look at you, now. The eye contact, the way he regards you, has a more focused weight. He takes a moment to look you over again— hair mussed, face still flushed faintly from sleep. "Two,” he says in a tone that brokers no argument. 

“Greedy,” you mumble, but both of you know it doesn’t matter. 

Not when your free hand finds purchase at his side and you use your fingers in his hair to pull him down so you don't have to stand on your tiptoes. Not when you press your lips together into a kiss that's soft and sweet, almost sleepy.

All it takes is the sound of your voice for Seungcheol to be pulled in— when you tug at his hair, he follows, his chest against yours. He bends down, his own hands coming up to the sides of your face.

He melts against your mouth, his eyes closing in an instant. But it’s done as quickly as it started. You pull away, your face still inches away from Seungcheol’s, as you smilingly mumble to him, “There. Two kisses.” 

His eyes open again once you pull away, his grip on your face tightening just slightly. "Three," he mutters back, and then he leans back in. 

You hum against his mouth, the sound breaking free from the back of your throat. You’re both so tired from your respective work and it shows in the kiss. No heat, no fire. Your tongue swiping over his lip makes Seungcheol hum, quiet and low in his throat. He's usually so used to being the one who takes control, making the first move, but here with you, in the early hours of the morning— there's something else to it.

He pulls you closer against him, his hands moving down to your hips. Against your mouth, he murmurs, "Four," before his tongue slips in, just to get a taste. Just to linger, just to savor, but not take over.

“Cheol,” you huff, though your reprimand is tempered by the way Seungcheol is intent on keeping the kiss going. “You’re— mmph— being greedy—” 

"Five—" he sighs against your mouth. "Let me be greedy a second more."

One of his hands moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling up in your hair. This is what he likes, this is what he always comes to you for. Something that's simple. This, he can deal with. This, he can handle.

It’s never a second more with Seungcheol. He’s always out the door when he can go, when he has to. He’s never been a glutton for time, and so it’s enough for you to sense that something is wrong. 

You break away from him. 

Seungcheol has to resist a whine when you pull back, his eyes fluttering open in a daze. Your hand has moved to his face and you’re looking up at him with a small frown and a quiet query. “Long week?” 

He lets your question hang in the air for a moment, the hand in your hair loosening its grip, fingers just idly combing through the strands.

He glances at your face— the furrow of your brow, the hint of concern in your eyes— and it makes him sigh. He turns his head to press a soft, quick kiss to your palm.

"Long year," he corrects.

You look like you want to say more. Seungcheol almost begs you not to. This— whatever the two of you have— it’s an outlet that won’t break him, won't ruin him, won't tarnish him or the group's name. He just wants— he needs—

You know exactly what he needs, even if he doesn’t always know himself. “How do you want your fifth kiss?” you ask instead of commenting on his obvious fatigue. 

Your question makes Seungcheol's head empty out in an instant.

It takes him a moment to think, to consider. His mind, hazy and tired as it is, struggles to come up with an adequate answer. All he knows is that he's comfortable, that he's tired, that you're here. And that's all he really needs, in the end.

He lets his hand fall from your hair, to the nape of your neck. "... Soft," he murmurs. "Soft and easy."

You’re back up on your tiptoes to give him what he asked for. A sweet, slow press of your lips against his. It’s a kiss that lovers give each other, even though you’re the furthest from that. 

It's easy, easy, easy for him to fall into the kiss just like that, a shudder running down his spine when your tongue doesn't invade him. It's sweet, it's chaste, it's simple. It's exactly the kind of kiss he needs after a week of work.

His hand on your neck moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there. He breaks away for a mere second, a fraction of a beat, to catch his own breath, but he kisses you right back after. 

"Six," he whispers desperately. "Again."

This time, you laugh against his mouth— a slightly muffled sound, not any less amused— but you give in, still. When you separate for air again, one of your hands rests on his chest to keep him away. “You have to let me breathe, Cheol,” you huff. 

Seungcheol has to resist groaning outright when your palm on his chest keeps him from coming in for another kiss. You're adorable like this, in the middle of the night, with sleep in your eyes and annoyance in your voice.

He knows he's being needy, taking advantage, but at the same time? It's all he seems to be able to do. Greedy, he hears you call him, and it's true.

"I'll let you breathe when I get my seventh kiss, then," he grumbles.

He can see the annoyance blooming on your expression, but he’s saved by one thing and one thing alone: The fact that you can get pretty greedy sometimes, too, especially when Seungcheol was involved. 

"Fine," you say haughtily, feigning annoyance. "Just one more kiss."

Seungcheol's eyes glimmer with something akin to mischief. His hands move to your face again, his own lips curving up in a smirk. You give him an inch, he wants a mile. It's his style. "One more kiss. That I can work with."

He brushes a thumb over your cheek again, his grip in your hair loosening only to brush some stray strands away from your face. "Only fair that I get to pick the way, then," he says, his tone low.

He's going to make the most of this opportunity, and you're letting him.

His tongue darts out briefly to lick over his bottom lip. "Open your mouth."

When you let out a noncommittal hom and oblige, parting your lips, he knows he’s gone. Seeing the obedience in your face makes Seungcheol's stomach do a little bit of an excited flip. You're like this, this, even when you're tired, when you're barely awake.

It's a little addicting.

"Good," he says softly. It's all the warning you get before he's got his mouth on yours again.

He kisses you— devours you, his tongue parting your lips, sliding into your mouth, taking. The kiss is almost bruising and seems to throw you off balance, but you quickly recover by pressing flush against Seungcheol and holding the sides of his arms. If he were a better person, Seungcheol would let this be the last one. Would let this kiss end and call it a night. 

But then the smallest of sounds escape you. A whimper, a soft noise that only makes all sense fly right out of Seungcheol's head. It's not fair, he thinks, that you still have a hold on him even in the middle of the night.

All it makes him do is pull you closer— press you up against the wall with his entire body, his hands still gripping your face as he kisses you deep. Harder than he usually would, rougher than he normally did.

He swallows the sound, his tongue still in your mouth.

Your fingernails are pressing into his biceps now. Your tongue is sinking into his lower lip; not quite biting, but enough to drag his focus away for a moment. "Seung," you sigh, and it’s like music to his goddamn ears. 

He was Choi or Seungcheol when he was in your makeup chair. Cheol, when it was just the two of you. But Seung was something different entirely. 

A small moan, low and quiet, gets caught in Seungcheol's throat when you bite into his lip, when you whine out his name like that. He knows what it means when you call him like that— knows what he's in for.

He relishes in it. In moments like these when he gets to be like this. When he doesn't have to be responsible, when he doesn't have to be a leader. He gets to be just Seung.

There isn't a single part of his body that's not on fire right now, not when he's got you pinned against the wall, not when you're all satin and soft against him. His grip on your face tightens, and now his lips are no longer on your mouth, but on your jaw, moving down to your neck, your throat.

A quiet, needy little ah falls out your lips when he nips at that spot on your pulse point, and there, there is exactly when he knows that he's got you exactly where he wants you. Pinned by his body, shaking and shivering like he's touching you for the first time.

If he was feeling a little less riled up, a little less needy, he'd keep up the teasing. But he can't, not now. His hands move from your face to your hips, moving under the satin of your pajamas. It's not enough, never enough.

Every sound that leaves your mouth, every little please, just, already sets a fire in his brain. Every part of his mind turns to static, white noise, as he keeps his lips on your throat, your neck, biting and nipping at your skin.

“Seung,” you hiss, your hands flying to his shoulders as you press your back on to the entryway wall, willing yourself not to crumple. “I’m going to get a noise complaint again—”

“I'll pay the fine,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips against your collarbone now, his hands still on your hips. His brain is starting to grow fuzzy, his thoughts less coherent, but this was the goal.

To get you like this. Soft and shaking and desperate. To make you his for the night, for just a little while. To hold some sort of control over something in his life.

“You can't just keep paying for— ah— the fines,” you’re babbling. “They're going— t-to kick me— Seung, fuck!"

Whatever you’re trying to say dies out when Seungcheol nips at your warm skin. The rational part of him, somewhere deep, deep inside, knows that you're right. He can't keep paying your fines for complaints of loud music and loud sex.

The part of him that's currently working on painting a bruise on your collarbone doesn't seem to care all that much.

"I'll pay," he repeats, between leaving a few more marks on your skin for good measure. "As many times as I have to—"

“Jesus Christ,” you cuss, your chest heaving as Seungcheol’s hand moves higher and higher up your shirt. “My neighbors are so fucking sick of me, and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault?” Even through the haze in his head, Seungcheol can't help the low scoff that he lets out. He wants to say that he couldn't care less about your neighbors— wants to say that your pretty mouth makes up for the noise, but something else catches his attention. The brush of his fingers on bare skin. 

His eyes go wide, his brain suddenly clearing.

"You're not wearing anything underneath your pajamas," he deadpans, his voice coming out in a low drawl.

Of course, that adds up. You hadn’t been expecting Seungcheol, after all, so he can’t blame you for foregoing the underclothes. Still, it only stokes the growing flame in the base of his stomach. Especially when you move your head back against the wall so you’re looking right up at Seungcheol, the ghost of a smirk on your face. 

“Wanna check for yourself?” you taunt. 

A low groan falls out of Seungcheol's mouth as soon as you ask that. Like clockwork, his hands go to the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric up slightly. Just a little bit, just to see if you're really not wearing anything beneath.

"You always like to tease," he says, his voice low. That hint of a smirk on your face is only serving to drive him that much crazier. "Go on, then. Show me, since you want to act all cocky."

You give him half an eye roll that’s more affectionate than anything else before reaching over to the back of your pajama collar. You pull the top over your head in one deft, swift movement. Seungcheol's eyes go wide for just a moment, taking in the sight of you, undressed, in front of him. It never stops shocking him, never stops making his heart thump a little harder, his breath coming out a little more labored.

“Happy?” you half-joke, your voice low. 

He looks at you, up and down, before his eyes go back to your face. His hands move from your hips to your waist, fingers tracing over the sides of your chest as he shakes his head.

"Not yet," he says. "But I will be."

His hands keep tracing over your skin, his touch light— almost feathery, as he keeps his eyes fixed on your face. There's something about seeing you so exposed like this that's driving him absolutely insane, something about you being entirely at his mercy that's making his eyes grow dark.

He leans in, bringing his lips just past your ear. "Turn around," he murmurs, almost like a command.

He sees how you swallow hard, how you take in the familiar darkness in Seungcheol’s gaze. You know him, have known him for years, and that comes with trust. Unflinchingly, you twist around in his arms to press your chest against the wall. 

He has you practically trapped, all against his chest and the wall. His eyes look at you up and down, taking in your bare shoulders and back, the way you've submitted to him so perfectly.

His hands go to your hips again, and his eyes look over your back, following the line of your bare spine. "What do you say we find a use for this wall besides me just pushing you up against it," he murmurs. "Hm?"

“Yes, please,” you whimper, and as soon as you agree, Seungcheol's hands tighten on your hips, his grip almost bruising as he pulls you a little closer to him. You're not going anywhere, not when he's got you like this.

He leans in, his body practically pressing up against your back, his chest against your skin. He bites down on your shoulder, pulling a strangled whine out from somewhere deep in your throat. "You look so goddamn pretty like this, love," he murmurs against your skin.

His hands move from your hips to your chest, tracing the skin there before he brings them up to your throat. He presses his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the thump thump thump of your heartbeat.

He can feel your heart thrumming against his hand, can practically hear you shaking. It's driving him absolutely insane— you, underneath him, trembling for him. The knowledge that he's got you like this, the fact that you're letting him take control, letting him do whatever he wants.

He moves his mouth to that spot on your neck again, the skin that's so sensitive that it makes you whimper and shiver. He always finds it so easy to tease those sounds out of you, and always relishes in doing it.

His hands stay at your neck, his fingers still pressed against your pulse point. This had always been one of Seungcheol's little habits— a single finger on your pulse point, as if he liked seeing which actions would make your heart rate spike, which words would have it hammering.

