#but this is the start i promise i will come back to it

[dollgxtz]

Hide and Surrender

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: A simple game of hide and seek turns way more intense than you thought it would.

“I caught my prey, it’s only fair I get to eat my catch right?”

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, cnc, cunnilingus, predator play, predator x prey, hide and seek with roleplay, restraining, chasing, slightly rough sex, creampie, unprotected sex, overstimulation, forced blowjob

AN: Another fic idea that wouldn't leave my head. Can't remember which Touring in Love chapter it was, but in it Sylus plays hide and seek with us. And I was like, yknow what would make this 100x better? Predator play :3

"What would you like to play? I'll join you."

Those were the words that started it all.

You had half-expected Sylus to scoff at your suggestion, to find you childish for wanting to indulge in a game meant for children. But to your surprise, he agreed without hesitation, not even asking why. There was something in the way he said it, though—something that made your pulse quicken.

"You've played this before, right, Sylus?" you ask, covering your eyes with your hands to demonstrate. "You cover your eyes like this and count to ten. Then you come find me."

A moment of silence stretches between you, thick with something unspoken. Then, warm fingers wrap around your wrists, prying your hands gently away from your face. Your breath catches as you find yourself trapped beneath Sylus’ gaze—two crimson eyes watching you with something unreadable, something dangerous.

Those eyes—burning, searing, all-consuming—lock onto yours with something unreadable, something dangerous. It’s not just amusement or curiosity; it’s something deeper, something that snakes around your ribs and makes it hard to breathe. The way he looks at you is slow, patient, as if he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece, as if he’s already thought of a thousand ways this game will end.

You feel your heart hammering against your ribs, loud, deafening, a traitorous thing that gives away too much.

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering something, as if studying you. The corners of his lips twitch—not quite a smile, but something just as unsettling.

"I didn’t have time or interest for such games when I was a child," he murmurs, his voice low, almost predatory. His lips curl into something between a smirk and a smile, and the way he looms over you makes you feel smaller, caged. "But for you? I’ll learn quickly, kitten."

The pet name slithers through the air, coiling around you, sinking into your skin like a brand. A shiver ripples down your spine, slow and deliberate, leaving a molten trail in its wake. Heat pools deep in your underwear, an unwelcome warmth that you fight to ignore. Your throat goes dry, and you tear your gaze away, desperate to escape the weight of his stare. But it’s too late—he’s already seen it.

A low chuckle spills from his lips, rich and smooth, yet laced with something dark. Something knowing. The sound wraps around you, thick with amusement, but there’s something beneath it, something that burrows under your skin and makes your pulse falter in a way that has nothing to do with fear. It’s dangerous—not because of what it is, but because of how your body reacts to it.

Like a predator toying with its prey.

He lingers, close enough that the heat of him prickles against your skin, close enough that you can see the glint in his half-lidded eyes. Yet, just as your breath catches in your throat, just as the tension coils so tight it threatens to snap, he takes a step back. Barely. Not enough to be safe—never enough to be safe—but just enough to keep you teetering on the edge.

His head tilts slightly, gaze lazy, his voice dipping into something slow, syrupy, dangerously smooth.

"Go on, then."

The words are soft, but there’s no playfulness in them anymore. No lighthearted teasing. Only promise. A single word, unspoken but heavy in the air between you.

"Hide."

There’s definitely no playfulness in his voice now.

Your pulse roars in your ears as adrenaline surges through your veins. Fine. You weren’t going down easy. This was just a simple game of Hide and Seek—nothing more. You force yourself to ignore the way your stomach twists, how your breath feels too fast, too shallow. You're overthinking it. Sylus loves to tease you, to get under your skin, to watch you squirm. He loves making you flustered, and you know that. But still…there's something in the way his lips curled into a smirk before he turned around to count, something in his tone when he called out, that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"One…two…three…"

The second his eyes leave you, you bolt. Your feet pound against the tile floor as you dash up the stairs, each step groaning under your weight. Your movements are clumsy, fueled by nothing but instinct. You wince at how loud you are, practically announcing your location, but at this point? Who cares. The only thing that matters is finding a place to hide before—

"Ten." His voice is slow, deliberate. You swear you hear amusement laced in it.

You don't stop running. You throw yourself into his room, nearly tripping over your own feet as you spin wildly, scanning the space for the perfect hiding spot. Your chest rises and falls in quick succession, air burning in your lungs. The bed? No, too obvious. Under the desk? Not enough coverage.

Then, you hear it.

"Let's see where my little kitten decided to hide."

Your blood turns to ice.

Without thinking, you dive toward the closet, yanking the door open just enough to squeeze inside before gently—so gently—pulling it shut, leaving only the smallest crack to peek through. Darkness swallows you whole, the scent of Sylus’s cologne thick in the enclosed space, invading your senses. Your back presses against the wall, every inch of you wound so tightly that your muscles ache. Your breath comes in rapid, uneven pants, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to silence yourself.

Your heart pounds violently against your ribs, so loud it feels like it’s betraying you, threatening to give you away. You try to steady it, to slow your breaths, but every little sound—the creak of a floorboard, the soft click of a door opening—sends another jolt of panic surging through you.

Then, footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Getting closer.

You hear him before you see him.

The door creaks open, a slow, deliberate sound that cuts through the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. The room seems to shrink, the air thickening as his presence fills the space. It’s not just the sound of his footsteps—it’s something deeper, something intangible, an unseen force that presses against your chest, making it harder to breathe. Your heart pounds in response, the steady thump-thump-thump filling your ears like a war drum. Even as fear coils in your stomach, there's an undeniable thrill laced within it, a rush of something you refuse to name.

Through the narrow crack in the closet door, you finally see him. Sylus moves with practiced ease, unhurried, precise, like a predator that knows its prey has nowhere to run. His crimson eyes flicker with something unreadable as they scan the room. He doesn’t fumble, doesn’t hesitate. There’s an unsettling certainty to his movements, a quiet confidence that makes your pulse quicken.

His fingers trail lazily along the back of the couch before he crouches, peering beneath it. “Not under the couch, I see,” he muses, his voice smooth, almost casual. But there’s something beneath the words, something sharp, something laced with amusement, as if he already knows exactly where you are.

"Behind the curtains, maybe?" He doesn’t sound like he’s searching. He sounds like he’s toying with you.

He straightens, then shifts his focus to the glass windows, where the heavy curtains hang still. He moves toward them, fingertips grazing the fabric before he suddenly jerks them aside. You tense instinctively, though you know you aren’t there. He pauses, as if savoring the moment, before releasing the curtain and letting it drift back into place.

Your chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths. Your lungs burn with the effort of staying quiet, of keeping still.

Then he turns, and your heart stutters violently in your chest as his gaze lands on the bed. No way he doesn’t already know where you are. No way his senses are that dull. You watch, frozen in place, as he slowly kneels, resting a hand against the mattress as he leans down to inspect the space beneath the frame. He hums softly. "Hmm...not under the bed either."

The moment he stands, you know. His next stop is the wardrobe.

A faint chuckle spills from his lips, low, knowing, as he starts toward you with slow, deliberate steps. Every cell in your body screams at you to move, but you remain paralyzed, pressed against the back of the closet as if you could somehow will yourself into the shadows. You can barely hear over the deafening thud of your heartbeat.

"Y’know, kitten," he drawls, his voice a lazy, syrupy purr that drips with something thick, something dangerous, "the sooner you come out, the gentler I’ll be with you."

Your breath catches violently in your throat. His voice alone sends a jolt through you, a sharp, involuntary response that leaves you feeling raw, exposed.

Then—he stops.

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering something, before abruptly turning away. "Oh right, I almost forgot to check the living room."

This is your chance. Your only chance.

No time to think—just move!

Your body reacts before your mind catches up. With a burst of energy, you shove the closet door open and bolt. The sudden shift from stillness to motion is disorienting, but you don’t stop, don’t hesitate. Your feet slam against the floor as you propel yourself forward, the only thought in your mind being run.

You don’t dare look back.

But then—air shifts behind you.

A sharp inhale. A pivot of movement.

And then—footsteps. Fast. Closing in.

Panic surges through you, raw and electric, as you push yourself harder. Your legs burn, your lungs ache, but you don’t stop. You just have to make it downstairs. Just a little farther. Just a little—

A rush of air. A presence at your back.

And then—a hand. Wrapping around your wrist.

You scream, a sharp, startled sound that barely has time to leave your lips before Sylus yanks you back with a firm tug of your wrist. The sudden force sends you stumbling, crashing into his chest, your breath hitching as his arm snakes around your waist, keeping you locked in place. He’s warm, solid, unyielding, and far too close. His scent—something dark and intoxicating—invades your senses, making your already racing heart hammer harder.

“Found you, kitten,” he murmurs, amusement dripping from his tone. His lips curl into a smirk as he tilts his head slightly, eyes glowing with satisfaction. “I was starting to worry I lost you forever.”

The mockery in his voice is unmistakable, but inwardly, you’re grinning, nearly laughing. This was exactly what you wanted—a chase, a fight, a chance to push back. But you don’t let him see that. Instead, you put on your best scowl, defiance burning in your gaze.

"Your acting’s gotten worse," you spit, jerking against his hold. You bring your knee up sharply, aiming for his groin with all the force you can muster.

But he’s faster.

Before your knee can make contact, a thick tendril of red mist swirls around you, his Evol surging to life in an instant. The energy coils around your limbs like living chains, locking you in place just as he moves.

In the blink of an eye, he shifts, twisting effortlessly, using his grip on you to throw you onto the bed with little more than a flick of his wrist. The mattress dips beneath your weight, and before you can even think of scrambling away, he’s already on top, looming over you, his expression smug, too amused.

You lash out.

Your fist shoots toward his face, but he leans back smoothly, just enough for your knuckles to miss his jaw by mere inches. You shift, twisting your body, using the momentum to kick upward, aiming for his ribs. Again, he dodges—his body shifting effortlessly, as if he already knows exactly what you’re going to do before you do it.

“Tsk, tsk,” he hums, easily maneuvering around another wild swing from you. “You’re getting sloppy, kitten. I thought you were actually trying.”

You grit your teeth, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. You manage to free an arm from the tendrils of mist, and without hesitation, you try to land a punch to his shoulder. This time, he catches your wrist mid-air, his grip tightening just enough to still your movement.

“You bast—” You twist your hips sharply, using every ounce of strength to break free, but he barely even moves. If anything, he looks bored, like he’s humoring you.

Sylus chuckles, low and deep. “You really don’t know when to give up, do you?” His grip on your wrist shifts slightly before he suddenly pushes you down hard, making you gasp as your bodies gravity shifts, forced into submission once again.

You feel your pulse jump when his lips brush the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to something even smoother, even softer, but no less dangerous.

“And here I thought we were just playing.” His fingers tighten ever so slightly around your wrists, his body pressing just close enough to remind you how little control you actually have in this moment. “I guess it’s my turn to get serious, hm?”

Your breath catches.

Something shifts in the air.

"S-Sylus, wait—" you gasp, your words catching in your throat as the sound of fabric tearing fills the room. In one swift motion, he's ripped your shorts apart, leaving your legs exposed to the cool air, the sudden chill a stark contrast to the heat still simmering between your thighs. Your underwear is the only thing left, a flimsy barrier between his intentions and your already soaked folds.