Seungcheol presses his lips on your skin again. "You're so loud."

He marvels at the way you ball your hands into fists, the way you shake all over with poorly concealed want and need as he keeps nipping and marking. "‘M not," you gasp, lurching forward against the wall. "‘M perfectly— hng!"

Everything is working in his favor.

You're shaking, and your heart is racing, and every noise you make is just more fodder for him. God, he loves it. Loves being the one to make you absolutely tremble and shiver like this. Loves the fact that he's the only one to make you feel like this.

"You're mine," he says again, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He bites the shell of it, hard, before letting out a low hum.

This is his favorite place in the entire world— right against your back, feeling your body heat against his chest, his tongue running over your skin. He loves how reactive you are to him, how sensitive you are, how your body just melts under his touch.

"Say it," he mutters against your skin. "Who's in control?"

There it is. The million won question.

The whole reason you started these rendezvouses in the first place. He had been spinning out of control, and you had been lonely, and you clicked into place like magnets. 

You give in, like you always do. The words are a soft whimper, almost a shout in your otherwise empty apartment. "You. You're in control, Seung."

That's all he wants to hear.

He digs his fingers into your jaw and wrenches your head so it's turned to look at him, his lips inches from yours. Even if there's a little pain, nothing in him is stopping. "Good," he mutters, his breath hot against your lips. "Good girl."

The kiss that follows is absolutely messy, the kind of kiss where it's just tongue and teeth and raw need. It's worlds different from the soft and easy kisses that Seungcheol asked for earlier, when he first came in complaining about five unanswered texts.

"Seung," you groan as you pull away for air. "Please—" 

When you moan his name, it's like something snaps.

He growls low, his fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts, gripping the fabric hard enough that there's a very real chance of them ripping. "Please what?" he mumbles against your neck. "You need to tell me what you need, love. Use your words."

"I hate you," you whine, and Seungcheol nearly smiles. He knows you’re not fond of begging, but he needs to hear it from you. At least, he wants to. 

"You know what I—" you’re saying, but dammit, his control is already razor thin as is. He rips off the last fabric of clothing on you until you’re completely bare, pressed entirely up between the wall and him. 

Somehow, your mind still has some shrivel of coherence to complain, "I liked this set, asshole!"

He grins against your skin at your words, chuckling at your whine, at the way you're just reacting to him. You can act annoyed, you can act like you don't need him, but he knows. "I'll buy you a new one," he hums, finally letting go of your shorts and letting them fall to the floor in tatters. "One for me to rip to shreds all over again."

That thought alone makes his blood sing.

It takes you a great effort to turn around, but somehow you manage. Seungcheol is still fully clothed and so your bare chest presses against the front of his shirt. The sight of you, naked, his hands at your hips, pressed right up against him, against his chest like this— he's gone.

And then you’re asking him, low and sweet as he has you caged in, "Where are you going to fuck me tonight, Seung?"

He can't even manage a word for a moment, his hands holding you so tight that he's definitely going to leave marks on your skin, his eyes fixed on your face.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry at the question. "You want me to say it out loud, hm?"

You go to steal the upper hand for a minute or so, and you do it so effectively. Your hand rises almost lazily to his neck, your finger instinctively finding his pulse point. He feels his heart rate speed up as he watches, just watches, you do it. You stand on your tiptoes to raise your lips directly to his ear. 

All he can feel is the thunder of his heart racing against your hand. You seem to notice it, too, if the smile on your face is any indication. 

"How about you just show me instead?" you say, and he’s convinced he’ll pass out then and there. 

"You're a brat," he mutters through gritted teeth, his hand moving up from your hips and up your spine. "A brat who needs to be taught a lesson."

He takes a shuddering breath, almost completely lost in your little game, before he snaps back to himself. Seungcheol's hand leaves your hip and goes to your hand, gripping your wrist hard. "On the sofa," he says, and it’s nothing short of a command. 

He practically drags you on to the piece of furniture, watching intently as you fall back with a small oomph. Seungcheol stands on the edge of the couch as you prop yourself up by the elbows to watch him right back. 

The sight of you underneath him— your hair splayed against the cushions, your eyes half-lidded and fixed on him? It's absolutely perfect. It's the kind of thing that he wants to keep in his mind forever, the sight he wants to always be able to remember.

He lets out a noise under his breath as he undoes the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper going down obscenely loud in the quiet room. "Gorgeous,” he breathes. 

He gets his jeans undone and kicked off, his shirt following them not long after, and then he's on top of you, caging you in, his hands either side of your head, staring down at you.

The look in his eyes isn't something he really gets to show often— that raw need, that want, how desperate he is for you. He wants you, God, he wants you so badly, and you're letting him have you.

He dips his head to your neck, his lips against your skin, his breath hot against your pulse point, still absolutely obsessed with that spot. His hands find your wrists, pinning them back against the couch, while his knee finds its way between your thighs, pressing up against you.

You arch and squirm underneath him, visibly distressed with the facsimile of friction that you’re getting from his knee. “Seung,” you pant, grinding your dripping core against his knee. It sends a jolt of electricity through him. “Please— don’t wanna wait any more—”

“Where’s all that snark now, hm?” he teases, his teeth running over the skin on your neck. But he’s not any better off, his own self-control slipping through his very fingers as his hips grind down against you desperately. 

"Been driving me insane, love," he whispers, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your neck. "Been dreaming about this for days. Missing you—” 

A low keen escapes you, and he can only echo it as you tug at the last piece of material separating you. “Can we get this off already, please?” you huff as you hook your fingers at the waistband of his boxer shorts. 

He groans against your skin, his teeth finally letting go when he lifts his head to look down at you, the expression on his face looking like he's fighting for control. "God, yes," he groans, lifting his hips just enough for you to tug them off him.

He kicks them off once you’ve yanked them down, and his hand— which has instinctively gravitated to your pulse point— feels how the beat absolutely skyrockets. One of your arms goes around his shoulder and the other, surprisingly, clutches his jaw.

You’re looking right at him as you say, "Fast and hard, Seung."

"Yeah?" he says, just the slightest hint of a surprise in his voice. "You want me to be rough with you, love?"

Seungcheol was usually a sweet lover. He liked taking his time, liked being gentle and responsible even in bed.

But there were particularly rough weeks, terrible days, where he just needed a means to an end. Where the sex was an outlet, where the best thing you could be for him was his. 

He waits for your permission, because he still always remembers to ask no matter how far deep you’re in. The agreement comes in the form of the best three words. 

"Ruin me, Seung."

You know him too well. You know how he works, you know how he thinks, and you know him better than anyone.

He groans in response to your words, his head dipping down to drag his teeth gently over your collarbone. He's trying to hang on to his control, he is, but it's a losing effort.

"I will, love." His breath is hot against your skin, his hands finding your hips. "Just give me a minute—"

He shifts, just for a moment, to find the condom in his jean pocket. He goes through the motions until he's back on top of you again, one hand coming up to grip your hip again, the other coming up to rest against your throat. He looks down at you, his eyes almost glowing. 

"You trust me?" he mutters. His hand at your hip tightens; his hand at your throat barely clenches around your pulse point, his eyes never leaving yours.

You can feel it, see it. The way the little threads are beginning to unravel and fray. The way this was no longer Seungcheol of SEVENTEEN; not the leader, not the idol. This was something different entirely, someone else completely.

"I do," you whisper back, your eyes so full of adoration for him that he has to bite back the urge to scream. "I trust you, Seungcheol."

His full name is what really does it for him, because then he's pushing in, and you’re gasping, whimpering, trying to adjust around him and the fact that you’re practically clenching him on the get-go. Seungcheol eases in, nice and slow, because you’re too tightly coiled for him to do more than carefully bottom out. You’re both heaving, your breaths coming out as gasps; your own breaths are sharp, harsh, because Seungcheol is still choking you a little. 

His head dips down to your shoulder because he needs something to hold on to, anything, while his mind spins. His head is dizzy feeling you like this, feeling you around him so tightly. He's trembling, his thighs shaking, but he's holding himself back as long as he can.

When Seungcheol gets as far in as he can possibly get, you let out twin groans. He’s completely sheathed inside of you and you’re fluttering around him in a way that’s dangerous. 

“Y’can move, Seung,” you reassure him after a moment, the words coming out strained with desire. “As fast and hard as you want.” 

You sound strangled, just like he feels, and it's taking him a mammoth amount of control to hold himself back. He groans against your shoulder at the sound of your voice, the words you say. He wants to move, to thrust, but he's trying to have some semblance of composure. 

"Love," he says, his voice wrecked. "I—"

His voice breaks. It breaks, because there is only so much he can take, and he's beyond that point now. There's a tremor in his thighs, his hands clenching in the cushion below you.

You drag him right back down, with the sound that you let out that’s halfway a whine and a sigh. One of your hands goes to rest in the space between Seungcheol’s shoulder blades, as if to steady the two of you. 

Your voice is surprisingly firm when you speak. "Let go," you command. And then, softer, "I need you."

Your words, your voice— it's in complete conflict with the situation you're currently in. And yet, it works. He lets out a sound, one that's somewhere between a growl and a whimper, his breath hot against your skin. And then he's moving and he's holding nothing back.

He's hard, brutal, and he's taking. His teeth on your shoulder; his breath against your neck; his nails digging into you.

It's a relentless, dizzying pace. Seungcheol bullies into your weeping cunt, fast and hard, and it draws out the most obscene sounds from you. Gasps, whines, an occasional scream when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. What has him seeing stars is the fact that you can't seem to settle on a name to moan. "Seung— Seungcheol— Cheol—"

Yes, you're saying, yes.

Seungcheol loses himself, utterly and completely, in you. You're on the edge, he can hear it; he can feel it, and God, he wants to hear you say his name. Every single one of them. 

It almost sounds like a mantra, your voice, as he takes and takes and takes, his breathing harsh, ragged.

You go through all of the names you have for him, breathless and wrecked, until you can't even say anything because his hips are snapping into you with a ferocity that's rare but not unwelcome. Your pornographic moans reverberate in your otherwise empty apartment, and Seungcheol thinks he might go insane. 

"'M close," you choke out. "Cheollie, baby, I'm— ah, fuck— Seung—"

His breath catches at your words, his eyes closing for a moment as he groans. You, you, in all your perfect, glorious, undone state. It’s a sight he wishes he could capture, freeze in time.

He lets out a whimper, his words almost slurred when he responds. "Love— I—"

He's never been this rough, never this intense. You're the only one, the only person he's ever let himself go like this with. The only person who he's ever let see everything, take everything.

He's on the edge, he's there, he's—

"C'mon," he whines, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand clenching hard around your hip. "With me, love, please."

It's a miracle that you can even nod, can even find your voice as Seungcheol keeps on going with his erratic, stuttering thrusts. "With you," you gasp. 

He snaps into you, then, and you arch up with a scream of his name. There’s the familiar white-hot flash of pleasure; the impossibly tight clench of your walls around him.

He stays buried in you for several long moments, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears. He has never felt so utterly spent in his entire life, never been so completely, utterly drained of energy. He's weak against you. He’s weak because of you. 

"God," he finally manages to mutter.

He lifts his head, just enough to be able to look at you, but he can't even muster a grin. He's spent and he knows you know that.

His hand comes up slightly, to brush the hair off of your forehead. "I think..." he says, his voice thick and hoarse, "I think I ruined you, love."

You let out a breathless laugh, one that you have to push out of your heaving chest. "You—" you try to say, but the words don't form, not at first. You take a few moments to take in some air, to gulp past the lump in your throat. "You're a fool."

His lips twitch into a tired but genuine smile at the sound of your laugh. It’s a soft sound that he's always thought sounds beautiful, especially coming from you.

A hoarse, broken laugh of his own escapes; his hand coming up to rest at your jawline, his thumb gently tracing over the warm skin there. He's still catching his breath, but he's slowly gathering himself.

"Am I a fool?" he asks quietly, leaning his forehead against yours. "What does that make you, then?"

You’re a fool, too, he thinks to himself. For letting me have this. 

Instead of answering him, you press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s the only answer he’s going to get from you for now, it seems. 

He lets out a soft huff, moving his head back just slightly, his eyes closing. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he says quietly, his voice still rough with fatigue.

"Every time," you respond. Your own voice is strained, almost tired, but there's a hint of amused exasperation. "You say that every time, Cheol."

His eyes opened once again to look at you.

"Because it's true," he says simply, his voice soft and sincere, the hand resting at your jaw moving to brush your hair back from your face. "It's always true, love."

He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes tracing over your face, taking in every inch of you. His eyes pause at your lips for a moment, his tongue gently wetting his own, his gaze finally moving back up to meet your eyes.

You thread your shaking fingers through the back of his hair and answer his unspoken question. "Kiss me soft and easy, Cheol," you whisper.

The moment the words leave your mouth, he's in action.

He leans forward without a second thought, the hand not buried in your hair going to rest on your hip, his lips meeting yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

There's no heat in it, no want or need. Just a soft press of his lips against yours, gentle and slow. 

It's languid and unhurried. Like there's nowhere either of you have to be after this. For a moment, you can pretend that this is normal— that Seungcheol will not have to leave, and that you’ll not have to change into new pajamas because he'd broken yours, and that you can be... well, something, anything aside from what you are now.

But it's wishful thinking, you both know, so all Seungcheol can do is kiss you. He lets out a soft sound, almost a sigh, as his tongue slides into your mouth, his hand on your hip tightening slightly. His other hand is in your hair still, his fingers gently tracing over your scalp, his body almost melting against yours.

He will have to leave. He always does. But for now, he's here, with you, and you feel perfect, and—

Five minutes, he bargains. Five more minutes.

And then things end, not really by your own accord.

The sharp, shrill sound of Seungcheol's phone ringing breaks through your haze. You pull away, a bit jolted at the foreign sound— at something other than your words, your breathing, reverberating in the room. It takes you a beat too long to realize someone is calling him— his phone in his discarded jeans— in the godawful middle of the night. 

He lets out a loud groan, the sound tired and drawn out, and he can't help but rest his forehead against your shoulder once again, letting out a resigned sigh.

"God, save me," he mutters, his voice rough. "What time is it?"

You chuckle lightly. "Go on," you urge softly, not because you want to but because you have to. "Answer."

Seungcheol lets out another loud, drawn out sigh, his shoulders slumping in obvious defeat. He reluctantly lifts his head from your shoulder with a grumble, but he can't quite stop himself from pressing a kiss to your cheek just before he shifts up and off of the couch.

Once he’s reached down to grab his phone from where it's stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, he answers without looking at the caller ID. "Yeah?"

"Hyung!"

It's Soonyoung— of course it's Soonyoung— calling.

"Are you still at the company?" the younger member asks. "I think I forgot my headset in one of the practice rooms, and Minghao said you didn't go home with them."

"It's midnight, Soonyoung." 

You shit over on the couch, careful not to make any sound. Not to give Soonyoung any suspicion that Seungcheol might be somewhere where he shouldn't be. You press a small, reassuring kiss to Seungcheol's hip as Soonyoung goes on to whine, "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's the expensive headset, hyung. If you're still there, could you check? Please?"

Seungcheol lets out a huff— a mixture of resigned affection and irritation— at the feeling of your lips against his skin. He can feel the exhaustion deep within his bones now, and all he wants to do is go back to snuggling into you for the night.

But he can't say no to Soonyoung, especially not at this time of night.

"Fine," he grumbles, letting out a huff. "Which practice room?"

You can hear the moment Soonyoung practically brightens with triumph.

"Third floor!" he says happily, and you bury your face into Seungcheol's side to keep yourself from laughing. "You're the best, hyung! I'll buy you a meal tomorrow for the trouble!"

He reaches down with the hand not holding his phone, pressing his palm to the top of your head, pushing lightly down. A warning of don't laugh. "Just be thankful I'm your hyung, kid," Seungcheol grouses.

Soonyoung ends the call soon enough, saying some things about sending Seungcheol a photo of his headset so he knows exactly which one is missing. When it's back to just the two of you again, you tilt your head up to look at Seungcheol. 

"You're really going back for it tonight?" you ask, even though you already know the answer. 

The corner of his lip twitches into a half smile at the way you look up at him. His eyes takein the sight of you— his hand on the back of your head, his fingers gently twisting strands of your hair.

"Of course I am," he sighs. "I can't say no to him, love."

You shift upward so you can sit side by side with Seungcheol. Both of you have yet to put on any clothes, but you’ve at least gathered your bearings enough to form coherent words now.

"You can't say 'no' to any of them," you tease as you press a gentle kiss to his cheek. There's an almost blinding affection in your tone as you say, "You and your goddamn boys."

Seungcheol reaches out, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you closer to him. Briefly, he presses his lips against your hair. His eyes are almost tender as he speaks.

"They're my boys," he says, his voice soft.

You let the words hang there for just a moment. It’s an admission, one that both of you have known for the longest time, but it's also a reminder. It’s the reason why you and Seungcheol can never be more than this—because he has his boys, and he would never do anything to jeopardize them.

You press your face against the column of his neck for just one more precious moment. You’ve never been selfish about Seungcheol, but there were nights when you thought about it. Just… thought about it.

The thought never wins.

"Let’s clean up, get dressed," you whisper into his skin. "So you can head to the company sooner."

He lets out a soft, almost painful exhale. He knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling; he's thought about it himself, as well. He hates having to leave you, hates having to say that he has to leave you. But his boys are his boys, and one day all this will be over, and then...

He can't think about it right now, though.

Instead, he nods, pressing a light kiss to your temple. "Yeah."

It takes about ten minutes or so for you both to gather everything together. Seungcheol still looks tired, though for different reasons now. He’s essentially traded one exhaustion for another.

As he puts on the shoes he left in your entryway, you lean against your doorway with your arms crossed over your chest. "I’ll be holding you accountable for my pajama set," you warn him. "And for tomorrow’s noise complaint."

"Yeah, yeah," he huffs, taking a step toward you. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten."

His face softens as he reaches you, his hands coming up to grab your elbows, gently pulling you closer to him. "Sorry," he says. "Again."

 "You’re not sorry, " you sigh pointedly, more out of spite than anything. It’s the truth—he’s not really that apologetic about losing control every now and then, about your neighbors knowing you’re being pulled close every so often.

When you bury your face into his chest, he lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his chin resting gently against the top of your head. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him, just like every single time before.

"You’re right," he murmurs. A quiet, affectionate admission. “Not sorry. Not even a little.”

He holds you there against him, his eyes fluttering shut as he allows himself just a few more moments before he has to leave. You both stay there, allowing yourselves that moment, until the tension in Seungcheol’s shoulders fades and your annoyance at your torn pajamas ebbs. It could’ve been five minutes, maybe less, but then Seungcheol’s phone pings with a text—surely Soonyoung asking if he’s found his headset.

You’re the one who takes the step back, putting some distance between you. "Drive safe," you tell Seungcheol. "Text me when you’re there."

Resigned. That’s the only way to describe the smile that tugs at his lips. "Yeah," he says. "I will."

True to his word, Seungcheol does indeed send you a text about an hour or so after he'd arrived at the company, informing you that he was there and had found Soonyoung’s headset.

He's still exhausted, and all he wants is to be back. Back inside of you, back with you. But he can't do any of that. At least, not right now. Not at this point.

I miss you already, is the only other thing he adds to his text.

Your text comes in only moments later, like you had been waiting by your phone. 

you're a fool. head home. take care.

A soft sigh escapes him the moment he reads your text, his eyes flickering over the words you'd typed, the harshness of it. It's another layer of protection for the both of you, but it's still not easy to read.

He's about to respond with something snarky, some light-hearted joke to tease you a bit, but he stops himself at the last moment. He knows that you're right.

He needs to head home. He needs to take care.

And he’s an absolute goddamn fool, in more ways than one. 

[littleprinces]

Day 15: Public Sex

Loosemble Hyunjin x Male Reader

Kinkvember Day 15

Happy Birthday Hyunjin!

Hyunjin, my sister, is a stunningly beautiful woman with a thick, voluptuous body that I can't get enough of. Today, I had the pleasure of running into her at the library. The library was practically empty, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and opportunity.

"Hey, Hyunjin," I said, approaching her with a confident smile. "Fancy running into you here."

She looked up from her book and smiled back. "Hey, Oppa. What brings you here?"

"Just thought I'd check out some books," I replied, trying to play it cool. "What about you?"

"Same," she said, holding up the book she was reading. "I love getting lost in a good story."

We chatted for a few more minutes, making small talk about our favorite books and authors. I couldn't help but feel a growing attraction to Hyunjin. Her curves were even more enticing than I remembered, and I couldn't wait to get her alone.

Finally, I decided to take a chance. "Hey, Hyunjin," I said, leaning in closer. "Do you want to go somewhere more private and continue this... conversation?"

She looked at me for a moment, a glint of excitement in her eye. "Sure Oppa," she said, biting her lower lip. "Lead the way."

We found a secluded corner of the library, away from prying eyes. I could feel my heart racing as I pulled Hyunjin close, our bodies pressed together in the dim light.

"I've wanted to do this for so long," I whispered in her ear, my breath hot against her skin.

"Me too," she replied, her voice husky with desire.

We started kissing, our lips meeting in a passionate embrace. Our tongues danced together as we explored each other's mouths, our hands roaming over each other's bodies.

I could feel Hyunjin's nipples harden beneath her shirt, and I couldn't wait to taste them. I broke our kiss and started kissing down her neck, making my way to her breasts. I pulled down her top and started sucking on her nipples, my tongue swirling around them as she moaned with pleasure.

"Oh, yes," she breathed, her hands gripping my hair. "Don't stop."

I continued to tease her nipples, my other hand slipping down to her pants. I started rubbing her clit through her panties, feeling her wetness seep through the fabric.

"Fuck, you're so wet," I murmured, my fingers slipping inside her panties.

"Yes, yes," she moaned, her hips bucking against my hand.

I started fingering her, my fingers sliding in and out of her pussy as she moaned louder and louder. I could feel her muscles clenching around my fingers, and I knew she was close.

"I'm going to cum," she gasped, her body shaking with pleasure.

"Cum for me, baby," I whispered, my fingers moving faster and faster.

She came hard, her juices flowing over my fingers. I pulled them out and started licking them clean, savoring the taste of her pussy.

"Fuck, that was amazing," she breathed, her body still shaking.

"I'm not done with you yet," I said, my voice low and seductive.

I stood up and pulled down my pants, my hard cock springing free. Hyunjin looked up at me, her eyes wide with desire.

"I want you to ride me," I said, my voice husky with desire.

She nodded, her eyes glazed with lust. She climbed on top of me, straddling me as she lowered herself onto my cock.

I moaned with pleasure as she started riding me, her hips moving back and forth as she bounced up and down on my cock.

"Yes, yes, yes," she moaned, her small tits bouncing with each thrust.

I reached up and started playing with her nipples, tweaking and pinching them as she rode me harder and harder.

"Fuck, you feel so good," I groaned, my hips bucking up to meet hers.

"Yes, yes, yes," she moaned, her pussy clenching around my cock.

We fucked like animals, our bodies moving together in a rhythmic dance of pleasure. I could feel myself getting close, my balls tightening as I prepared to cum.

"I'm going to cum," I gasped, my hips bucking wildly.

"Cum inside me," Hyunjin moaned, her pussy milking my cock.

I came hard, my juices filling her pussy as she moaned with pleasure. We collapsed onto the floor, our bodies spent and sated.

"That was amazing," Hyunjin breathed, her head resting on my chest.

"Yes, it was," I agreed, my hand gently stroking her hair.