You start to protest, a mix of shock and anticipation swirling inside you, but the words die on your lips as Sylus shushes you softly, his voice a low, calming murmur. "Shh..." he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver racing up your spine.

"All that fighting, and yet you're soaked down here, kitten".

With deliberate slowness, he lowers his head between your thighs, the anticipation building as his lips hover just above the thin cloth. His tongue flicks out, tracing the outline of your folds through the fabric with agonizing precision. Each stroke is slow, torturous, a teasing promise of what's to come, and your protests dissolve into soft whimpers of need.

"An orgasm or two should get rid of that feistiness," he murmurs against you, his voice a rich, dark promise that leaves you trembling with anticipation.

Sylus's fingers deftly hook into the elastic of your panties, pulling the cloth aside with a practiced ease that leaves you exposed to him, vulnerable and aching. The cool air brushes against your skin for a fleeting moment before his mouth descends, and all coherent thought shatters as his tongue finds your aching cunt.

"Ah!"

The first touch is electric, a jolt of pure pleasure that arches your back off the bed, your hips lifting to meet him with a desperate need. His tongue works with a deliberate, maddening rhythm, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks that have you gasping for breath.

Your hands find their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you hold him to you, guiding him closer even as your mind spins with the intensity of it all. He doesn't mind in the slightest, his low, satisfied hum sending vibrations through you, drawing a gasp from your lips.

"This—is c-cheating..." you manage to whine between ragged breaths, though your actions betray you as your hips move of their own accord, grinding against his mouth, seeking more of the pleasure he's so expertly giving.

“I caught my prey, it’s only fair I get to eat my catch right?” he says, before continuing his assault on your clit. His words send your head spinning and you suddenly feel like you can barely breathe.

With a renewed dedication, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that leaves you trembling. The world dissolves around you, leaving nothing but the exquisite sensation of his mouth on you, driving you relentlessly toward the peak of ecstasy.

The sensation of his tongue slipping inside you leaves you reeling, each thrust a masterful stroke that has you feeling drunk on the sheer ecstasy he’s delivering. It’s a skill that seems almost divine, the way he knows exactly how to unravel you, how to make you moan and whine so uncontrollably that it borders on begging.

Your body responds helplessly, hips bucking against him as your hands clutch at the sheets, trying to anchor yourself in the storm of pleasure. His tongue moves with purpose, each flick and thrust pushing you closer to that precipice, until finally, he shifts his focus, sucking on your clit with a precision that sends you spiraling over the edge.

The orgasm tears through you, leaving you breathless and shaking, your cries echoing in the room as you ride out the waves of bliss. But even as you begin to descend from the high, you’re dismayed to find that Sylus isn’t stopping, his mouth still working you with relentless dedication.

“P-please...no more...” you plead, trying to twist away, your body oversensitive and overwhelmed. But he simply adjusts his grip, his hands firm on your waist, holding you in place with an easy strength that keeps you from escaping.

“Still a little feisty, hm?” he teases, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looks up at you. “Like I thought. One more should do.” His words are a promise and a challenge, and as his mouth returns to its task, you know you’re helpless to resist the pull of his mastery, your body already surrendering to the inevitable wave building once more.

"Mgnh...ah..."

And just as promised, the fight within you starts to ebb away, like sand slipping through fingers, as Sylus's tongue continues its relentless, masterful assault. The pleasure builds higher to the point where it almost hurts, a crescendo that leaves you breathless and trembling, unable to do anything but call out his name, your voice breaking as your body jerks and shakes under his skilled touch.

"Sylus!"

The second orgasm crashes over you, pulling you under its tide, leaving you riding the waves of ecstasy until you finally collapse, utterly spent, like a boneless heap of jello. Your chest heaves with each ragged breath, tears of overstimulation gathering at the corners of your eyes, evidence of the intensity that just ripped through you.

Sylus leans back, a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he licks his lips, savoring the taste of you. He studies you with a mixture of amusement and triumph, taking in your ragdoll form sprawled before him. "Going to try and fight me again?" he teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

You manage a weak shake of your head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your own lips, despite the exhaustion. Damn this slick bastard and his godly tongue, you think, a mixture of exasperation and admiration swirling within you.

"Good, just how I like you," he murmurs, his voice a low purr that sends a shiver through your already sensitive body. His hands move to his belt, fingers working with deliberate slowness to undo it, each click of the metal buckle a promise of what's to come. "Seems you're ready for the last phase of our game," he declares, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with a hunger that promises there's much more yet to be explored.

You lay there, your body still humming with the aftershocks of the intense pleasure he had delivered, your eyes heavy-lidded, your breath coming in short gasps. Sylus, ever attentive, noticed your gaze drifting downward, a mix of anticipation and desire in your eyes as you took in the hard and prominent bulge in his pants.

Your cheeks flushed as you realized the effect you had on him, his hard length straining and throbbing against the fabric of his pants, a testament to the pent-up desire that had been building throughout your little "game." He had only eaten you out and yet his cock seemed like it was about to burst and break the zipper.

Sylus finishes undoing his belt, the soft clinking of the metal a rhythmic counterpoint to your pounding heartbeat. The anticipation is electric, a live wire thrumming between you as his pants finally fall away, revealing the impressive length of him. Even after all the times you’ve had each other, his size never fails to elicit a sense of awe.

Your eyes widened as Sylus, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, moved closer, his hard length throbbing in front of your mouth. You shook your head, a silent refusal, playing hard to get, but he was having none of it. With a swift motion, he cupped your chin, tilting your head back and guiding his throbbing cock towards your mouth.

"Open up, sweetie," he whispered, his voice a low command. "Good little prey does as they're told."

Your heart raced as you felt the heat of his cock against your lips, his hands firm on your head, guiding you to take him in. You strained for control, but his grip tightened, and with a gentle yet insistent pressure, he pushed his length past your lips, filling your mouth with his hardness.

You gagged slightly, your eyes watering, but he held you firmly in place, his cock sliding deeper, his hands holding your face still, ensuring you took him all the way down your throat.

"Good girl," he moaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "Breathe through your nose, kitten."

You did as he commanded, your mouth working around his length, your tongue swirling, your throat constricting around him, the sensation of his hardness and the taste of him overwhelming your senses. He began to thrust gently, his hips moving in a slow, controlled rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth, his moans filling the room.

"That's it," he whispered, his breath ragged. "Take all of me, claim me as I'll claim you."

His words sent a thrill through you, and you redoubled your efforts, your mouth and throat working in unison, your hands gripping his thighs as he used your mouth for his pleasure. But just as you thought he would climax, he pulled out, his cock glistening with your saliva.

"Not yet," he said, his voice hoarse. "I won't miss the chance to claim my freshly caught prey with my seed."

He catches the wide look in your eyes and grins again, a wicked gleam lighting up his features as he moves closer, positioning himself between your trembling thighs. The head of his cock teases your entrance, brushing against your slick folds with a touch so light it sends a tremor of anticipation through you.

"Stay still." he murmurs, his voice a low purr that vibrates against your skin. You nod, breathless, as he begins to push forward, the slow, steady pressure parting your folds and stretching you inch by inch. The sensation is both exquisite and overwhelming, a delicious burn that leaves you gasping, feeling impossibly full as he sinks deeper inside you. You unknowingly tense up, and Sylus pauses.

Sylus's voice, low and soothing, filled the room as he slightly broke from his rough and demeaning role. His hands gently caressing your hips, his body still poised at your entrance. "Might as well relax" he whispered, his breath warm against your neck. "You have no choice but to take it anyways, kitten".

His words, spoken with tenderness and experience, were a balm to your nerves. You recognize this as his way of checking in and reminding you to relax without fully breaking the mood. He began to move with slow, gentle thrusts, his length sliding into you with deliberate slowness, allowing your body time to accommodate his size. "That's it, squeeze around me," he encouraged, his lips brushing your ear. "Feel me filling you, stretching you, making you whole."

The pain began to subside, replaced by a building pleasure as your body accepted his intrusion, the discomfort transforming into a unique blend of sensations. You moaned, a mix of relief and arousal, as he continued his slow, steady rhythm, his body moving in sync with yours, his hands guiding you through the waves of pleasure and discomfort, until the pain was a distant memory, and all that remained was the exquisite sensation of being filled by his hard length.

Your fingers curl into the bedsheets, clutching them for support as he begins to move again, each thrust firm and unrelenting, setting a rhythm that has you moaning helplessly beneath him. The friction is intoxicating, the sound of skin against skin mingling with your cries as you arch into him, your body alight with pleasure.

Sylus's breath came in short, sharp gasps as he thrust into you, his voice thick with desire. "So tight, so fucking wet," he growled, his words a testament to the pleasure you were providing. His hips moved in a relentless rhythm, his powerful strokes driving into your core with a force that left you breathless, your body trembling with each impact.

As the pleasure mounted within you, swelling like a storm threatening to break, Sylus transformed his movements into a slow, torturous dance. Each thrust was languid and deliberate, a teasing rhythm that played your body like a finely tuned instrument. You were on the brink, right at the precipice, but he held you there, tantalizingly close yet agonizingly far from the release you craved.

"Please, Sylus..." you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea, raw with need. "I need to...I need to finish..."

He leaned in, his breath a scorching whisper against your ear, his lips brushing your skin with feather-light caresses. "I'll let you cum, my love, if you tell me who won."

This bastard. Of course he wasn't going to make this easy.

The challenge in his words sent a shiver racing through you, a heady mix of excitement and frustration. You yearned for the release, but admitting his victory felt like a concession too steep. "Fuck you" you spat, your voice caught between resistance and the relentless pull of longing.

Sylus's pace slowed further, each thrust a deliberate tease, his body a contradiction of slow, sensual movements and the raw, simmering desire you could feel pulsing in every inch of him. "Mmm, not quite the answer I'm looking for. Tell me, sweetie," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, sending tingling sensations along your skin. "Who won this little game?"

Your body trembled beneath him, caught in the crossfire of need and stubbornness. The sweet torture was a dance of agony and ecstasy, and it was almost too much to bear and you snapped. "You w-won," you finally admitted, the words spilling from your lips like a confession, tearing free as you surrendered to the pleasure he offered, your body arching toward him in a silent plea. "Please...let me cum!"

"That's my good girl," he growled, his voice a low, primal rumble that resonated through your very core. "Now, cum for me."

His pace shifted, each thrust gaining force and urgency, driving deep and hard, a relentless rhythm that pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed around him, muscles tightening in a wave of release, the climax ripping through you with a sweet, shuddering ferocity that left you breathless and utterly spent. In that moment, the world dissolved, leaving only the blissful aftermath of his mastery, the sweet torture finally giving way to a bliss that wrapped around you like a warm, comforting embrace.

As your body shudders around him, gripping him with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Sylus's thrusts grow more frantic, driven by his own approaching climax. The room fills with the sounds of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

His movements become erratic, each thrust deeper and more urgent, as if he's chasing the very edge of his own orgasm. You can feel the heat building within him, a primal energy that seeks release, and you arch into him, encouraging him to finish inside you.