We lay there for a few more minutes, our bodies still tangled together. I knew we would have to get dressed and leave soon, but for now, I was content to enjoy the moment.

As we got dressed and left the library, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction and contentment. I had finally fulfilled my fantasy of fucking my little sister, and it had been even better than I had imagined.

[baronessvonglitter]

would you ever consider writing a deeper romantic relationship for the lovely couple from Daddy can fix it??💖 it’s sooo good

I hope you didn’t think I forgot about you 💕 I was so pleased to receive your ask. From one hopeless romantic to another, I hope you enjoy!

Daddy Does Drilling

Handyman! Joel x fem!plus size!Reader

Word count: 1.3K

Summary: what happens when you and Joel blur the line between business and pleasure..

I invite everyone to also read "Daddy Can Fix It" 🩵

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is plus-size, wears apron and dress. Reader's age not mentioned so there is as much or as little of an age gap as you want. Unprotected piv (Joel is snipped). Oral (f receiving). Sarah and Ellie are mentioned but not named. Divorced Dad!Joel 🤭Slowly falling in love and not realizing it until it's too late. Mention of reader wanting a divorce from her husband. Also catty book club bitches.

"You're crazy, y'know that?" Joel whispers in your ear, his harsh whisper tickling your skin as he guides you up and down on his cock.

You grab the back of the sofa, nails digging into the soft upholstery as he plunges into your soaking wet pussy. "I had to do it," you giggle through your panting. "I couldn't stand my idiot husband doing all the work that you do better."

That earns you a slap on the ass, Joel's large hand giving it a firm grip after. "You're an insatiable lil' thing," he growls in your ear. "'Bout to wear me out."

You smirk up at the patched-up drywall, perfectly smoothed over by Joel's industrious and talented hands. Hands that are now grabbing your curves and molding your body to his. "Can you blame me? I'll never get enough of this cock!" Your sentence ends on a loud moan as he holds your hips steady and thrusts up into you hard and deep so you feel the steady brush of him up close to your cervix.

"Come on sweet thing, ya came twice already, you ready for a third?" Joel rasps in your ear. "Got my lap all fuckin' wet with this juicy pussy."

The moment he'd finished up with the wall you'd pounced on him, crushed your lips and your hips to his, delighted to find him already hard and ready. In the shortest amount of time ever, you both had shoved off and pulled aside whatever clothes were unnecessary and fucked right there on the sofa.

He's working you to your third orgasm, spoiling you, actually, holding back from his own pleasure because it's too much fun giving you yours, watching the beautiful expression on your face, the way your body shakes and trembles.

"There she is," he whispers as your sugar walls convulse around him, rhythmically squeezing his rigid cock, and that's when he lets himself explode, your pussy milking him for every drop he's got.

He's at your house every week, then twice a week, three times a week, until he's just there to fuck you and make you scream his name. No fixing of anything required.

Neither of you notices when things take a turn towards the soft, the sweet. He spends hours between your thighs, tasting and teasing you until you come multiple times, not just trying to get you off but trying to know you. Your time together is marked not by the quick, productive thrusts in positions you haven't tried since college, but in the lingering kisses and knowing stares, the confessions that spill from your lips, the honesty that is born of such intimacy as you've shared.

You find out that he's divorced, has two grown daughters, one married and the other away at university. He loves to work with his hands, that he has a natural knack for figuring out a solution to every problem, and persists until said problem is fixed. That's how he started his company.. and one day the ladies just started coming onto him.

Being older and single, he didn't let those chances pass him. The women he helped were lonely like himself, and if he could give them a bit of something to keep them happy even for a moment, he was glad to do it. It became a well-known secret among the housewives of the community of Royal Hill that he would provide good service at a decent price and give you the fucking of a lifetime if you asked politely.

He liked women, found their husbands to be idiots, more often than not. White collar limp dicks who think a G-spot is street slang for money. Some of them he got to know well: Amirah with the flawless umber skin and always smelled of jasmine; Isabelle who tip-tapped around her tiled home in impossibly high heels with ostentatious feathers on the straps and wore hardly anything under her sheer hot pink robe, also bedecked in feathers; Becky who was quite demanding and rude but submissive once she had a dick inside her.

Then came you. And you threw him for a loop.

You were more than you appeared: sweet, shy, pretty. Once he got you in bed you were a goddess, and the amazing thing was you already knew you were. You gave without asking anything in return.. but how could he ever deny you his strong hands, eager mouth, throbbing cock?

No one else had struck this feeling within him, no matter how many lonely housewives he visited, no matter how hard or rough or passionately he'd fucked any of them, they were just fun. Side quests, as his gamer brother would say.

He liked getting to know you, finding out who was the woman underneath the apron and the rosebud-patterned dress. You told him secrets no one else knew, and he found himself doing the same. You would call each other just to talk, to hear each other's voices when you couldn't be close.

What you didn't know was the impact it would have on the other housewives.

"He doesn't even come over himself anymore. His brother Tommy came by to fix the sink instead."

"Don't get me wrong.. Tommy's cute, but I wanted Joel."

"Daddy Joel."

You ignore the little group that's once again near the dessert table. You grab a couple of cucumber sandwiches and a chocolate-dipped madeleine, oblivious to their prattle.

"I don't know," Becky says pointedly. "His truck has been seen outside a certain someone's house a few days a week." She stops you before you can go back to your seat. "With the amount of time Joel's been at your home, you ought to have the most restored, revamped, upgraded home on the block," she says, brimming over with restrained attitude.

"What's going on?" she asks under her breath.

You can see the others are waiting for you to answer her, but for the first time ever you feel absolutely no need to appease them. You need to win them over like you need a hole in your head. "I don't know what you're talking about," you tell them, lying with ease.

"It's not nice to take up all his time," Becky says with an icy tone, staring you down as if looks could kill.

"Becky, is it just me, or are you jealous over a man you have to pay to fuck you?"

The others are stunned. No one has ever put Bitchy Becky in her place before. Not even she knows what to say.

"I think I'm done with this book club. I can read on my own at my house.. waiting on Daddy to fix whatever I need him to." With an angelic smile you drop the plate of treats back onto the table as you leave.

Walking out into the late afternoon sun you feel more free than you ever have before, as if a whole new chapter has started. The short walk to your house is pleasant, even more so when you see Joel's work truck in your driveway.

"Thought I missed ya," he says, his hands in his pockets as he walks from your front door.

"Fridays are for the book club," you explain, heart racing as you come close to him, and his arms go naturally around your waist. "But I quit. Can't really stand those snobby bitches."

You inhale the clean cotton scent of his red flannel, nuzzling your nose in his shoulder as he kisses the side of your head. "I don't want to do anything ever again that doesn't make me happy."

"So, lil' thing, what's gonna make ya happy right now?" he asks, a small grin playing across his lips.

Looking up at him, you realize Joel is the best choice you could have made. "I think I'm going to leave my husband. No.. I'm definitely going to leave my husband. But there's something else I want right now.."

"Good idea." His arms tighten slightly around you, as if to tether you to him. "And what would that be?"

"I want you to come inside.. you've got some drilling to do," you lead him by the hand and into your home.

dividers by @saradika 👑

[66stitches]

abby anderson request !! :)

i wanted something where abby is starting to doubt her sexuality and trusts reader to ask questions and just talk about it (reader is a lesbian and they're close friends, it can end up with them kissing — or more, if you're comfortable)

cw: sfw, kissing (a lot of it), descriptions of masturbation (abby), talk of sexuality and questioning sexuality, no physical description of reader

Daily click - Palestine masterpost - TLOU and israel

a/n: thank you for the req !! I don’t write full on smut unfortunately (though I might write some short stuff in the future), but I tried to write a few kinda sexual scenes here and there

wc: idk prob like 1k

divider creds

Abby loved Owen, truly. She was attracted to him: that is what she kept convincing herself of everyday.

Every moment with Owen was a new lie she fed herself.

He was the man she loved. There was nothing she doubted in her relationship with him. The absence of love’s warmth meant to fill her body was her own fault; her inability to reach climax when they had sex was a problem for which only she was to blame.

It doesn’t mean she never tried, though. Abby had spent nights attempting to pleasure herself to the thought of Owen: the only person she should be thinking of; the only person supposed to be capable of reaching her to her climax.

And yet, all she felt was nothing. She laid in her bed, carnal and romantical dissatisfaction utterly consuming her. She was convinced that she was simply incapable of experiencing any sort of attraction exceeding platonicity.

But it only grew more confusing from there.

In another one of her inevitably futile attempts of bringing herself to climax to the thought of Owen, she felt her mind begin to drift to another thought that would hopefully bring her to that much desired release.

She didn’t intend for it to, but the man was just not doing it for her.

That night, she thought of a woman.

That night, she came so hard she swore she could see stars.

A specific woman she thought of in particular, but she would never admit who it was that finally relieved that ache. Not even in the confines of her own thoughts.

And so here she found herself, seated on the soft cushion of your worn-out couch.

You were Abby’s sole friend who was openly lesbian. Abby had seen you bring women over numerous times before. She had listened to your rants about your sexual and romantic encounters with women.

She even helped set you up with one, which harbored a slight odd feeling in the pit of her stomach for a reason she couldn’t quite decipher.

She had thought of it many times: what it was like being with a woman. She didn’t really know what to make of those thoughts. Whether it was mere curiosity, or perhaps something more.

And now here she sat next to you, trying to find the confidence to speak.

She never found it hard to confide in you. Of course not, you were her dearest friend. But this dilemma of hers was difficult to merely utter aloud, even if it is only to herself.

You were on your phone when Abby spoke.

“So… you’re gay,” she started, and she wanted to strike herself as soon as the words left her mouth, because of course you were gay. What kind of opening is that?

“Good observation?” You chuckled, bemused. You placed your phone down, curious as to where she was going with this.

“What’s it like? You know, being with a woman,” she asked, already regretting bringing it up, but she just needed some certainty.

Your eyebrows twisted in confusion at the inquiry. You and Abby were comfortable enough to share anything with each other. Nothing was considered too much information or too uncomfortable to talk about.

It was just an odd question coming from Abby, who you thought was so sure of her sexuality.

“I guess it’s like how it feels for you being with a man.”

God, she hoped not.

“Why?” You asked.

“Just curious, that’s all. Wanna understand your sexuality more, educate myself,” she spoke rather timidly.

You laughed softly. “Oh, because you’re so woke, right?”

Abby could tell you didn’t believe her. In all fairness, she didn’t really put much effort into trying to sound the least bit credible.

She didn’t even know why she was lying to you right now. She trusted you, she always has. This was just a difficult truth to face.

“I don’t know. I’m just feeling a little confused, I guess,” she confessed, shrugging.

“About your sexuality?” Your voice was slow, but your heart beat quicker than ever before.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find Abby attractive. You’ve always had a little childish crush on the blonde, but you constantly found yourself trying to shove your feelings aside, somewhere far away so it could no longer reach to gnaw at your heart.

But now this — this made it all different. You might be getting slightly ahead of yourself, but you can’t help but think that now you might have the smallest chance with her.

“I don’t know— I mean, yeah, I guess,” she said as she fiddled with the seams of her shirt. “Owen’s just never really made me feel… well, anything. Anything you’re supposed to feel with a partner, I don’t feel it. I thought maybe the problem was Owen specifically, but I’ve come to realize that it’s not.”

“But women get you going?”

“I think so,” she admitted, finally. “I tried to think about a woman last night, while, you know…” she trailed off, her skin suddenly feeling very hot at the confession.

“And?” You whispered, feeling just as hot at her confession. “Was it just what you were missing?”

Abby went quiet for a moment, then she answered. “Yeah, it was.”

It was silent. Abby still looked like she had something to say, so you offered no response for a moment.

“But how could I know? I’ve never tried anything romantic or sexual with another woman, so how would I be able to tell? I could just be confused,” she said.

You were quiet, contemplating your next words. What you were about to do could either ruin your friendship, or elevate it to something more. You were relying on the latter.

“You wanna try?” You asked. Your voice sounded bold, but everything within you was shaking with apprehension.

She offered naught but an incredulous look. Her eyes were blown wide, disbelieving.

“What?”

Well, shit.

“I mean, solely for experimental purposes, of course. A kiss shared with another woman, just to be certain,” you explained.

The tension was thick, almost palpable. You were nervous at Abby’s silence and you realized that this is where your boldness gets you.

You were ready for her harsh rejection and the revulsion that would surely be evident in her voice, but then she spoke.

“Okay,” she said. Not a hint of revulsion in her tone. You didn’t know it, but her heart beat just as quick as yours.

“Really?” You asked, surprised as if you hadn’t been the one to offer.

“Well, yeah,” she leaned in slightly, bringing her face closer to yours. “Just for experimental purposes, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” you breathed. You brought your face to hers, and in a split second you closed the gap between you, meeting each other in a slow kiss, your eyes fluttering shut.

Her lips were soft. Her kiss felt nervous, lacking confidence, yet it still exceeded every expectation.

You pulled away once you felt it was enough. You looked at her and waited for what she had to say.

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely gay,” she said and pushed your face right back into hers, meeting your lips in a much more heated kiss.

This kiss, however, held the confidence the previous one lacked, her lips moving skillfully against yours. You waited for the shock to wear off before kissing her back, clearly not expecting her to want more.

You disconnected your lips once again, pulling her face away from yours. “Abby—”

“Just need-” she interrupted her own words to press another swift peck to your lips. “A little more-” another kiss. “Just to make sure,” she said, finally and pulled you in for another kiss. She cupped your burning cheeks with her palms and slipped her tongue into your mouth.

What was supposed to be an innocent kiss, solely for the sake of experiment (how the thought made you laugh now), turned into her exploring your mouth with her tongue and pushing her body against yours. This kiss held no place for innocence now.

She softly moaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating throughout your body.

She used her thumb to lightly caress your cheek as she kissed you like her life depended on it. She slightly pulled apart then, nibbling on your bottom lip with her teeth.

As the kiss came to an end, you sat staring at each other, breathless, and oh so blissful.

“You wanna know something?” Abby asked with a dumb smile on her face which brought another smile upon your own. You hummed.

“It was you,” she started, still faintly breathless. “You were who I thought of.”

Your eyebrows rose at the confession. It was unexpected, but certainly not disliked.

What you were more surprised at, though, was how casually she said it, seemingly too blissed out at the moment for any feeling of embarrassment.

“You telling me I was your gay awakening?” You asked, grinning.

“You could say that.” She shrugged and scratched at the back of her neck.

You laughed and scooted closer to her. “Well, I guess I’m honored then,” you said.

“Alright,” she rolled her eyes and laughed. She leaned in then, craving more of your taste.

You giggled into the kiss and pulled away, licking your lips to savor her intoxicating taste.

“I think we’ve already come to the conclusion that you’re gay. You still want more?”

She brought her face closer again and caressed your cheeks. She was close enough that you could feel her breath against your lips.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Now shut up and let me kiss you.”

[piastrisun]

unexpected confession.

pairings: lando norris + fem reader.

summary: as the elevator stalls, so does your composure. lando’s sudden, earnest words turn the trapped moment into a delicate dance between panic and possibility.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 1k.⠀ warning: none.

notes: lando’s birthday!!! a bit short but i hope y’all like it. <3 no use of y/n or any names at all.

you and lando are standing in the elevator, the air uncomfortably still, and the space around you both feels too small. the elevator’s hum seems louder now, echoing in the confined space. the flickering light above does little to calm the rising tension between you two, as your body instinctively shifts to press against the corner.

you’ve never thought much about how close you are to each other—how every small movement feels amplified in this moment. it's as if your very proximity makes the silence heavier. your mind races, trying to distract itself from the fact that you're alone in an elevator, stuck for what feels like forever. it should be mundane, but with lando here, everything suddenly feels too intense.

and then, he breaks the stillness, his voice barely above a whisper but loud enough to shake you out of your thoughts. "i don’t want to die without telling you this."

your heart skips a beat, and a chill runs down your spine. the sudden panic floods you, and you whip your head to face him, your eyes wide, your breath catching in your throat. “what?! what are you talking about? are we—are we dying?”

his face goes pale as he stammers, looking more flustered than you've ever seen him. his hands hover over the elevator buttons as though he can fix the situation with the press of a few keys. “no! no, of course not… well, i mean, i don’t think so. but listen, it’s important.” he avoids your gaze, the nervous energy practically crackling between you.

you let out a shaky, almost panicked laugh, trying to control the rapid beat of your heart. “lando, this is not the time for dramatic confessions! you’re freaking me out!”

he shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes dart around the elevator. you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together, his body stiff with the weight of whatever he's about to say. “i love you. i always have. and i’m sorry for not saying it sooner.”

you freeze, your body going rigid. the words land with such weight that you can’t process them fast enough. your jaw falls open, and your mouth feels dry as you blink a few times, as if trying to clear the fog in your brain. "wait, what? you love me? you’ve… always loved me?" you can’t quite wrap your mind around it, your voice coming out in a whisper, disbelief taking over. your hands tremble, and your heart is pounding so hard you swear he can hear it. "are you—are you serious right now? do you think we’re going to die in this elevator?"

“no! no, i don’t think we’re dying! i mean, not right now.” lando sighs dramatically, dropping his shoulders in exasperation as he leans back against the elevator wall, seemingly giving up on fixing anything. “but… look, i just needed to say it, okay? i didn’t want to leave with it unsaid. so, if we do die, well… at least you know.”

his words hang in the air like a strange confession, one that doesn't quite make sense given the circumstances. but even then, a knot of warmth stirs in your chest, a strange mix of emotions you’re not ready to confront.

you step back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as if trying to shield yourself from what’s happening. you narrow your eyes at him, your lips curling into a teasing frown. “so, this is your plan? we get stuck in an elevator for five minutes and suddenly you’ve decided to unload your feelings?”

he groans, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. he slumps against the wall, letting out a breath like he's trying to deflate from the awkwardness. “this wasn’t exactly the moment i planned, okay? but i’ve been holding it in for years, and if you do kill me with that glare, at least i’ll go knowing i said it.”

you bite back a smile, your eyes narrowing in mock judgment. you raise an eyebrow as you lean toward him. “glare? i’m just trying to process this. you’ve have fancied me all this time, and you never said anything?”

his shoulders tense, and he rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze as if searching for some way to escape. “i wasn’t sure if you felt the same. i thought maybe you’d think i was, i don’t know, creepy or something.” his voice cracks slightly, a nervous chuckle escaping him. he looks down at his shoes, his embarrassment clear. “but now here we are. stuck in this tiny box together, one awkward cough away from the end of our lives…”

you can’t help but laugh, the sound light and a little shaky as you step forward, your lips curling into a playful smirk. “well, lucky for you, i don’t think you’re creepy. and maybe… just maybe… i’ve had a few feelings too.”

his eyes widen, his mouth slightly agape, disbelief written all over his face. his voice falters for a moment, but it’s full of hope. “wait, what?!”

you laugh softly, the playful edge to your voice not masking the sudden warmth in your chest. "you think i’m just going to throw myself at you after you drop that bomb? i’m not that easy, lando."

his eyes light up, his expression shifting from surprise to sheer delight. he takes a step closer, his grin impossibly wide as he leans in, his voice filled with teasing excitement. “oh, really? because if we do get stuck here a little longer, i can think of a few ways to pass the time…” his gaze flickers down to your lips before meeting your eyes again, mischievous and full of playful challenge.

you roll your eyes dramatically, trying to maintain some semblance of control over your emotions, but the smile you can’t hide betrays you. "you’re unbelievable."

lando shrugs, his grin growing even wider as he leans back, arms crossing in mock defense. his eyes dance with a mix of humor and genuine affection. "i do try."

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

[sahisan]

smth about chuuya coming in his pants after being sex deprived for weeks/months is just.... ugh. nsfw obv. fem reader probs? pm member reader. kinda pathetic chuu but we love him for that. touch deprived chuu?

chuuya is a busy man. it's public knowledge—he actually manages to run the port mafia's jewelry department just perfectly starting from the age of 16 and do splendidly on solo missions, along with carrying out orders from the boss and giving orders of his own.

both of you being busy means you don't really get to see each other often, especially if you both work in the mafia. overseas missions that sometimes take more than several months to complete, nights spent in the headquarters with headaches because of the constantly incoming paperwork etcetera etcetera.

it's a lot. and it's a lot more when chuuya actually needs you. he wants so much to feel something, be it your mouth or you clenching down on him or just your hand getting him off and fuck, does he imagine it being your hand when he jerks himself off once in a while when it gets really impossible.

so once the two of you finally have some time off that you can spend at home—usually he does have a day or two off after particularly hard or long missions, just to get over the jet lag and get all the necessary paperwork prepared—chuuya doesn't necessarily pounce on you immediately after closing the front door, no. he's tired and you're tired no matter the need going through him in these moments.

he gets you both some fancy take-out, soaks his aching muscles in the bath for some time, maybe even sets up a movie or something like that on the tv so that you two can snuggle up against each other on the sofa under some blankets, and it's really not long before you're on top of him and he looks at you with this already needy and basically pleading look which screams "i missed you so much i can't hold myself back anymore please just do anything" and "please do whatever you want with me" when you just got your hands on him, your core sitting right on top of the tightness in his pants.

and it's so fucking humiliating to chuuya too, because, god, he can handle himself perfectly well without sex and he knows it, but once you're near him after some weeks/months away he's already just so painfully hard without even thinking much.

it's even worse when he ends up coming in his pants from barely a few deep kisses and grinding against you. he tries to resist it, tries grabbing onto your forearm and squeezing the hell out of a handful of your ass with another hand, but it's just inevitable when he's been so deprived of you and starved for even smallest bits of touch—not even sex, touch. chuuya swears he sees white behind his closed eyelids as he comes, and he full on moans into your mouth once he feels that his underwear is all sticky, and his breathing refuses to get back to normal for a good few minutes along with his racing heart.

he ends up laughing breathlessly once the kiss is broken, throwing his head back with his chest still rising and falling rather quickly, mumbling something about feeling like a goddamn teenager that just hit puberty and could come in his pants just from some grinding.

he's also very sensitive after his first orgasm, but that's for you to find out only once you grind down on him one more time after a few moments, kind of experimentally, and hear chuuya whine and shudder with his breath hitching and his hand coming to just plant your hips down in one place and hold them there. he already embarrassed himself enough.

or did he?

[nepenthendline]

a/n: todoroki feeling horny for the first time, no smut but can do a pt 2?

Todoroki had been much clingier than usual today, like a cat somehow always slinking his was close to you. Most of your day was spent cuddling on his couch watching documentaries, and his grip on you was tight. Whenever you shuffled or got up to grab a drink or snack, you could see the little pout on his lips as he held his arms out to you and asked where you were going. He was so cute like this, but it was a little different than usual.

"You ok, baby?" You ask, cupping his cheeks in your hands once you settled back into his arms. He pondered for a moment,

'Yes, I think, but I feel a little...off,' his response was quiet, and his fingers continued to brush over your waist. Your head tilted slightly, looking over him for any obvious signs of pain or sickness,

"In what way?" His eyes looked off to the side - you could almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he tried to put his feelings into words.

"I feel... warmer than usual, my muscles feel tense, sometimes it feels like I'm struggling to breathe, and there's a...weird feeling in my stomach. Perhaps I'm getting sick," you let put an exaggerated pout as you combed your fingers through his hair before kissing his forehead - he did feel quite warm, but there was no fever.

"My poor baby," you stroked his cheeks in urge to comfort him, however, his face tensed under your touch, and he let out a hum.

"That..." he muttered, more to himself than to you. He brought one hand to his chin in thought, " I thought resting today with you would help my symptoms, but they seem to be getting worse," your brows furrowed at his words, but your urged him to continue. "Well, worse, but also better. The symptoms are stronger, but having you close makes me feel relieved in a way." You couldn't help but smile. Even whilst sick, he was still adorable. What he said next, however, surprised you.