With a final, powerful thrust, Sylus groans deeply, his body tensing above you as he finds his own release. You feel the hot rush of his climax inside you, a flood of warmth that fills you completely, making you feel full. His body shudders, muscles taut, as he pours himself into you, the sensation a sweet, intimate mingling of pleasure and finality.

Sylus, his breath ragged, withdrew from your body with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent understanding passing between you. He laid down beside you, his body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, his hand gently caressing your sweat-slicked skin, his touch tender and possessive. He peppered kisses on your lips, cheek, forehead and neck before settling next to you.

Both of you lay across the bed, chests rising and falling in sync, the aftermath of your "struggle" leaving a lingering heat in the air. The sheets are a mess beneath you, tangled from the chaos of it all. Your limbs feel heavy, aching from exertion, but there’s still a stubborn pout on your lips as you turn your head to glare at Sylus.

“Not fair!” you huff, breath still uneven. “I should’ve known you’d pull your dirty tricks…You owe me a new pair of shorts, by the way.”

He merely chuckles, the sound deep and rich, and before you can react, he shifts, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you flush against his side. His warmth seeps into your skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest oddly soothing despite everything. He squeezes you playfully, pressing his face against your hair as his laughter rumbles through his body.

“I could buy you a hundred new shorts if you wanted,” he murmurs, his tone amused.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t fight his hold. Instead, you melt into him, letting your body relax as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. His scent is familiar now, something dark and warm, laced with a hint of something uniquely him. It’s comforting, even if you’d never admit it out loud.

For a moment, there’s peace. Just the steady rhythm of your breathing, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the ghost of a smirk still tugging at his lips.

Then, his voice, soft but teasing.

“I definitely wouldn't mind a second or third round if it ends like this every time. What do you say?” he says, his breath hot against your ear.

Your breath catches, and you pull back just enough to look at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

The way his smirk deepens tells you everything you need to know.

[sugucide]

two weeks.

it's been two weeks since kento has been inside of you. He's gone months, hell even years without sex before he met you and he was fine. he didn't even wish for it like most of his bachelor counterparts did.

but now that he's had a taste of you? two weeks may as well be a death sentence. which is ironic, giving the nature of this sex ban. everything you do is inviting: maybe it's just his underworked sex drive or maybe he's reverted back to his teenage years because he sure does feel like an impatient, entitled brat whenever you walk past him.

he can smell you. not the smell of your perfume you spritz on each morning. not the product in you hair. not the moisturiser you use. but you, the scent of your self, your body, the skin he's so often inhaled as he bit down between your thighs or up the column of your neck. he can smell the memories of sex, sweaty and tangled in pheromones and all things primal.

he can hear you. not your words or laughter or the way you hum absentmindedly when you're pottering around the house. he can hear that sharp little intake of breath when you accidentally, or not-so-accidentally, brush against him. he can hear that whining tinge to your voice when you tell him you won't sleep with him, that you're punishing him, as if its moreso a punishment for you than him. he can remember the way you'd moan for him, desperate and glassy eyed and oh so perfect for him as he ruins you from the inside out.

he can't take it anymore.

"two weeks is more than enough time for me to think about my actions," he tells you over dinner one night, eyes cast downwards at his plate. "...and to come up with a suitable apology."

you place your chopsticks down at his last words and look up at your husband. "oh? let's hear it then."

over the frames of his glasses, kento's eyes meet yours. "i apologise for worrying you and risking my life for my work."

you tap your fingers against the table. "and will you continue to do it?"

"yes," he admits. "it's my job, one that i do well. if i die doing it, i hope it's in place of someone who didn't sign up for it, like you."

kento reaches over the table and takes your hand. "i can't just stop being a sorcerer. that would be too selfish of me. but i do promise that i will make more of an effort to reduce my chances of getting hurt from now on: no more unnecessary risks. okay?"

though that was all you needed to hear from him, you start to wonder if lifting the sex ban was a good idea when your pent-up husband is swiping plates from the dinner table to make room for you to lay back on it. claiming he can't wait the few extra second to carry you to the bedroom, he has you stripped and laid bare on the dining room table in no time, and he's ready for his meal.

"missed her," he mumbles as he parts your legs with a strong hand and bends down to kiss once at your clit. that's about and gentlemanly as it gets, though, because soon after he's making out with your pussy like he's a virgin. no technique, no precision, nothing but unfiltered need and its so much hotter than you'd imagine it to be.

eyes locking onto yours from between your thighs, he adds two fingers and works you open. two weeks was a long time for the both of you, so he'll need to get you used to the stretch of him again. he scissors his fingers inside of you, curls them upwards to hit your g-spot and smirks like a saint when your back arches off the table in response.

"missed you ken," you ramble on as your climax nears. "missed you so much. hated doing this. love you. loveyouloveyou god i love you."

you cum hard, harder than you've cum in a long time and kento laps it up like he's never tasted anything so good. he savours your taste on his tongue like he would an aged wine, something expensive and delicious and worth keeping bottled. though he's harder than diamond and worried he'll cum in his pants if he doesn't sink inside of you soon. so he stands and undoes his belt in record time (with those lovely hands of his) and repositions you at the end of the table with his leaky cock already pressing against your wet entrance.

he leans over you and shares a kiss with you as he pushes in. he inhales the gasp you let out at the stretch and moans into your mouth as a gift in return. he pulls out almost entirely, so it's just his head nestled in your tight pussy, and then slams in again. hard.

"god kento—" you start, about to chide him for being so rough with you when you notice his face dip into your neck and the sudden warmth filling you from the inside. kento's hips stutter and he bites at the skin of your shoulder to muffle the heavy moans that ache to free themselves from his chest.

"did you just—"

"don't," he cuts you off, cock twitching inside of you with his release. he's plugging you up, keeping you full of him and his cum. "give me a minute and i'll fuck you so stupid that you forget that just happened."

"you just—"

"don't laugh."

"im not laughing! it's just, you know like our first time..."

"shut up." kento's hips pull away and then slam back into yours as he starts a brutal pace with you.

that shuts you up good.

[miniscapes333]

Passionate confession from your FS (18+) (Possesive edition) (part - 1)

PICK A PILE READING LOVES ;)

👇 [PILE - 1] 👇[PILE - 2]

👆 [PILE - 3]

Disclaimer: The images featured are not mine. All credit and rights belong to their original creators.

PILE 1

"You have no idea what you do to me. Or maybe you do. Maybe you see it—the way my jaw clenches when you walk into the room, the way my fingers twitch like they ache to touch you, the way I have to exhale slowly when you get too close, just to keep myself from doing something reckless. Do you feel it, the charge in the air when we’re near each other? It’s unbearable sometimes, the tension, the pull. You’ll brush past me—just the faintest graze of your skin against mine—and I’ll have to force my hands into my pockets, grip the nearest surface, do something to stop myself from dragging you into the nearest secluded corner and making sure you know exactly how badly I’ve been craving you. I don’t think you understand how much I struggle with this. With wanting you and not being able to have you the way I need to.

"And when I think about finally having you—really having you—I imagine it slow, deliberate. None of this rushing, none of this fleeting, stolen touches nonsense. No, when I get my hands on you, I’m taking my time. I want to feel your breath hitch when I kiss that spot just below your ear, want to watch the way your fingers grip the fabric of my shirt when I press you against me. I want to memorize you. The weight of your body against mine, the sound of my name on your lips when you finally let yourself melt into me. Because, love, I’ve been suffering for you. Every time our eyes meet across a crowded room, every time your fingers brush against my wrist absentmindedly—it’s torture. Do you know how many times I’ve had to sit next to you, watch you, be close but not close enough? My fingers flex at my sides, my lips part like I’m about to say something, but I hold it back. Every. Damn. Time. But one day? Oh, one day, I won’t hold back anymore.

"And when that moment comes? When I finally let go of every restraint, every ounce of self-control? I hope you’re ready for what that will mean. Because I promise you, once I start, I won’t stop. Not until I’ve unraveled every little guarded piece of you, not until my touch is so deeply imprinted into your skin that even when I’m not there, you’ll still feel me. My hands on your hips, my fingers tracing slow, lazy circles up your spine, my lips ghosting over yours just to make you wait a little longer, just to hear that soft, impatient sound you make when you want more. And when I do finally give in? Oh, sweetheart… you will know—body, mind, and soul—just how deep my devotion runs."

PILE 2

"You drive me crazy, you know that? It’s not just the way you look—though, trust me, that alone is enough to make my thoughts dangerous. It’s the way you move, the way you carry yourself like you know exactly what you’re worth. That quiet confidence, that effortless allure—it’s infuriating. Because it makes me restless, makes me reckless. I catch myself watching you when I shouldn’t, leaning in closer just to catch the scent of your skin, clenching my fists to stop myself from reaching out and pulling you into me like it’s my right. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? It should be. You should be mine. And yet, here I am, pacing the edge of my own self-control, caught somewhere between wanting to savor every moment and wanting to pin you against the nearest wall just to see how quickly I can make you unravel.

"You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined it—the moment I stop fighting this, the moment I finally let myself have you. The tension between us is unbearable, crackling in the air like a live wire, waiting for the right spark to set it all ablaze. And when it happens? When I finally let go? It won’t be some careful, delicate thing. No, it will be electric. Desperate hands, impatient lips, bodies pressing so close that the world outside ceases to exist. I want to hear your breath hitch when I whisper against your skin, want to see that sharp flash of surprise in your eyes when I finally break past that composure you wear so well. I know you feel it too, that need, that ache that’s been building between us like a storm on the horizon. And when it hits? There will be no stopping it.

"And after? Oh, don’t think for a second I’ll be done with you. No, I’ll have you wrapped in my arms, your body still humming with the aftermath, my fingers tracing lazy patterns against your bare skin like I’m committing you to memory. I’ll watch the way your lashes flutter, the way your lips part ever so slightly, like you’re still trying to catch your breath. And I’ll smirk—because I’ll know. I’ll know that I’ve ruined you in the best possible way. And when you finally close your eyes, thinking you’ll get a moment of rest? That’s when I’ll lean in, lips brushing against your ear, and whisper, ‘You didn’t actually think I was finished with you yet, did you?’"

PILE 3

"You test me. You push me. And I don’t even think you realize it. Do you know how hard it is to sit back and watch you move through the world like you don’t belong to me? To watch other people steal your time, your attention, while I have to sit there and pretend like it doesn’t drive me insane? I don’t do well with restraint—I never have. I’m a person who sees what they want and takes it, no hesitation, no second-guessing. But you… you make me hesitate. You make me wait. And I hate waiting. I hate the space between us, the distance I have to keep when all I want to do is pull you into me and remind you exactly who you belong to. Because you do belong to me, don’t you? Even if you don’t realize it yet, even if you keep playing this dangerous little game of making me work for it—you feel it too. I know you do."

"I’ve imagined it too many times—crossing that line, claiming what’s already mine. And trust me, when that moment comes, I won’t be gentle. I won’t be soft. Not at first. No, the first time I take you, I’ll make damn sure you feel it, that you know there is no one else who can touch you the way I can, who can own you the way I will. I can already picture it—my hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against me, the sharp little gasp you’ll make when I finally stop holding back. My fingers tilting your chin up just enough so you have no choice but to meet my eyes, so you can see the storm you’ve been stirring inside me all this time. And when I kiss you? It won’t be sweet. It won’t be careful. It will be a claim, a warning, a promise. Because once I have you, I’m never letting you go."