"Feel like...I need you, even though you're already here. Feels like you're not close enough,' he murmured into his hand, still looking away.

Oh-OH. You started giggling in response - the two of you had been together for a few months, but you knew Shoto hadn't had any relationships before you. In fact, he often reminded you that you were the first person to ever make him feel the way he does.

His eyes darted back to you with confusion taking over his face. "Have you felt like this before?" You question with a grin. His eyes wavered, before nodding.

"Yes, although the symptoms weren't as strong as now. Like when you were cooking the other day in those cute pajamas, or on our date last week, and when you kiss me," he was clueless. He thought he was sick and yet every memory included you. Your giggles continued.

"Yeah? Well, I can tell you that you're not sick," his eyes widened slightly, nodding for you to continue, "you're horny, my love." He let out a quiet ah and sat in silence for a moment before speaking up.

"Like Mineta..." his deapan voice made you cackle, even though you knew he was trying to gauge his feelings by comparing them to something else. "Except, I only feel like this with you," your cheeks warmed at his words. He's always been a charmer, mostly by accident. He speaks what is on his mind so bluntly, and yet it never ceases to fluster you. You lean forward and press a soft kiss on his lips.

"I can make you feel better if you'd like?" His eyes burned into yours as he rested his forehead against yours. After a few moments, he spoke,

"Yes, please."

[malereadermaniac]

Totally non-toxic behaviour ~ Ex!Dabi x Male Reader

Reader who's just a smidge toxic towards his ex - but it's like fine! m!reader (no genitalia mentioned) / FDNI Word count: 884

Dabi asking for his hoodies that he'd left with you back, only for you to try every trick in the book to make him think about you~

For one of the jaded man's sweatshirts, you decided to sleep in it for a week and spray your signature perfume on it. The second Dabi grabbed the black top from you, he took it to his nose and immediately gave you a chilling stare; he didn't voice any complaints though, just gave a brief 'thanks' and left. What you don't know is that the scarred man huffed on that thing all the way back to his place, and didn't wash it for literal weeks; he would just smell it whenever he felt that empty feeling in his chest which you used to fill for him.

When Dabi texted you about another hoodie of his, he did mention that "You coulda washed it before giving it back" - guessing that your smell made him miss you a bit too hard... So that time, of course you had the decency to wash the damn thing..... it was just that you'd accidentally spilt some of your body wash in with your fabric softener; so not only did your ex's hoodie smell like your clothes, but also you.

Another time, you decided to try make the cold man jealous by handing him the wrong clothing and saying "oops... not yours?". That one really set him off. In the moment, Dabi laughed it off and went and found the pair of sweats he was actually looking for, but GOD DAMN did this man go crazy on his way home. We're talking talking to himself in the car, extreme road rage for absolutely no real reason, and conducting a deep social media stalk on you to try n find out who's fucking sweats you tried to give him!

Your break-up wasn't exactly civil, but you and Dabi both agreed that you needed to end things or you two would just keep being bad for each other. Don't get it twisted, when it was good, it was incredible - you and Dabi were seemed like the perfect boyfriends, just simply in love. The taller man would always pamper you and was like a puppy around you (with an attitude but he'd listen to you nonetheless). Dabi was happier than ever when he was around you, you filled that hole in his chest, you were the missing piece to him. It's just that Dabi would get insanely possessive over you because you meant so incredibly much towards him - and we're talking not being allowed to go out with friends without him, literally getting into fights with other guys who were close with you and much, much more. And you yourself weren't innocent either! You would flirt with people to get attention from Dabi if he had been more frigid that day, and you were partial to a little guilt tripping if it meant getting what you wanted... But breaking up because of the bad definitely didn't negate the good - so you two are stuck being apart, whilst still being fucking in love with each other!

Dabi still having notifications on for whenever you post a story, because he was so down bad for you that he wanted to always be the first to see you stories (and sometimes approve them....). But his already cold blood runs colder when he sees that you've posted a selfie with some muscular, tatted arm around your shoulders as you lay your head on whoever this guy is. Dabi must've rewatched that single story of your at least fifty times, just staring, internally screaming, trying to figure out whose FUCKING ARM THAT IS. And of course, it's just you trying to make the man jealous (and it working). Good thing your friend from childhood was visiting, cause he made the perfect fake soft-launch!

Light stalking is another one of your tactics when trying to occupy Dabi's thoughts (and succeeding). It's never anything crazy! Just showing up at parties he's at and making sure that he notices you - which is usually done by openly flirting with guys at said party. Sometimes, if you're bold (and drunk) enough, you will just straight up flirt with Dabi's friends - never if he's with them in that moment, but always when he will notice. And it works like a CHARM! It does help that all of Dabi's friends find you hot as fuck, they're willing to risk getting their heads burnt off if it means getting to hit it from the back yk! They always start off with a coy "Dabi wouldn't be very happy to see me talkin' 'ta you" but they never mean it. And holy shit is it a sight from horny heaven to see Dabi walk over to you once he notices you antics; his taller, muscular frame looming over you and whoever your flirting with, his arms folded to show off his muscles even more, his eyes narrow and burning a hole into your own. Whenever you push enough of his buttons, Dabi will almost always fold, and he's not proud of it! The man just can't help it, he knows it's bad but he just loves waking up in your bed the next morning~

[daisymbin]

what are we? - choi seungcheol

warnings: a cocky slightly obnoxious cheol

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: friends to???

wc: 1.1k

check out my masterlist!

“what are we, sweetheart?” seungcheol asked, a smug smirk ghosting over his face. his voice was casual, but the look in his eyes made your breath catch. it was the kind of playful cocky question he always asked, but something about this time felt different.

“what?” your confusion was evident, with an edge of irritation. your cheeks already starting to heat up now that you have his full attention.

seungcheol leaned back in his chair, tipping it slightly as he studied you. “you keep staring at me like that,” he said, teasing but with a hint of curiosity. “you into me or something?” he prods further, “you’re really not going to say anything?” his raised right eyebrow now joins his smirk, his voice dripping with playful challenge, like he was daring you to admit something.

your heart skipped a beat, but you forced a nervous laugh, hoping it would break the tension. “i wasn’t staring,” you insisted, averting your gaze quickly. “stop being so obnoxious.”

seungcheol let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward just enough so his face was closer to yours than it should’ve been; just inches away. “oh, come on. you know i can see right through you,” he teased, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk of his. “what’s with that look, hmm? don’t tell me you’re actually going shy on me now?”

the olympics marathon is currently being held in your head. they're racing, you're racing. YOUR HEART IS RACING. you scramble for a way out of this conversation, but you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened at his closeness. “i’m not shy,” you mumbled, though your voice gave you away. “you just… say stupid things sometimes.”

seungcheol’s smirk only deepened, and the way his eyes glinted with mischief made your chest tighten. “stupid things?” he repeated, as though he was savoring the words. “so me asking what we are is stupid, huh?”

you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest. “yeah,” you said a little too defensively. “obviously we’re nothing but friends. you’re just an annoying, flirty friend. it’s nothing serious.”

his expression faltered, the cocky grin slipping for a second before his cocky mask quickly returned, a subtle shift in his demeanor. “so, you think i’m just messing around?” he asked, his voice still playful, but now it had a slight edge to it. something deeper, something almost serious beneath the surface.

“yeah,” you repeated, your voice quieter now, unsure. “you’re always joking, cheol. nothing's ever serious with you.”

he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded you. for a moment, everything went still. the usual playful banter was gone, replaced with something much heavier, much more charged. “is that what you think?” he asked, his voice softer, quieter than you’d expected, like he was genuinely hurt by your words.

seungcheol sighed, his usual cocky mask slipping completely as he watched you. “i don’t joke when i say i want you,” he said quietly, his voice sincere in a way you’d never heard before. “i don’t joke when i say you mean something to me.”

you blink once, and then twice. then, before his words fully registered in your head, he continues, “& I definitely wasn't joking when I said I like you.”

his words hang in the air, each one going off like fireworks in your head.

he tilted his head slightly, his eyes softening as they locked onto yours, almost searching for something in your expression. “i’m not always joking, you know,” he added, his voice even quieter now, as if he was afraid of what you might say next.

your chest tightened painfully. his words felt like a weight—heavy, real, undeniable.

“i can't tell if you're being serious-” you whispered, your heart racing as the words tumbled out before you could stop them; but seungcheol did.

seungcheol kept his eyes on you, his gaze unwavering, steady, affirming. “i'm not fucking with you, princess. I mean, unless?” he asked as he wiggled his eyebrows.

this time, you roll your eyes and you hit him on his chest lightly, “can you be serious for once?”

“alright, alright, i was joking about the fucking- but also not, well not the one before. you get what I mean.” he said hastily, a shit-eating grin adorning his handsome face.

seungcheol slowly reached for your hand, and when his fingers brushed against yours, the electricity between you both felt undeniable. “i mean it,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest. “i really do like you. a lot.”

you tried to find the familiar cocky, playful glint that his orbs always wear, but it was replaced with something deeper. something more vulnerable. you were still reeling from everything he had just said, trying to process it all.

“so tell me now, what are we, really?” his fingers lingered over yours, and he gave you a small, genuine smile. “i believe i already told you a long time ago how i feel about you, though, I wish you would have taken me seriously back then.” he repeated, his voice gentle. “so what do you say? because if it were up to me, we’d be something more. but it’s up to you, too.”

your heart thudded in your chest, and you found yourself leaning into his touch without thinking. the hope in his eyes, the vulnerability behind his usual cocky demeanor—it was enough to leave you speechless. but this time, you knew he wasn’t joking. he was waiting for your answer.

you don't say anything, not verbally at least. you take in a shaky breath, you let yourself smile back at him, your fingers curling to hold his.

seungcheol's eyes lit up at this, and he grinned, the smugness returning in a way that made your heart feel light. “finally,” he teased, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “i thought i was going to have to flirt with you forever to get you to see it.”

you laughed, the tension melting away, and this time, it felt different. it felt real. “well great, you can stop flirting now.” you say, relieved.

“oh, absolutely not,” seungcheol replied, his smile warm and genuine. “because now, you know I mean it & i know you’ll take me seriously.”

and as he leaned in closer, your laughter was swallowed by the way his eyes sparkled with something you’d been waiting to see all along: the promise that maybe everything he’d said before had been leading to this moment.

[softringing]

The thing that's so off putting about Sampo is that he's willing to go really far to make others happy, even at the cost of becoming a punching bag. But at the same time, he's been warning us about himself purposely, masked fools and the dangers of becoming too selfish when it comes to elation.

It's obvious he wouldnt harm ordinary people in a serious way but at the same time, we don't know if he's actual hiding evil intentions.

Remember that sampo has dead snake imagery in his design, and usually, snake imagery isn't used on moral characters, it's used on evil, morally grey or manipulative characters.

It's telling you not to trust people who hide things easily behind a disguise but at the same time, Sampo has a "line he won't cross".

He's so paradoxical that it's actually hard to tell what his motive is. I feel like he might have split personalities because of his mask's influence or just him as a very odd and mysterious character.

I went though the trashcan lore (I feel stupid) BC in his event, after you sell items it gives you these random texts and one of them has "Diagonese's Utopia" achievement that you get from searching belebogian trashcans.

I posted this on twitter and my theory revolved around the fact that Sampo's mentality may not be the same as a normal human's.

I always felt that his odd behaviour of acting like a "fool" was genuis. Because the best way to fool someone is to make them believe that YOU ARE the fool. They won't doubt you because in their eyes you're less intelligent or less complex than them.

But when I dug deeper, I realised that Sampo actually ENJOYS being hated. This is where my search through the Belebog trashcans apply.