"And after? I’ll keep you close, one arm draped possessively around your waist, my fingers tracing idle patterns against your bare skin. I’ll watch you, the rise and fall of your breath, the way you still glow from what we just did. And just when you think I’ve finally calmed, finally had my fill? I’ll lean in, lips grazing the shell of your ear as I whisper, ‘You thought I was finished? No, sweetheart… we’ve only just begun.’"

Paid readings availabe - check them out here 🫶🏾

[harrysfolklore]

yes do the lewis fic pleaseee

short and sweet bc i promised anon i would do ittt i hope you like it

You're fidgeting with your rings - his rings, actually, that you stole months ago - when Lewis notices your knee bouncing for the hundredth time. The arena feels too warm despite your backless Valentino.

"You're going to drill a hole through the floor, love," he murmurs, leaning close enough that his lips brush your ear. His hand finds yours, warm and steady.

"Easy for you to be calm," you whisper back. "You've won eight world championships."

"Seven," he corrects automatically, making you roll your eyes.

"The eighth was robbed and we all know it." It's an old argument, one that makes him smile every time. "Besides, this is different. This is-"

"This is you about to win Song of the Year," he finishes, so confident it makes your heart ache.

You turn to face him properly, taking in how unfairly good he looks in his suit. "How are you so sure?"

"Because," he says, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "I was there when you wrote it at 3 AM on my kitchen floor. When you called me crying because the bridge wasn't right."

"You're biased," you argue, but you're smiling now. "You have to say that. It's in the boyfriend contract."

"Ah yes, the famous 'support your controversially young girlfriend' clause," he teases, and you can't help but laugh. It's become a running joke between you, how the media can't seem to get over your age gap.

"Speaking of which, did you see that headline yesterday? 'Grammy Nominee Spotted Looking Cozy with Elder Statesman of F1'?"

Lewis groans. "Elder statesman? I'm forty, not dead."

"Ancient," you declare solemnly. "Practically fossilized."

He's about to retort when Taylor Swift takes the stage, and suddenly you can't breathe again. Lewis must feel you tense because his hand tightens around yours.

"Hey," he says softly. "Whatever happens, you've already won. Seven nominations in your first year? That's unheard of."

"I just want-" you start, but then Taylor's speaking.

"Music tells our stories," she's saying. "And sometimes, a song comes along that captures something so real, so raw, that it changes how we see love itself..."

You feel Lewis shift beside you, and when you glance over, he's already watching you with that look - the one he gave you the first time you played him this song, the one that makes you feel invincible.

"And the Grammy goes to..." Taylor's smiling now, like she knows something. "'Birds of a feather!"

The world stops. Starts. Explodes.

Lewis is up first, pulling you into his arms before you can even process what's happening. "That's my girl," he whispers fiercely against your hair. "I told you, didn't I? I told you."

You're crying already, you can feel it, but you don't care. His hands cup your face and he's beaming at you with more pride than you've ever seen - more than after any pole position or race win.

"Go get your Grammy, superstar," he says, and then he's gently pushing you toward the aisle.

The walk to the stage feels infinite. You're aware of everything - the weight of your dress, the cameras following you, the deafening applause. But mostly, you're aware of Lewis in the front row, standing and clapping like he's watching the love of his life win Song of the Year at the Grammys (which, you suppose, he is).

"Oh god," you start, gripping the golden gramophone like a lifeline. "I wrote this song about falling in love. About meeting someone who changes everything when you least expect it."

You find his eyes in the crowd, and suddenly it's just the two of you.

"I should probably thank Formula 1 for canceling that race in Singapore, or I never would've been in that hotel bar, jetlagged and grumpy, when this absolutely ridiculous man in the most expensive hoodie I'd ever seen asked if he could buy me a drink."

The audience laughs, and Lewis is shaking his head, grinning that grin that still makes your knees weak.

"To Lewis - thank you for being the most unexpected plot twist of my life. For showing me that timing is everything, even when Twitter thinks our timing is inappropriate." More laughter. "For listening to every demo at 3 AM, for believing in me when I was just another girl with a piano and a dream..."

You're fully crying now, but so is he, so it's okay.

"For never once making me feel too young or too inexperienced, for teaching me that love doesn't follow anyone's timeline but its own. And yes, I know this speech is probably going viral for all the wrong reasons, but you taught me that sometimes the best stories are the ones nobody sees coming. I love you."

The camera cuts to Lewis, who's not even trying to hide his tears. But neither of you seem to care at the moment.

Later, after winning four out of your seven nominations, you're in the back of the car heading home. Your head's on his shoulder, Grammy in your lap, when he speaks.

"You know what this means, right?"

"Hmm?"

"Now I have to win the championship this year. Can't have you showing me up with all these trophies."

You laugh, snuggling closer. "Better get practicing then, old man."

"Menace," he mutters fondly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

[yaniluvs]

ꪆৎ where love , feels like home

[ 리노 ] ✷ . . 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽.

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏f!minho ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑔n!reader g. domestic fluff , established relationship. I,7OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ L𝒾BRARY . 𓋜 . cw. suggestive , kisses , close proximity , intimacy. ✦ requested drabble. ! ࿐

yani's note ✿ hi again >< double post bc i'm motivated? might post more today... hehe. comments, likes, req/asks and reblogs are always appreciated ! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, darling <3

the air in the bedroom feels warm, the remnants of earlier lingering in the space between you both. your body is heavy with exhaustion, muscles still tingling from the intensity, and your breaths are steadying but slow. the sheets are a tangled mess beneath you, barely covering your bare skin, and your boyfriend—who had collapsed beside you just minutes ago—shifts slightly, turning his head to look at you.

his smirk is lazy, a little smug, the corners of his lips curling in amusement as he watches you blink up at the ceiling. " 're you alive, darling?"

you groan, refusing to answer.

minho chuckles, rolling onto his side, propping his head up with his palm. he’s still completely bare, but he doesn’t seem to care, his other hand dragging across your skin absentmindedly. his fingertips skim your arm, your stomach, your thigh—soft, lazy, like he’s mapping you all over again.

"should i call an ambulance?" he teases, voice dripping with mischief. "or a priest?"

"shut up," you mumble, turning your head toward him. your limbs feel too heavy to move, but the way he's looking at you makes warmth bloom in your chest.

minho grins, his bunny smile peeking through before he leans down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead. "i’m taking that as a ‘yes, my beautiful boyfriend, i am alive, and you are the absolute best, most skilled man to ever exist.’"

you roll your eyes, but a weak laugh escapes you. "you’re so annoying."

"and yet, you love me," he sings, shifting to sit up. his body stretches, muscles flexing under the dim evening light filtering through the curtains. then, he sighs and pats your thigh.

"alright, superstar, let’s get you cleaned up before you start fusing with the sheets."

you groan in protest, barely managing to turn your head towards him. "too tired."

minho snorts, rolling his eyes. "yeah, no shit. you look like you just ran a marathon."

you blindly reach out to smack his arm, but he easily dodges, amused. "watch it," you mumble, voice sluggish. "i’ll bite you."

his smirk widens. "you promise?"

"minho."

"alright, alright," he laughs, patting your thigh before slipping out of bed. "stay put, baby. i’ll take care of you."

you whine in protest, curling further into the sheets, but minho only clicks his tongue. he’s already moving, already taking charge in the way he always does when it comes to taking care of you.

"lazy girl," he mutters, "if i leave you here, you’ll just pass out and then complain later."

you peek at him through half-lidded eyes as he grabs a clean towel from the drawer. he’s still bare, wearing sweats and no shirt, still nonchalant about it, and the way he moves—effortless, unbothered—makes you want to drag him back into bed.

but before you can even consider it, minho is already kneeling back beside you, gently coaxing you onto your back as he wipes you down with the warm, damp towel. his touch is tender, patient, and even though he’s not saying much, you can feel the quiet care in every movement.

"..you okay?" he asks suddenly, voice softer now. he’s not looking at you, too focused on his task, but you can tell he’s listening.

"yeah," you murmur, watching him. his brows are slightly furrowed, lips pursed in thought as he works.

"sure?" he finally glances at you, and for a moment, the teasing is gone. it’s just minho—serious, attentive, waiting for your answer.

your chest tightens at how much he cares, even when he doesn't always say it outright. "i’m sure, min."

he studies you for a beat longer before scoffing lightly. "good. otherwise, i’d have to start putting a ‘handle with care’ sign on you."

you swat at his arm weakly, making him laugh.

after he finishes cleaning you up, minho tosses the towel aside and pulls the blanket over you before grabbing a fresh shirt from the drawer—one of his, of course. he slides it over your head, helping you slip your arms through.

"there, all warm and cozy," he hums, patting your head. "now stay."

your chest flutters at his words, but before you can dwell on it, he’s already moving. he disappears into the kitchen, and you hear the sound of running water. a moment later, he returns with a warm, damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

"here," he says, sitting beside you and pressing the glass to your lips. "drink."

you hesitate. "i’ll spill it—"

"i got you, lovely." his tone is softer now, less teasing, more patient. he tilts the glass gently, watching as you take slow sips. when he’s satisfied, he sets it aside and gets back up.

"where are you going?" you grumble, voice muffled as you nestle deeper into the covers.

"to make some amazing food," he replies, already pulling on a new pair of shorts. "unless you wanna eat air for dinner?"

"nooo, stay."

he sighs dramatically. "baby, you need to eat."

"you too," you mumble.

"that’s why i’m cooking," he replies, amused. "what do you want? something light? soup? or do you want something heavier?"

you peek up at him through sleepy eyes. "can i have rice?"

minho snorts. "you always want rice. what kind?"

"something warm. and comforting. and yummy."

he flicks your forehead lightly. "wow, such a specific request. thank you, i now have so much to work with."

"you’ll figure it out. you always do."

his expression softens, but he quickly masks it with another teasing scoff. "yeah, yeah. you’re lucky i love you."

you grin. "i am."

minho stares at you for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze, before he leans down and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. "brat."

"stay for a bit." you say, pulling him and not giving him another option.

minho pauses, lips twitching. "so clingy, baby," he teases, but the way he’s already climbing back onto the bed betrays him.

he slides in beside you, his arm immediately wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into his chest. his skin is warm, comforting, and you melt into the embrace without hesitation.

"five minutes, hun," he murmurs against your hair, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

"ten," you counter, tucking yourself closer.

minho huffs, but he doesn’t argue. instead, he lets his fingers trail up and down your back, absentminded and soothing.

minho chuckles, his hold tightening for a brief moment before he finally sighs. "alright, time’s up. let me go make food before you start nibbling on my arm."

"you okay?" he asks, not looking at you, but his focus is entirely on you.

"yeah," you murmur, watching him.

"you sure?" this time, he does look at you, brows slightly furrowed. "not sore anywhere? i didn’t go too hard?"

a laugh bubbles out of you, weak but genuine. "minho, i’m fine."

he eyes you for a moment longer before huffing. "you say that, but if i catch you wincing later, i’m gonna scold you."

you smile sleepily. "you always scold me."

"for good reason," he mutters. then, after a beat, he clicks his tongue. "you’re so messy. i should start making you sign a waiver before we do anything."

"minho," you whine, burying your face in the pillow. "can you not bully me while i’m recovering?"

"i’m not bullying you, i’m lovingly teasing you. there’s a difference."

"not really."

minho smirks. "you love it."

you glare at him, but it holds no heat, and he knows it. with a satisfied hum, he tugs you into his chest, shifting you into a more comfortable position. his body is warm, solid, and you melt into him without hesitation. and then he gets back up.

then, with zero warning, he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, then your nose, then your lips—quick, soft pecks that make you giggle.

"min—"

"shh," he smirks, giving one last kiss before pulling away, and getting up. "go back to resting, superstar. stay put. i mean it. don’t try to get up."

"i’m not five," you grumble.

minho raises an eyebrow. "yeah? then stop acting like a clingy toddler."

"you love it."

he smirks. "i do."

then, before you can retort, he disappears into the kitchen.

you sigh dramatically but let your eyes flutter shut, knowing that when you wake, minho will be there—with food, with warmth, with care, even if he’ll mask it with teasing.

and that’s definitely more than enough.

for a while, the only sounds filling the space are the distant clatter of pots and the occasional muttered curses from minho. you drift in and out of light sleep, the warmth of the blanket and the lingering scent of him keeping you comfortable.

after what feels like forever, he finally returns, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of rice and soup.

"okay, sit up, lazybones," he announces, setting the tray on the nightstand. "i made chicken porridge. best thing for post-marathon recovery."

you roll your eyes but obediently sit up, stretching. "you’re never gonna let that go, huh?"

minho smirks. "nope." he lifts the bowl and scoops a spoonful, blowing on it before holding it out to you. "here."

your heart swells at the gesture, but you still pout. "i can feed myself."

"i know," he replies simply, still holding the spoon. "but i wanna do it."

you sigh but lean forward, letting him feed you. the warmth of the porridge spreads through you immediately, soothing and comforting.

minho watches you, satisfaction flickering across his face. "good?"

you nod. "really good."

"obviously," he sniffs. "i made it."

you giggle, letting him feed you a few more spoonfuls before taking the spoon from him. "i got it now."

"mm." minho leans back against the headboard, watching you eat with lazy contentment. then, casually, he says, "if you don’t finish it, you’re getting another scolding."

you narrow your eyes. "you’re so bossy."

"and yet, you listen to me."

you groan. "unfortunately."

minho smirks but doesn’t push it. when you finish, he takes the tray and sets it aside before tugging you back down into his arms.

"there," he murmurs, pulling the blanket over both of you. "all taken care of."

you sigh happily, pressing your face into his chest. "you’re the best, you know that?"

minho chuckles, low and warm. "yeah, i know."

you slap his arm lightly, making him laugh. but then, he presses another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"get some sleep, baby," he murmurs. "i got you."

and with his arms around you, steady and sure, you believe him.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld

!! please let me know under this post, or this one, if i forgot you in the taglist, my inactivity made me lose track, i'm really sorry !!

[winged-thinged]

I mean yeah, in a sense you're not wrong. Here, "the Bible" is being used as a rhetorical shortcut for "Christianity" more generally. This is an interpretation—a very widespread interpretation, but not the only one. Yeah, I think Christianity would be a lot more tolerable if the major denominations were pulling from, say, James Cone instead of Calvin and Luther and Augustine. But also, like, this interpretation didn't come from nowhere.

If by "early Christians" you mean the first followers of Jesus, then yeah, they didn't believe in substitutionary atonement or eternal conscious torment. They followed an apocalyptic preacher who they believed would be immanently resurrected within their lifetimes. They believed the sinful would be cast into Gehenna and would die, and that God would remake the world (which isn't like...better, imo). When that obviously didn't happen, the Christian community started looking for another way to interpret their faith. The idea of hell as an eternal afterlife of punishment was imported from Greek thought along with Gentile converts to Christianity. Substitutionary atonement gradually developed as a replacement to this more apocalyptic Christianity, the promise of Christ's resurrection and of a world remade softened into the promise of an eternal afterlife (though strands of apocalyptic thought have certainly stuck around and continue to this day).

There are less abusive interpretations of Christianity and the Cross, like "God sent his son to suffer in solidarity with us, to show us that he cares about the poor." Or "We believe that God is love, and so everything in the Bible should be interpreted through the lens of love." But while these are interpretations that do have some textual backing (at least as much as the substitutionary atonement theory does), and they're a lot kinder than substitutionary atonement theory, they're certainly not what the earliest Christians believed, either.

If you find meaning in one of these kinder interpretations, I think that's great. If more Christians thought that way, I think the world would be a better place. But I think it's dishonest to position them as like, the real meaning of the Bible that's been overlooked all along. More kind and loving, maybe. Less punishing, for sure. But not necessarily more accurate to what the early Church actually believed and wrote down in their scriptures.

Look, we joke a lot, but really, "you were born evil, wretched, worse than the scum of the earth, and it took killing a god to make you salvageable, so now you'd better be grateful to that god and thank him 10,000 times a day for it and fill your thoughts with him 24/7 and abide by the letter of his every word, lest you suffer unimaginable torture for all of eternity" is a truly horrendous thing to believe about yourself and other people

[witherby]

If Punch line can trigger Jason easily what would happen is she ever met Harley?

Let's explore that!

Punchline: First Session

Masterlist is Here!

"I need your help."

Harley perks up, gasping, and rushes over to hug Batman tightly.

"I never thought this day would come," she says, jumping up and down and clutching a gauntleted hand. "Yes!! Yes I would love to be your therapist! We have so much to work on, starting with your parents. I really think you never internalized the event and haven't given yourself any space to grieve after —"

Her hands get squeezed gently, recapturing her attention. Blue eyes meet white lenses, and she furrows her brow.

"Okay, that's fine!" She sighs. "Can't say I'm not disappointed, but if one of your kiddos is looking for help instead, I'm still more than hap—"

"Not one of mine," Batman gently interrupts. "This is a...very delicate case, Harley."

"What's delicate mean in this context, Batsy?" She asks. "Delicate like schizophrenic? Delicate like CPTSD? Delicate like one wrong word away from explodin' and killin' everybody in a mile radius?"

"Delicate," he says, "like...this might hit too close to home for you."

"Me?"

Batman nods. Harley hums, equal parts curious and cautious.

"Any good psychologist worth her salt won't let a personal connection get in the way of providin' aid," she tells him. "If the patient isn't somebody I can help myself, I'll help ya find someone who can. When can I meet 'em?"

--

Your file lies scattered across the floor of the cave. Harley stares wide-eyed at your picture while she trembles on her hands and knees. Bruce, having changed out of his suit, kneels beside her with a steadying hand on her back.

"Oh," she whispers, "Brucie, she's so small for her age. And her age!! Sh-she's..."

Harley shakes her head. Bruce continues rubbing small circles in her back. When she leans against him for support, he holds her upright.

"How'd he keep a kid hidden for eight years?" She whispers, voice thick. "I know I fucked off to go play Happy Family with Ivy, but..."

"Nobody knew," he says. "Harleen, don't play the blame game, not for this. He kept her a secret for a reason; no one was supposed to know."

Harley lifts her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes before any tears can well up and fall. She takes deep, calming breaths, gathering her focus, then carefully collects the papers and stands with his help. She draws a pad and pen out of her pocket.

"I ain't promising anything," she says, looking up at Bruce. "This is...this is a whole different ball game, 'specially with that chucklefuck as the daddy. But I'm gonna try, okay?"

He nods. "Take your time. You were the first person I thought of, but don't force this if it's too much."

Harley gently squeezes his hand in acknowledgement. She walks past him and down the hall towards the containment cells, heels clicking quietly against the floor. She dug out her old coat with the name tag pinned to it and even threw her hair back in a low braid to appear as non-threatening as possible. The closer she gets to your door, the more the wonders if you would've been more comfortable if she showed up in her combat getup and mallet.

"Miss Punchline?" She calls, stopping in front of your cell. A cursory glance of your environment tells her immediately that you're under-stimulated. She writes that down. "I'm Doctor Quinzel. Do ya mind if I come in and chat with you a while?"

You cease all movement. You'd been sitting with your back to the door, gently stroking the head of the teddy bear Alfred gave you while muttering Mistress Mary's nursery rhyme, but when you hear her, you practically turn into a statue. Unless she actively stares at your back, Harley can't even see you draw breath.

"Miss Punchline?" She repeats calmly. "I won't come in if you don't want, but I'd really like to talk to you."

"...Popsy talks about you, sometimes," you say. Harley can't decipher your tone, but the words make her feel cold all over. "Says he used to miss his favorite gal."

"I'm sure he's mentioned me once or twice," she says, clearing her throat. "But I'm old news. Why don't you tell me about yourself? I'm gonna punch in the door code now, okay?"

You don't move. Harley unlocks your cell and walks inside, getting a better look at how sparsely decorated it is. The bed is clearly unused and half of the activities left here would cause an ordinary child to lose interest in about an hour without company. Overall, Bruce and his family are keeping you in a dreary room. If she accomplishes nothing else today, it's a guarantee that she's gonna get you better accommodations.

Harley walks around the room until she can see you face-to-face. Once she's in your periphery, your eyes snap to her and follow her every movement like a predator. She lowers herself to the ground, taking a seat a few feet away from you.

"There you are," she says kindly. Your smile is just as placid as the one in your photo. "I like ya make-up. The swirly pattern on your cheeks is very cute."

You don't respond, though your smile widens briefly. Highly receptive to praise. Your eyes don't leave hers, scanning, assessing, calculating. Harley doesn't feel like you're about to attack her, but you're clearly juggling something around in your mind.

"Bet you're thinking about mine," she continues. "Normally I like puttin' on the face paint, but sometimes my pores gotta breathe, you know? Well — the pores I got left." She glances down at her hands, paper white like the rest of her body from her dip in a vat of acid. With relief, Harley notes that your unpainted skin is a healthy color. Even though the bar's lower than Hell, it's nice to know that at least the Joker didn't immediately treat you to a dunk of your own.

"Punchline, I'm gonna be frank with you," she says.

"Nice to meetcha, Frank," you chirp, grinning mischievously. Harley lifts a brow.

"That was funny," she praises. "I know your, eh, Popsy, he places a lot of value on bein' funny. Used to say nothin' was worth the effort if it didn't amuse him at the end of the day. I'm sure you know that already."

"A giggle a day keeps the boredom away!" You say, pitch and cadence matching that of your father's. Harley knows that the grip on her pen is too tight. She breathes deep and forces herself to relax. "Ohh, hit a nerve, Frank?"

"I'm doin' just fine," she says. "What's boredom look like for you and Popsy?"

You separate your hands, fingers splayed wide, and make explosion noises.

"Do you get caught up in that explosion?"

Your smile doesn't change but your eyes get sharp. Harley makes a note.

"It's hard keepin' him entertained all day, every day," she says. "I would know. But I'm gonna tell ya somethin' your popsy probably never has."