(some of these are out of order sorry 😔)

I initially thought Sampo was Tatalov, the Garbage King because of Sparkle's portrayal of him in the dream bubble. And as you can see in the above images where there's a story of a trashcan being stabbed by someone they raised (Tatalov/Garbage King), you can link it back to the fact that Sampo MAY have betrayed someone he once loved. "The moment of betrayal" also closely aligns with this!!

"Wind of change" "snake", these elements are all mentioned in the above story of Tatalov stabbing someone--> sampo's wind is element, he has snake imagery!! Should be straight enough to say HE IS TATALOV RIGHT?

Now listen closely, in the DREAM BUBBLE, Shentana (aka Natasha) talked about how Tatalov was once a great ruler who cared about equality and justice (sampo behaviour) but was blinded by "the thing beyond the sky" (stelleron). => Now it's making a reference to cocolia rather than SAMPO. Which DOES NOT ALIGN WITH SAMPO BEING TATALOV/GARBAGE KING and hence the "backstabbing " story gets muddled and confusing.

My theory was that Sampo killed the person that made him (Seppo Illmarinen) according to the Kalevala story, after he realised that no one truly LOVED him for who he is, but rather only his ability to bring wealth and fortune. Hence, he felt vengeful, and decided to kill Illmarinen as a revenge because of how others saw him as an object (maybe including Illmarinen too). But in that story, it's mentioned Tatalov said "you will collapse beside me" to the dying trashcan (Seppo).

That's when I went back and looked at "Garboski" (Koski) from Sparkle's dream bubble. Garboski mentions that Tatalov betrayed them, and sealed them for 10,000 years. Garboski also mentions that he will reward the people who found them with WEALTH (sampo's function in Kalevala) and then he decided to eventually give anyone who found them a painless death. You can clearly see over time that Garboski's mentality went lose. I tried to link Garboski's story of being sealed for 10k years to Tatalov's betrayal but it said 15 years since the dying trashcan hadn't seen their face. That's when everything got far too confusing for me to comprehend and link together but the only thing I was able to TAKE from these stories is that they are both about BETRAYAL.

The consumable above depicts a colorless rose. You can only see it's reds in the reflection on the dagger. Which led me to think-> Sampo's eidolon "the deeper the love the stronger the hate" might refer to the fact that he despises being loved by others because he had lost trust a long time ago from the events that happened to him, how he was betrayed by the people he thought loved him but turned out to be just to use him for their convenience and selfish desires.

Remember that red roses represent passionate love and that Firefly mentions Sampo looks like he'd been training to use daggers all his life. So the symbolism of that consumable might be that Sampo trusts people's hatred more than their love because when you hate something, the hatred is (mostly) sincere. Why would you pretend to hate something you love? Sampo ENJOYS this sincerity.

He hates love because you can always hide things behind it under selfish pretense. Why else would that consumable reflect a red rose 🌹 ONLY on the dagger and not the rest of it? Because as soon as Sampo was betrayed/betrayed someone, it became clear to him/them that their true emotions towards him are HATRED not love. And SAMPO LIKES THAT!! HE LIKES BEING THE FOOL, HE LIKES BEING DESPISED BECAUSE YOU CAN'T DECEIVE HIM AND HURT HIM WITH LOVE.

He uses roses to decorate his packages in the event, also his suitcase and he uses roses to attack in HI3.

He hates love because the more someone loves him the further he will doubt them.

And that's pretty MESSES UP! To have a mentality like this means he you must've gone through some messed up crap, just like how he mentions at the end of his event that he had a "Hot-blooded past". If you didn't know, "hot blooded" usually means feeling complex emotions all at once, like anger, love, hatred, doubt, pain.

The description of the consumable sounds so warm in the begging and suddenly shifts to a tense mood? Did you notice that? It's so paradoxical. So hot-blooded. And it says "that person" so speficially!!

I'm still not sure what to believe about sampo's past, but I'm sure that his idea of love is completely messed up. In HI3, as you fight him during his boss battle, there's a bar called "depth of love", which is UHH WHAT THE HECK?? IT TELLS YOUTHE MORE YOU HURT HIM THE MORE HE LOVES YOU.

In his beta lines that were removed Sampo says something along the lines "Sampo gives all the affection yet never receives anything in return *sigh* but I'm used to it anyway 😃👍"

Ummm?? OKK?? IM SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE HE IS SANE? HE IS MENTALLY STABLE AND UR TYPYCAL CONMAN? NO WAY IM NOT!!

I hope this theory makes sense. I just need everyone to know this man has some screws lose but I love him anyway!

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

I'm wild about this fic!! The tension, the angst, the way I want to bite her!! (Or have her bite me, I'm not picky) I'm actually so down bad for Jay Todd and OP is feeding us sooo well with this fic! I talk about my fav parts below the cut:

It's her eyes you recognize first, oddly enough, through her cracked helmet. You shouldn't recognize her at all, with how everything about her has changed. Even the way she looks at you is different. You've never seen Jay Todd so ferocious.

FERAL!! insane opener. Like yesss her eyes. A girl could get lost in them and the sigh I just let out was so dreamy fr

Okay, you lied. This wasn't an accident. This was fate that you played a hand in. This was what was bound to happen after Jay got too close, let herself get seen. You've had an itch for months, eyes on your back. You're a civilian now, sure, but you loved a bat once.

On my knees! Especially that last line, you loved a bat, and even if you aren't part of their world anymore, you know enough to remember what it felt like. And the reader hunting Jay down to see her again?? She's so me. As if I would be okay with fumbling such a baddie after everything we've been through

Jay drops her gun, grabs your wrists, and knocks the wind out of you in a graceful takedown. You can't even be mad.

giggling and batting my eyes

When she was Robin, you had a slim chance of physically overtaking her. Now, double in size and muscle, Jay keeps you pushed to the ground with no chance of getting free. Her hands hold you by your wrists, body hovering close so you can't move much.

GIGGLING AND BATTING MY EYES. Just give me a chance!! ah, this whole paragraph has me glued to my screen. I might have stopped breathing. There's so much tension because of what they were and what happened and what they could be. Ahh!

"Jay," you say softly, unable to keep your eyes fixed on one part of her. You're afraid to blink and make her disappear.

owwww

"You're a good shot." You mean it as a compliment. Jay only seems to get angrier.

Reader is whipped and that is an accurate representation of me. Got me over here starry eyed and kicking my feet

"Stop talking like that!" she yells, tears in her eyes. "Stop talking like we're friends. We aren't friends. You don't know me!" "But I do," you say, limp beneath her, like a lamb caught in a wolf's bite. "Jay, I do."

UGh this is so visceral. Like there's the joy of seeing her again, being near her. And then there's the crushing hurt of why she's been gone for so long. Why there's the smell of iron in the air and she's yelling at you and trying to push you away.

Jay's mouth quivers as she bares her teeth. "I took you to that diner. It was mine first." "It never stopped being yours," you say quietly.

oooh! I gasped over this reveal

"You're fuckin' deluded," she says, eyes glassy with tears. "Fuckin'—sleep so heavy, like I can't slip in and smother you. No one would know. Make tea in your-your robe, don't even pull the curtains shut. I can see you. Anyone can."

!! wow. I don't have words but I do know that I covered my mouth with my hand when I read this.

"I missed you, Jay," you say, a heart-shaped lump in your throat. "And so what?" she asks, tears falling down her cheeks. "So fuckin' what if you missed me? You kept living."

Sobbing over them

Jay is perfectly still for several moments. Then she wraps two big hands around your ribs, pulls your shoulders forward like nothing, and rests her cheek on your chest.

We all need hugs after this one fr. Seriously, it was good!! The hurt HURT and I actually went crazy over Jay. 💙💙💙

Femjay you say 👀 how about the classic "you're alive?!" confrontation with a sprinkle of pining

sprinkle of pining you say-oh dear! i've dumped the whole bag in! along with a jar of erotic violence! whoopsies...

female!jason todd x afab!reader. violence, angy jay, reader being held down, crying, reunion. remember that girl best friend you had highkey lesbian tension with? yeah.

****

It's her eyes you recognize first, oddly enough, through her cracked helmet. You shouldn't recognize her at all, with how everything about her has changed. Even the way she looks at you is different. You've never seen Jay Todd so ferocious.

"You weren't supposed to be here!" she screams.

It's true, you weren't. You stumbled across your dead best friend by accident, found her hissing and vicious with a shattered helmet and a smoking gun. Four dead men surround her.

"Get out."

All you can do is stare. She's alive. She's back. She's yours.

"Jay..."

Okay, you lied. This wasn't an accident. This was fate that you played a hand in. This was what was bound to happen after Jay got too close, let herself get seen. You've had an itch for months, eyes on your back. You're a civilian now, sure, but you loved a bat once.

She pries off her helmet and your breath hitches. God, she's beautiful.

"What is wrong with you? You could've fuckin' gotten shot."

Your legs start moving. Your arms part. You expect the feel of a soft cape between your fingers, black curls to tickle your chin due to a height difference you never let her forget.

Jay drops her gun, grabs your wrists, and knocks the wind out of you in a graceful takedown. You can't even be mad.

"You're alive," you choke out.

When she was Robin, you had a slim chance of physically overtaking her. Now, double in size and muscle, Jay keeps you pushed to the ground with no chance of getting free. Her hands hold you by your wrists, body hovering close so you can't move much.

Her eyes are wild. A mix of blue and green. More green than you remember. Her irises have swallowed her pupils and her curls are knotted and frizzy. You feel inexplicably hunted.

"How dare you?" she spits. "How fuckin' dare you come here?"

"Jay," you say softly, unable to keep your eyes fixed on one part of her. You're afraid to blink and make her disappear.

"I could've shot you," she says. "You could be dead right now."

"You're a good shot."

You mean it as a compliment. Jay only seems to get angrier.

"I have to be. I'm the only one keeping myself alive," she says. You make a weak noise in your throat.

"I should've looked for you," you say.

She scoffs. "Don't say stupid shit. You're smarter than that."

"I should've," you insist. "I should've found you. I felt you."

"Yeah? Feel how I could tear you apart? It comes so easy now, you have no idea. 'M fuckin' soaked with blood."

You stay silent. Jay's eyes flash. She leans in, breath hot on your ear.

"Are you scared?" she asks like she knows the answer.

But she doesn't.

Your legs part further so she can kneel comfortably. You shake your head.

Jay snarls. "You should be. I've killed people. I'll keep killing."

"It's okay," you say. "You're angry. It's okay to be angry. I don't blame you. No one does."

"Stop talking like that!" she yells, tears in her eyes. "Stop talking like we're friends. We aren't friends. You don't know me!"

"But I do," you say, limp beneath her, like a lamb caught in a wolf's bite. "Jay, I do."

"No, you don't," she snaps. Her voice is mocking, brittle. "You know your fancy publishing job in a big shiny office, away from this shithole, and-and fuckin' Paul from Marketing who brings you banana pancakes from the diner."

Your breath comes out in a careful exhale. "You've been keeping tabs on me. How long have you been back?"

Jay's mouth quivers as she bares her teeth. "I took you to that diner. It was mine first."

"It never stopped being yours," you say quietly.

"You—" Jay growls in frustration. Her hands squeeze your wrists. "This isn't how it's s'posed to go. Hate me, hate me. I'm a monster."

"You're not."

"You're fuckin' deluded," she says, eyes glassy with tears. "Fuckin'—sleep so heavy, like I can't slip in and smother you. No one would know. Make tea in your-your robe, don't even pull the curtains shut. I can see you. Anyone can."

"I missed you, Jay," you say, a heart-shaped lump in your throat.

"And so what?" she asks, tears falling down her cheeks. "So fuckin' what if you missed me? You kept living."

You try to pull your hand free, and to your surprise, you do. Jay lets you slip out of her grip. You use your free hand to hold her scarred cheek, wipe her tears with your thumb.

Jay is perfectly still for several moments. Then she wraps two big hands around your ribs, pulls your shoulders forward like nothing, and rests her cheek on your chest. She shakes into your skin, kneeling between your legs.

You hug her head, smell her new-old smell, and let her curls tickle your chin once again.