Harley scoots a tad closer to you, reaching her hand out and gently taking one of yours. She can feel every bone in your hand and has to utilize all of her training to school her expression.

"It's not your job to make yer popsy happy. In fact, it's not your job to make any adult happy. Grown-ups shouldn't rely on their children for emotional regulation."

"Couldn't rely on you, either, could be?" You snicker. "Since you ran away."

"I left him because he was treatin' me like dirt," Harley says, a little more firm than necessary. "He's real good at drawin' you in, Punchline. Shows you an ounce of praise that makes you feel invincible, makes you wanna do anything he asks to get more of it."

Harley lets go of your hand to tuck a lock of emerald green hair behind your right ear, brushing gently against the shell. The edges are distorted, flatter than your left.

"He's also real good at draggin' you through the mud, makin' you feel like everything's your fault. Like you got no choice but to make it up t'him. Ya never wanna get on his bad side cause he really makes you feel it."

You tilt your head away from her hand, eyes dropping back down to the teddy bear Alfred gave you. You resume petting it, slightly faster and rougher than before. Harley makes a note.

"His anger's always more powerful than his joy, Punchline," she says, "but both of them are destructive. I wanna help ya break away from his cycle."

"No thanks," you say, "if I wanted to be a washed-up, third-rate party clown, I would!"

Harley feels a wave of pity for you. It's obvious you're just regurgitating your father's words back at her, and she's not surprised. Change doesn't happen overnight, especially not for you.

There's so much work to do, but Harley's not afraid. You may look and behave similarly to the Joker, but you're young and still impressionable and already starting to pull away from him without even realizing it.

"I can tell yer getting upset, and that's the last thing I want," she says, climbing to her feet, "so I think this is a good stopping point for today. But I'd really like to see you again. Would you be alright with that?"

You blow a raspberry at her, then cackle. Harley exhales sharply through her nose, giving you a fond smile, and pats your head as she steps past you and opens the cell door.

She can do this. She will do this. For you.

But, first thing's first.

"Brucie, you're kidding me with the furnishings! How's the richest man on the planet gonna put a kid in such a shitty room!? Don't look at me like that, mister. You brought me in t'do a job and I'm gonna do it right!!"

[forever-rogue]

hii i love the way u write for Joel and was just wondering if i could request something.

so i always see people write joel coming home later then usual after patrol and reader is very worried but i haven’t seen much of it the other way around, like reader is on patrol without joel and joel is all worried and can’t sleep and is just waiting for reader to come home and maybe reader comes back with a few cuts and bruises but nothing to serious but joel is just taking extreme care of her 🥹

AN | Oh, but I love this concept! Enjoy💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader 

Warnings | None

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Pacing ain’t going to get you anywhere,” Ellie stood at the foot of the stairs with her arms over her chest as she looked at Joel, “you of all people should know that better than anyone. ‘Sides what are you even worrying about?”

“Ellie,” he sighed her name in that familiar tone that never failed to amuse her. He’d been at the front door, poking his head out and looking around the yard and surrounding area, “why are you still up?”

“It’s only ten o’clock, old man,” she made a show of looking at her watch, one he had gifted her a few years back, “and I’m not ancient. And…I knew you were worried and I can’t sleep if I know you’re worried.”

“I’m not…” he stepped back inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He leaned against the door and looked at the girl with a small smile, “ain’t no use lying to you, is there?”

“Never has been,” she walked over to the couch and flopped on it, leaving ample space for Joel, “and there never will be. I can see right through you. You’re not as brooding and mysterious as people like to think.”

“Well then you should probably know exactly what’s on my mind,” he sat down with a groan next to her, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. The two of them exchanged a quick look, “I can’t not worry about either of you. You’re….you’re my girls and it’s my job to worry. She was supposed to be home this afternoon. She’s late.”

“Don’t you think we worry about you as well?” she nudged his leg and he huffed with a roll of his eyes, “we do. You know that. It’s okay to worry…even if there’s no use. They’re probably just running a little bit behind. You know how these things go. It doesn’t inherently mean that anything bad happened.”

“There is always use,” Joel insisted, “even if you don’t want to think there is anything to worry about, there’s always something. You can’t just trust anything outside of our walls.”

“Yeah…well, nothing’s ever happened to your sweetheart so I think it’ll be okay,” she insisted softly. Ellie barely managed to stifle a yawn as Joel raised an eyebrow at her before looking pointedly towards the upstairs. She rolled her head back and groaned, “fine. Fine. Maybe I’m tired. Are you sure you’re going to be okay? You’re not gonna stay up all night looking out the door every five minutes?”

“I’ll be alright,” he promised. He knew that, logically, everything would be alright but it still didn’t help to quell the lingering worry that was hanging on at the back of his mind, “I’m about to go to bed too. You’re right; ain’t no use with worrying about something I can’t change.”

Joel had had the intention of going up to bed after Ellie, but he'd remained on the couch for a few minutes longer. Soon enough he had changed positions and was fast asleep, snoring away softly, despite his intentions of actually getting up and going to bed.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you walked into the house, the sun was starting to rise; you’d planned on being home the afternoon before but you know, life always seemed to have a different plan. You hadn’t planned on getting injured either but here you were; your shoulder was grazed but patched up the rest of your scratches weren’t anything of note. Well - to the average person they wouldn’t be anything to take a double look at but your partner was far from the average person. You were pretty sure he’d have a heart attack, or something close to it when he saw you. 

You opened the door as quietly as possible, slinking into the front room and shutting and locking the door. You’d been sure that Joel and Ellie would be fast asleep but instead you found Joel sprawled on the couch, snoring softly. 

“Oh honey,” you whispered sweetly, careful not to make too much noise to rouse either Joel or Ellie.

A smile graced your face as you dropped your bag and kicked off your shoes, trying to be as quiet as possible. You grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and gently draped it over Joel’s frame. He mumbled something softly but didn’t stir otherwise. You tenderly pushed some of his stray curls out of his face, and brushed your thumb over his cheek. Your original plan had been to take a quick shower and slip into bed and maybe, kinda, sorta pretend you’d been there for some time, but as soon as you’d seen him on the couch you knew that wasn’t going to be an option. 

Instead of any of your original plans, you yanked your sweater off and tossed it the pile by the door before gently pulling the blanket off Joel’s frame and sliding in next to him. You had just enough room to make it in, and as soon as he felt your body next to his, Joel wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his frame. You made a small sound of content as you settled into him, quickly feeling yourself lulled to sleep. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel hadn’t heard you come home - not entirely anyway. He had been half awake when he’d heard the door open and then felt someone drape the blanket over him. He was pretty sure that he was having some sort of dream so he hadn’t questioned it or bothered to try and fully wake up. 

When he did finally wake up, he was confused by the warm body next to him. Panic was his first instinct but then he quickly realized that it was you. He let out a small sigh of relief at the fact that you were finally home. He put two and two together and realized that what he thought was a dream was actually just you coming home. You hadn’t woken up yet so he gently maneuvered himself out from behind you and made sure you were comfortable before going to gather up your things to put them away. 

But before he managed to walk away he touched your face and almost froze. 

“What happened?” he asked sharply, as he looked over the bruising on the side of your face that led down to your shoulder. He exhaled sharply when he spied the bandage that was covering most of your shoulder. He hadn’t meant to ask so loudly, but it caused you to startle awake.

You blinked away the bleariness that was remaining in your eyes and found Joel looking at you with a worried expression on his face. A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth when you realized it was him, “hey Joel.”

“Baby,” he sighed softly, crouching down in front of you, “thank god you’re home.”

“Happy to be home,” you whispered, yawning lightly, “sorry it took so long.”

“What happened? Do you have any other injuries?” Joel was ready to rip the blanket off and look you over for himself to make sure there wasn’t anything hiding from him. If anything happened to you, he wasn’t sure he’d survive. He’d been through too much in his life and he wasn’t sure if he’d survive another such heartbreak. He knew, he was well aware, that he was spiraling and was trying to control himself but it was hard. But logically, judging from how you were still quietly laying on the couch, he knew that you were more than likely okay and if you had anything more it would be superficial. 

“Just scratches and stuff,” you mumbled as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and shifted to sit up. You slowly stretched, careful not to aggravate any of your injuries further and fully aware of Joel’s eyes being locked onto you, “nothing I can’t handle. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Miller.”

“I hope I never get rid of you,” he mumbled as he took your face gently in his hands, appraising you with gentle eyes, “I’m gonna need to keep staying tough, baby.”

“I don’t plan on changing,” your words came out as more of a whisper than anything as you looked at him with sweet eyes and a saccharine smile, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he promised in return, closing his eyes and letting out a soft sigh, “I just worry.”

“Yeah, I know you do,” you put your hand on top of his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, “but what does worrying get you? Nothing except a few more wrinkles and worry lines. It doesn’t change what’s happened or what will happen. I know it’s easier to say than do but promise me you’ll try?”

“I’ll try,” he agreed and you gave him a knowing little smile, “I didn’t say I was going to be perfect. But for you I’ll try anything. You gonna tell me how you got that injury then, darlin’?”

“Joel…it’s fine,” you swallowed thickly, absentmindedly running your hand over the bandaging, “just know it’s all going to be alright.”

“Now what makes you think I would accept that as an answer, huh?” he said back down in front of and offered you an expectant look. You knew that he wouldn’t just accept that answer and you’d been a fool to even try that one on him. Silly girl. The only way Joel Miller would accept such an answer was when he was long cold in the ground and even then it wasn’t a guarantee, “you’re smarter than that.”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” your voice was small and gentle as Joel nodded. 

“I’d never be mad at you, baby. I just want to know…please.”

You let out a small sigh as you nodded, “well, it turns out that I was a little slow and umm, well, t-there was a clicker and the fucker was a just a little faster than me. A-and it got me so yeah….”

Joel’s mouth dropped as he processed what you said, “I-”

“W-wait, I didn’t - I wasn’t bitten,” you hastily pulled off the bandage to show him as though he needed some kind of proof. You’d never put anyone else in danger and neither would Joel, “just scratched and scraped. See - I-I’m fine.”

“Baby - baby,” he put his hands on your upper arms, doing his best to calm you down, “I’m not worried about you being bitten. I know you wouldn’t…no. But this is….it’s still not great. It looks-”

“Terrible,” you finished for him, fully aware that you would be bearing a nasty scar for some time, “I didn’t want you to panic.”

“I just want to know that you’re okay. I don’t want this to get infected - don’t laugh at that - and lead to something worse,” you hadn’t meant to laugh at his inadvertent comment but you also were tired and felt half delirious from everything that had happened, “but it looks well looked after. You’re just going to have to be careful for a while, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed softly, “you’re not going to let me go on patrol for a while, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he agreed, causing your heart to melt at his sweet tone, “I’ll pull double duty if I have to, but you ain’t going out there. Not right now - I think everyone can understand that. And if you even try, darlin’, you won’t even make it to the stables.”

“I wouldn’t dare to try,” you were absolutely a strong independent woman…but you couldn’t deny the fact that when Joel grew so protective and in charge it did something to you, “can I ask for a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can we go to bed?” you asked softly, “I just wanna go to sleep and want you to hold me.”

“We can do that,” he slowly rose to his feet and stretched before helping you off the couch, “that sounds great to me. You’re trouble, but I love you.”

“I’m just your kind of trouble,” you offered as he huffed through a laugh, “I love you too, Miller.”

[comfxrtablykai]

hey kai!

can you please write a fanfic about dae ho comforting us after a game. (with a one bed trope 👉👈)

btw love ur writing smm!!🎀

EEEE I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!! dae ho is my shayla😭 (TW: Blood, gunshots, talk of death. let me know if there's more i should've added!) This is also for my favourite kang dae-ho stan @lanadelreyworshipperr

Kang Dae-Ho x reader ────୨ৎ──── The gunshots rang from the distance as you covered your ears, your palms pressed tightly against the shell, till all you could hear was a faint ringing. You whimpered quietly as you look at the blood pooled on the floor. How quickly had they cleaned up the bodies? The smell of blood made you gag as you choked out desperate sobs. "I wanna go home..." Your teammates Gi-Hun and Dae-Ho picked you up from the floor as you took in shallow breaths. You couldn't hear anything, not their words, not the other players talking and rushing out to go back to the bunks. No. The only thing you could still hear were bodies thudding the floor and the harsh sounds of the bullets leaving their guns to pierce through the heads of the innocent people. You couldn't breathe. Everything looked blurry for some reason, getting darker and faded. If you hadn't died from losing the game, you'd surely die from this panic attack. You saw Gi-Hun run to go to Jung-Bae and Young-Il, but Dae-Ho stayed with you. You sniffled and tried to recognise the world around you, trying to ground yourself in this terrifying situation but nothing worked. It wasn't until a certain former marine picked you up from the ground, hugging you close and carrying you bridal style back to the beds through the obnoxious amount of stairs. You curled against his chest and sniffled, hearing his heartbeat and coming back to reality just enough to croak out his name to tell him you were fine and awake, "Dae-Ho..." You moved you hand to your face, wiping the remaining tears. Dae-Ho looked at you with kindness shining in his eyes. A kindness people here seemed to have forgotten, "Ah, you're coming back to us. I know it's scary but I'll protect you, ok?" His voice was so soft as he put you down to your bunk. You hadn't even realised you both had reached the bedroom already. You hand was still grasping at the sleeve of his jumpsuit like your life depended on it, and quite frankly, you felt like it did depend on it. You felt yourself slip away when he started to go back. Nobody was really paying and attention at you both and thanks to Gi-Hun, your mattresses were in a perfectly hidden spot. "Dae-Ho, stay with me?" You asked, feeling tears prickle your eyes again, you weren't sleeping yet you could feel the nightmare that would haunt you for multiple nights on end. You also felt pathetic. Everyone here was so strong, even Jun-Hee who was pregnant and here you were. You couldn't go a single game without crying. Dae-Ho's eyes softened and you could swear you saw a fondness in his eyes. Though he quickly hid it. "Of course I will. I promise that no matter what happens in these games, I'll never leave you." He said it with such surety that you two would stick together, it couldn't help but make you optimistic as well. Dae-Ho settled on your mattress besides you and took this opportunity to curl up into him even more, "I feel so dumb." His hands found their way into your hair and gently massaged your scalp. "You're not dumb. Panicking in a scene like this is... normal. I'd be surprised if you weren't. I know I am as well." He joked and you couldn't help but smile as you buried your head in his chest. "It doesn't look like it. You're so brave." You muttered and looked up at Dae-Ho's face, it was rigid for a second before turning back to the soft, smiling face she liked. "Yeah, well, you're my sunshine and you're crying. That doesn't seem right either, does it?" Dae-Ho wiped another tear that had fallen from your eyes and gently pressed his lips against your forehead. You close your eyes, feeling the exhaustion from the day finally bring you down. You fought against your sleep and also blushed at the kiss he had just given you. "Dae-Ho..." "Go to sleep, sunshine." He said and cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against the soft round skin of your face. You gulped in fear and held him closer. "Only if you stay..." You said and pressed your forehead against Dae-Ho's, breathing in and out, slowly, following the pattern of his breathing.

He smirked and leaned closer, the tip of his nose brushing against the tip of yours, "I'll always stay." He whispered to you like a promise and before you knew, you were drifting to sleep in his arms. ────୨ৎ────

[gyubakeries]

𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘂𝘀 | k.mg

a/n: trust mingyu to do something and completely throw my world off-kilter. i cried after listening to the cover because the song is that meaningful to me. mingyu if i ever meet you i will hug you. and cry. also, thank you skye ( @etherealyoungk ) for entertaining all my ramblings abt this fic <3 shoutout to kae ( @ylangelegy ) because i finished this just to torture u 🙂‍↕️

a BIGGGG thank you to cori ( @seoloquent ), ally ( @lovetaroandtaemin ), lou ( @tusswrites ), rae ( @nerdycheol ) and lexi ( @heechwe ) for beta-reading!! u guys helped me bring the fic together 🫂 ally ( @lovetaroandtaemin ) made this beautiful banner for this fic too!! thank u so much ally <33

and without further ado, glimpse of us gyu!

🏆 this fic is part of the angst olympics collab! check out the main masterlist here <3

word count: 8.1k contents: mingyu x f!reader , photographer!mingyu , heavy angst as u can tell , post break-up , grief , drinking , implied sexual content but nothing in detail , the tragic nature of relationships that crash and burn , mingyu is lowkey an ass , but he's making up for it , the narrative switches between the past and present , flashbacks are in italics , happy ending

it's all wrong.

when mingyu wakes up, a white ceiling presses down on him, the scent of oranges suffocates him, and skin that is brushing against his isn't warm.

he feels uneasy, his skin prickling at all these foreign sensations.

it's all wrong.

he should have been looking up at tattered glow-in-the-dark stickers on a pale blue ceiling. he should have been in the embrace of sweet roses that always managed to make him feel at home. he should have been touching skin that keeps him warm through the coldest winter nights.

he should have done a lot of other things too.

he didn't.

—

"y/n, i know you're in there," comes your best friend's voice. he's teetering on the edge of exasperation, but you can only laugh to yourself.

it's a pathetic sound, and you can only think of when it used to be much happier.

"you better be decent," seungkwan warns, before he's punching in the code to your apartment and letting himself in. the stench of alcohol hits him first, and then his eyes land on you—slumped against the couch, hand clutching an empty bottle of alcohol, and a hazy look in your red-rimmed eyes.

"you promised you wouldn't do this to yourself anymore," seungkwan whispers, biting back all the nagging and scolding when he sees your blank, regretful smile.

"promises aren't a real concept anymore, kwan," you croak out, voice hoarse from all the crying. "they're never real."

you repeat the words like a mantra, sometimes in your head, and sometimes out loud. seungkwan bites his tongue to stop himself from crying in front of you as he helps you get off the floor, drink some water, and sleep in your bed.

"i'll stay the night," seungkwan tells you, already pulling out the air mattress he bought for himself ever since you started drinking to the brink of alcohol poisoning. "tell me if you need anything."

him, you think. i need him. kim mingyu. he's all i’ve ever needed.

seungkwan can read your mind, and he stays silent after that.

you fall asleep without saying anything, and old glow-in-the-dark stars and real laughter haunt your dreams again.

—

it was the most beautiful thing you'd experienced in your life before it became the ugliest.

kim mingyu entered your life like a tornado when he crashed into your car on a sunday morning, four years ago. he left you with a wrecked rear bumper, a rapidly beating heart, his number scrawled across your palm, and a promise of taking you out on a date.

you forgot about the rear bumper quickly after that, and texted the number the second mingyu walked out of the car repair shop.

. . .

you (11:30 a.m.) :

ill be waiting on that date, kim mingyu

mingyu (11:31 a.m.) :

lets go grab brunch together

im still standing right outside

you (11:32 a.m.) :

see you there :)

. . .

it was no surprise that you fell for him as fast as you did.

it was difficult not to. especially when mingyu was the man of your dreams.

he'd hold your hand for every second of your dates, even after you told him your palms get sweaty. he'd remember all the tiny little details about you that only your best friend would know. he'd know exactly what food you dislike, and would never order it for himself either.

mingyu quickly fell for you too.

with every meal at random restaurants. with every movie night spent cuddling under a single blanket. with every touch of your hand, with every press of your lips, with every second he spends with you, he fell.

it took two months after the car crash for mingyu to ask you to be his girlfriend.

when you met seungkwan for your regular catch-up session, you told him about mingyu.

"he's perfect, seungkwan," you sighed dreamily. "i think he's the one."

seungkwan loves it when you're happy, but he hated that you were so blind in your love for mingyu to give all of yourself to him so quickly.

he gave you a silent smile. maybe, just maybe, if you'd taken a moment to reconsider taking things at a slower pace with mingyu, if you hadn't been so swept up in his charming eyes or your strong attraction to him, you would've read the look in seungkwan's eyes.

the look of caution.

—

it's the same look seungkwan is giving you now, as you down your fourth shot of.... something.

"slow down?" you tilt your head, the word feeling unfamiliar on your tongue. "when have i ever taken things slow?"

the night ends the way it ends every other time; seungkwan has to drag you back to your apartment, make sure you don't trip on the unopened boxes of furniture, give you water, and then sleep on the air mattress placed permanently next to your bed.

the next morning starts the way it usually does; you throw your guts up the second your eyes open, and all the wounds the alcohol helped close for you open up once again.

—

back then, despite all of seungkwan's kind warnings, you ignored him. you knew you loved mingyu, and mingyu loved you back. seungkwan never brought up the topic again. he convinced himself that you were an adult, and you knew what you were doing.

for the two years of happiness you spent with mingyu, you thought the same.

it was one of those whirlwind romances people see in the movies.

in month three of your relationship, you shared pieces of your heart with mingyu that you've never shared with other people. you'd fallen in deep.

in month five, you both said i love you to each other. some say it's too soon, but you could only think of how it wasn't soon enough. you fell in deeper.

by month eight, you moved in with him. mingyu started coming home to you cooking him dinner. you'd spend the night washing dishes and then slow dancing in the living room with all the lights turned down low. the two of you kept falling, hurtling downwards rapidly, without any care for when the end might come.

after a year with mingyu, you were already hearing wedding bells and looking up wedding dresses on pinterest.

it's too soon. it's too fast. slow down.

a seungkwan-like voice kept nagging you from the back of your head, but you tuned it out.

what mingyu and you have is true love. true love doesn't need to be taken slow.

—

he's at the club. there's a girl hanging off his arm, her hand splayed across his chest, and the strong scent of lavender makes him want to throw up.

for a second, mingyu almost says, i have a girlfriend, please leave.

but he realises that he doesn't. not anymore.

mingyu forces himself to look at the girl who's been chatting his ear off for an hour, and he feels sick to his stomach when he realises that she isn't you.

no one will ever be you.

still, mingyu finds himself pressed up against her on the dance floor. still, he lets her take him back to her apartment. still, he finds himself touching her.

and still, it's your face, your body, your voice, your presence that haunts him.

mingyu would give up all his senses if it meant that he wouldn't have the image of you burned into the back of his eyelids every time he closes them.

(mingyu’s also a liar, because giving up his senses means giving up the only way he'd be able to see you, now that you've left his life for good.)