[leighsartworks216]

Next To You

Zayne x gn!Reader

Rushed to get this typed and posted before 5am cuz Zayne would want me to go back to bed 💀 If only he was carrying be there 😔

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, sleepiness, literal sleeping together, cuddling

Word Count: 970

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Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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Zayne quietly steps into the apartment. The lights are all off, unsurprising for the late hour. You must already be in bed.

He places his keys and wallet into the bowl by the door and toes off his shoes. He tucks them away, right next to yours. He shrugs off his coat and hangs it up, right next to yours. He can never ignore the warmth in his chest from seeing your belongings right beside his. The thought of living without your intrusions is a terrible one; he hopes he never has to ever again.

As he heads toward the bedroom, he pulls off his tie and glasses. Slowly, as silently as possible, he pushes open the door. He looks at the bed. He opens the door completely and steps in with a confused frown.

You're not here. Odd, considering your bike is still in the garage, and you would have told him if you were going anywhere tonight.

He sets his glasses and tie down on the dresser. He knocks softly and peeks into the en suite bathroom, but finds it just as empty. He heads back into the hall. For as much as he wants to change, slip into some pajamas and put his tie and glasses away in their proper places, if he needs to go out again to find you, he'd rather be prepared for that possibility.

He pokes his head into the guest bedroom. Thankfully, the bed is still made, so you aren't purposefully avoiding sleeping alongside him. He glances over the living room, but you're not on the couch. He peeks into the kitchen, but it's empty, too.

At last, he opens the door to your shared office. The room was split in two, but over time your belongings have bled over to his "side". It became easier, then, to just move the desks to be right beside each other. It's not often at all that you both are working, but he's always happy to stick by while you work, and you've done the same for him, without him ever needing to ask.

He smiles, shoulders relaxing and mind calming, as he spots you slumped over your desk, illuminated by a single lamp. Your head rests on your crossed arms, cheek squished and hair untidy. Your laptop is open, but dark.

He rubs a gentle hand across your back. "Love?" he calls softly.

You hum and take a deep breath in. He calls your name this time, trying to draw you back to the conscious world for even a brief moment. You sigh this time, a slight noise of discontent slipping out as you shift. Your head is wobbly as you lift it from your arms. You can barely get your eyes open just a crack to blankly look up at him.

He smiles and frees a hair stuck in the corner of your mouth, pushing it back with the rest. "It's time for bed, my love."

You close your eyes again. He's not sure you fully grasp his words, until you sit up in the chair and lift your arms toward him. He chuckles softly.

Bending down between your arms, he guides them over his shoulders. They automatically join behind his neck, however loose that hold may be. Your head finds his shoulder as he leans the rest of the way to slide his hands under your thighs. With all the ease of having done this before - more than he wishes it would happen, if he's being honest with himself - he lifts you into his arms with your legs to one side of his hips, straightening back up and adjusting to your weight so he doesn't fall. You are never too heavy for him, but gravity can be a cruel mistress to an unprepared victim in the making.

"Can you turn off the light?" he whispers into your ear. It takes a moment to register, but you blearily peek just enough to see and reach out gracelessly to turn off the lamp for him. He kisses your head, and carries you to bed.

He lays you down on your side of the bed, still unmade from this morning. He holds your forearms and tries to free himself from your hold. You retaliate by holding on tighter, pulling him down closer to you. "My love, I need to get changed."

You hum in disagreement. Yawning, you say, "You look great already."

He chuckles. "It's not my looks I'm worried about so much as my comfort," he says. He lifts your arms from around his neck with some trouble. You whine from the loss, pouting and trying to grab onto him again. He avoids your attempts. "I'll only be a minute."

Zayne goes back to his nightly routine. He grabs his tie from the dresser and hangs it back in place before stripping himself of his work attire. The long pants and soft t-shirt he picks out are much better suited to sleep. He grabs his glasses from the dresser and replaces them where they belong on his nightstand. By the time he's slipping under his neatly made side of the bed, you're fast asleep once more.

He lays on his side to face you. If only you could see the overwhelming fondness and adoration in his eyes right now as he pulls your blankets up over you. As he reaches under them to gently guide you into his arms so he can hold you close and press his nose to your hair. As he breathes you in deeply and allows himself to completely relax and let go of the day's stress. As he whispers a quiet oath of love to you and kisses your head to seal it forever in the chambers of his heart.

This is where he belongs: right next to you.

---

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@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton

[mysteriaqueen]

Good, right?

Sukuna x Reader Oneshot | Modern/College AU (i guess) | 777 words

Summary: You and Sukuna have been sent to gather the necessary ingredients for some cooking class. And now you're in an empty storage room. By yourselves.

He kissed me. He fucking kissed me.

You throw your arms up awkwardly and freeze. You can feel his lips against yours, warm and gentle. You don’t know how to react. No, you know how to react. You should push him off immediately. There is no universe in which you’d want Ryomen Sukuna kissing you. Except maybe this one.

He pulls back just barely with the most shit-eating grin on his face. So, naturally, you push him away. But what does that mean now?

“Oho, you’re only just now pushing me away. Why? Because now I know you like it?” he asks, smug as hell. “I absolutely did not like that,” you say, rolling your eyes and looking away.

But taking your eyes off him was a mistake. Because now he’s kissing you again, catching you off guard a second time. But this time his hands are on your hips and he presses his chest against yours. He’s warm and that warmth spreads through your body causing your eyes to flutter shut. You barely realize it but he’s kissed you multiple times now. Your awkwardly placed arms have come to rest against his. But once you feel his skin you’ve got enough presence of mind to push him off. And he lets you, stumbling back slightly with a laugh.

Why did I like that????

“What the hell is wrong with you?! God, you’re so weird.” He just rolls his eyes. “I guess you are too.” “What are you talking about?” “You’re over here kissing one of the bullies you claim to despise so much.” “You’re kissing me, and I don’t even like it!” you say with a huff.

He deadpans. “You’re gonna tell me you didn’t like that? After how many times you let me kiss you? With my hands on your waist. I saw how your eyes flutter closed, you know.”

Damn it.

“I was in shock.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, maybe the first time. Just admit it,” he says, stepping closer with the same smirk. “It’s okay if you like it. I’d actually prefer it that way.”

You sigh, closing your eyes (a mistake you haven’t seemed to learn from) and crossing your arms.

“Of course you would, but I don’t mPH-”

Yeah, he’s kissing you. Again. You catch yourself melting the tiniest bit before you pull away. And of course, Sukuna noticed. Your clue for that is that his grin somehow got cockier. Bastard.

“Are you insane?” “Possibly. No more insane than you.” “I don’t go around kissing random people!” “I only do it if I’m gonna enjoy it. And I’m thoroughly enjoying this. As are you,” he says, leaning into you more.

You panic on the inside about how good feels pressing you against the shelves and-

“Back up!”

He obliges. With a smirk, of course.

“You know, repressing your emotions isn’t a good habit to get into.”

You just roll your eyes. You aren’t even trying to, you just want a moment to accept them for yourself. Or reason them away so you can pretend this never happened at all. Is that so wrong?

You sigh, turning towards the exit.

“Listen, I want nothing to do with you. You and your group just get off on terrifying people who are already a little scared of you. Ew.”

You couldn’t hear the quiet footsteps he was taking over your rant. So when his warm body is suddenly right up against your back you gasp. And when he snakes his arm around your waist you stop breathing. And when his chin ends up on your shoulder it takes everything in you not to make an embarrassing noise.

“Wh-” 

You have to cut yourself off because you can barely trust your voice. You can feel his smirk on your neck. You swallow.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. “What does it feel like? Good, right?”

You just about short-circuited after hearing that. Some noise of shock and disapproval came out of your mouth but Sukuna just laughed. After some sort of button-mashing quick-time event in your brain you finally get the presence of mind to try and take control of the situation.

“We’re taking too long. We still have to grab some flour and get back to the demonstration.”

There’s a moment of silence where you’re praying Sukuna will show some mercy. And he does. He actually backs up. Well, of course, he’s laughing the entire time, But a win is a win.

“Fine. I let you off for now. But you know I’m not forgetting about this. It’s only a matter of time until you have to face this again. I’ll make sure of it.”

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[yourmoonie]

DEALING WITH DOUBTS

Intro:

When doubts, fears, or anxiety arise, don’t fight with them or think that it is a dead-end. Instead, acknowledge them with gratitude. Recognize that fears are trying to protect you, doubts can motivate growth, and impatience signals your eagerness for good things. Invite your fears to wonder, -> "What if success is close?" Let doubts challenge limits and turn impatience into excitement for what’s coming. Rather than resisting old beliefs, shift your view on these emotions, give them a new purpose, and trust your intuition.

1. Shifting your POV

Instead of seeing doubts as barriers, let’s view them as part of our growth. When doubts pop up, it's because something within us wants reassurance or clarity. It’s a signal, not a dead-end. Now stay with me

2. UNDERSTANDING WHY IT APPEARS

Doubts don’t just appear for no reason; they’re often tied to past experiences or beliefs

Doubt -> an underlying cause -> why It appears -> how to reframe It -> moving forward

3. DONT FIGHT WITH YOURSELF

Doubts can actually help us to question, refine, & build more solid beliefs

Each doubt that you move through gives you a deeper trust in yourself. Like a good friend who’s honest with you, doubts can be useful if you listen, learn, and grow beyond them

The example:

✨️THE DOUBT: What if I am not good enough to get my SP's attention

✨️ LISTEN: Hear the doubt as f it's a friend being honest, pointing out where you might feel insecure.

✨️ LEARN: Ask yourself why this feeling exists. Maybe it's tied to a belief about self-worth.

✨️ GROW BEYOND: Use this awareness to focus on building confidence and self-love, reminding yourself that you're worthy and valuable just as you are

✨️ RESULT: Instead of letting the doubt hold you back, you're using it as a push to strengthen your self-image

4. PICK & CHOOSE

After acknowledging & understanding doubts, it’s time to release them

Imagine each doubt as a passing cloud

You notice it, see what it’s about, and then watch it drift away. You don’t have to cling to every thought

Choose which ones you want to keep

5. REMIND YOURSELF OF YOUR TRUTH

When a doubt comes up, gently remind yourself of your truth

Let’s say you doubt if you’re capable of achieving your desire

You could say, “I trust my ability to manifest & I trust myself”

It’s not about forcing the doubt away but bringing yourself back to your inner belief

6. Appreciating them & letting them go

The next time you catch yourself doubting, try saying, “Thank you for showing me what I need to work on.” This way, you honor the doubt but also make a conscious decision to not hold onto it. Acknowledging it without fear takes away its power over you

7. TODAY'S LESSONS

So today, we learned to:

✅️ To acknowledge the doubts without fearing them

✅️ Appreciate what they teach us

✅️ Letting them go and refocusing on the truth

Doubts don’t have to control you. They can be gentle reminders to dig deeper into your own strength

Trust that you’re on the right path

Some ground techniques for you:

Mindfulness Exercise (My favorite):

When doubts or overwhelm arise, bring yourself back to the present moment. Count your fingers, look around, and connect with your surroundings. Remind yourself that you exist in this moment, and that the thoughts passing through your mind aren’t truly you. Let these thoughts drift by and rest in the knowing that everything is working out in your favor.

Energetic Grounding Exercise (Another favorite):

✨ Start by sitting comfortably in a chair. Visualize roots, cords, or chains extending from your feet deep into the earth and from your base chakra. Feel as though you’re solidly anchored, like a tripod.

✨ Then, imagine a rope or pillar of light entering your crown chakra. This light can be any color that feels healing and powerful for you. See it flow through your body, traveling from your head to your feet, passing through each chakra.

✨ Declare out loud that you are grounded to the earth. Visualize toxins and negativity releasing through the roots into the soil, where they are transformed into energy. Allow the crown chakra connection to draw in healing energy that flows throughout your being.

This practice can help you feel centered, calm, and aligned with positive energy.