—

"will you marry me?" mingyu asks, and the question knocks the air out of your lungs. you're tangled up under the sheets, mingyu's arm draped on your waist, and your leg swung across his hip.

"you're kidding me, right?" you laugh, going back to drawing random patterns on mingyu's skin.

mingyu wordlessly turns around, and you miss the absence of his touch for all of three seconds. you hear him rummaging through the drawer of the bedside table, and for a moment, mingyu's words feel real.

the realization sets in when mingyu turns back to you, a blue velvet box in his hands.

"open it up," he tells you, and with trembling hands, you take the box and open it.

inside, there's a beautiful diamond ring, and your breath hitches in your throat.

"mingyu-"

"i love you, y/n," he cuts you off, and you hear his voice go raspy and high like it does whenever he's on the verge of tears. "you're the only person i've ever felt this strongly for. i know that we've been together only for two years, and people might call me foolish for rushing into things so quickly, but i'm sure of this. this is—you are—all i've ever wanted.."

you feel mingyu shift in bed next to you, and you turn to see him sitting up. he takes your hands in his and pulls you up to sit next to him. he doesn't let go as he takes the ring out from the box and holds it in front of your ring finger.

"i've never been more serious about anything before, so don't think this is just a heat-of-the-moment thing," mingyu says, nervousness seeping into his tone. "y/n, will you marry me?"

think about it. it's only been two years. this is an important decision. take it sl-

"yes."

"yes?" mingyu asks in disbelief.

"yes, mingyu," you nod, tears flooding your eyes. "i will marry you."

the feeling of mingyu slipping the ring onto your finger, the feeling of mingyu pulling you in for a passionate kiss, the feeling of both your hearts intertwining because of this new shift in your relationship outweighs and drowns out the voice of caution in your head.

take it slow.

but it feels so right.

—

"seungkwan, you said you had a friend who asked for my number, right?"

it was a random thursday evening, and seungkwan was at your place, helping you clear out all the boxes in your living room from your shift to a new apartment.

"yeah, his name is wonwoo," seungkwan nods, looking at you with curiosity. "why do you wanna know?"

"you can give him my number," you say, eyes not meeting seungkwan's inquisitive gaze.

"y/n, are you sure?" seungkwan asks, standing up from his corner to go sit next to you. "it's only been five months-"

"you told me i should be moving on, right?" you cut him off. "that's what i'm doing."

"that quickly?" seungkwan questions. "y/n, i know you, so you don't have to pretend to be okay. you guys were engaged, and you expect me to believe that you're ready to see other people? it's not fair to you or wonwoo."

"i know what i'm doing," you sigh. "but fine, if you won't set me up with wonwoo, i can just go find another date. it's not that big of a deal-"

"you still love him," seungkwan states firmly.

you ignore him and continue talking. "i can't just mope around and sulk forever. i need to-"

"you're still in love with kim mingyu, don't even try to deny it, y/n," seungkwan stops you again. "i'm your best friend, and i can see it in your eyes. "

your shoulders droop, and you look at a picture frame you picked up from one of the boxes.

a girl was sitting next to a large window, an oversized hoodie draped over her figure. her face was turned away from the camera, and her long hair fell down her shoulders in messy waves.

it was just a picture, but anyone looking at it would feel warmth, and love. when you looked at it, the feelings once associated with it had gone cold a long time back.

your hands run through your hair, now cut short and barely reaching past your shoulders, and you toss the picture frame into the box labelled 'waste'.

—

click!

you whip your head around to see mingyu crouched on the floor, camera held up to his face, and the lens directed at you.

"gyu! my hair probably looks like a bird's nest now," you whine, realizing that he had taken a picture of you. you get up from the windowsill you were sitting on and go over to your boyfriend.

wanting a peek at his sneaky picture, you grab at his arms to steal a glance at his camera, but your attempts fail as he swiftly dodges all of your attacks. with his long arms, he's able to set the camera out of your reach. however, before you can protest, he picks you up in his arms and kisses you softly.

"good morning, love," he whispers against your lips, and you wrap your arms around his neck tighter.

"i wish you didn't have to go," you mumble, pressing kisses to all of mingyu's face.

"i'll be back before you know it," he assures you with a hint of sincerity in his eyes.

mingyu was leaving for a three-month photography tour he had been invited to. it was an important milestone for him, because it meant that he was finally getting acknowledged in the industry. and as his girlfriend, no, fiancée, you obviously had to support him.

but it didn't mean that you were going to miss him any less.

"you need to text me at least thrice a day, send me loads of pictures, and facetime whenever you're free, got it?" you remind him, and he laughs.

"what if you're asleep when i facetime you?"

"i'll wake up to talk to you," you nod resolutely. "i expect daily updates, kim mingyu."

"yes ma'am," he salutes, and you laugh too.

soon, it's time for mingyu to get into a cab that will take him to the airport, and all you can do is wave goodbye and kiss him deeply before he steps into the car.

"i love you," he tells you, and you mouth the words back to him as the window of the car rolls up.

the cab drives away, and you're left standing on the sidewalk, still wearing mingyu's hoodie.

the first two weeks pass smoothly, with mingyu's incessant texts and calls. aside from the fact that you were sleeping alone in your shared bed, and there wasn't anyone to have your meals with, it almost felt like mingyu had never left.

you get a package at the start of week three. it's from mingyu, and upon opening it, you see that it's a framed picture.

the photograph is black and white, and you recognize it as the picture he had secretly taken of you the morning he left.

a note in the package reads:

'this city is beautiful, but i miss the beauty of having you by my side the most. just a couple more months, and i'll be back. with love, mingyu.'

just two more months, you tell yourself, clutching the frame to your chest.

little did you know, two months was more than enough time for your relationship to come falling apart.

castles made out of sand don't last for long, after all; all it takes is one wave for it to be swept off.

—

"can i get another one of these?" you ask the bartender, gesturing to your empty glass, and he nods. you slump up against the bar again, the events of the evening replaying in your head.

you had finally gone out on a date with a guy from work. he had shown interest in you for a long time, but back then, you had a ring on your finger and the vague promise of a wedding looming over your head.

now, however, you were free to date whomever you wanted.

(if freedom meant living without the one person who your heart longs for the most, you wish you could give it up.)

the date had been a disaster.

the entire time, while the guy kept talking about his interests and his dog, all you could see in front of you was tan skin, pointy canines, a mole decorating the tip of the nose, and the warm smile you loved so dearly.

all you could see was mingyu.

no matter how much you tried, you couldn't get him out of your head. it got to the point where your brain tuned the guy out completely, and for a while, your senses stopped working.

all you could feel was mingyu, mingyu, mingyu.

"i have to go," you had choked out apologetically before rushing out of the restaurant and heading to the nearest bar to get shit-faced.

"why am i so pathetic?" you mutter to yourself, a few hours later, in the back of seungkwan's car. "why can't i stop loving him? even after he hurt me?"

"the heart wants what it wants" seungkwan sighs, glancing back at your limp figure in his car.

"you'll be okay, y/n," he tells you, but you're not sure if you ever will.

everywhere you look, all you see is mingyu.

—

by month two of his photography trip, mingyu had stopped texting as frequently, and that's exactly when everything began to fall apart.

your texts went unanswered for hours, and you would get only a few short replies from mingyu over the span of multiple days, so, eventually, you stopped texting him about your day in detail.

he never answered your calls, so, eventually, you stopped calling him whenever you missed him at night.

and then came the next change: mingyu called you, a week before he was set to come back home, only to tell you that the photographer he's idolized all his life wanted mingyu to join him in america for a month.

"it's the opportunity of a lifetime," mingyu said, voice brimming with excitement. "but if you don't want me to-"

"mingyu, you're going to america," you cut him off. "i'm so happy for you, love. and don't worry about me, i'll manage just fine for another month."

"thank god, i expected you to start crying over the phone," mingyu said with a laugh, and it was probably a joke, but the words stung a little more than they should have. "okay, i gotta go. talk to you later?"

"sure, gyu," you replied, trying to tamp down the momentary sadness you felt. "i love y-"

the line went dead before you could finish, and your heart sunk.

mingyu stops saying that he loves you, so, eventually, you stop saying it too.

—

ten months have passed since the breakup, and you're finally getting a hold on yourself. there are some bad days where you can't even get out of bed without crying your eyes out over the absence of him in your life. but on other days, you manage to shower, make yourself breakfast, go to work, and distract yourself from the fact that you're going home to an apartment that feels strange and unfamiliar; a far cry from the coziness of the home you shared with mingyu.

still, you keep pushing through. it's a new beginning, you tell yourself, even though all you want to do is go back to the past.

you tell seungkwan just as much, and all he says in response is, "remind yourself of why you left, y/n. yes, you loved each other, but maybe love isn't always enough."

so, on a particularly bad sunday morning, that marked five years since the day you had first met mingyu, you let yourself remember exactly why you left him.

you don't leave the bed till later that evening, when you have no more tears left to shed, and the scars of past memories have been etched into your skin all over again.

—

five months. it's been five months since mingyu left for his three-month photography trip, and he's set to come home today.

you spent all morning cleaning the house, calling his mother for his favorite recipes, and putting on his favorite dress, just to make everything perfect.

the last text you had sent him had gone unanswered since the previous night, hence you had no idea what time mingyu's flight would land. you wait the entire day for the apartment door to open, but afternoon shifts to evening, fresh food goes stale, and mingyu still isn't home.

it's close to 1 in the morning when you're awoken by another presence in the living room. you had fallen asleep on the couch after eating instant ramen for dinner, but when you open your eyes, all sleep leaves you in an instant.

"mingyu," you whisper, and your fiance sets down his suitcase and bags, opening his arms up for a hug. you rush to him and hug him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck, dirty airport clothes be damned.

"i missed you so much," you whisper, and mingyu only responds with a kiss to your shoulder. he pulls back first, and you see the exhaustion written all over his face.

"can we talk in the morning?" he asks, giving you a small smile. "i'm really tired now."

"of course," you nod. mingyu kisses your forehead as a small thank you before leaving to shower. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel disappointed when he didn't even hold you in your sleep that night.

it's alright, he's just tired, you tell yourself. and that night, you still shiver in the cold bed, even though mingyu is back in it.

—

the talk never happens the next morning. mingyu leaves for a photoshoot right after breakfast, and you haven't even had the chance to kiss him properly ever since he came back home.

the talk never happens at all. you both move past it, as if the last four months of silence and distance hadn't affected your relationship at all.

it was wishful thinking on your part to think that you and mingyu could bounce back from the last four months unscathed. you tried so hard to not to overthink how mingyu wasn't the same anymore.

he'd work longer hours, and when you asked him about his day, he'd just give you short answers. he'd rarely say the words 'i love you' back to you. his smiles stopped reaching his eyes. his body stopped seeking your touch.

it felt like with every passing day, the chasm that had formed between you and mingyu grew wider, and you had no idea how to cross over it.

one year passes after mingyu proposed, and he never even brings up the wedding.

you delete the wedding pinterest board on your phone.

—

it's been a year since the breakup, and you're driving to meet seungkwan for sunday brunch, when a sudden push from the back jostles you, and you hear the loud crunch of metal.

shit.

you're immediately rushing out of the car to assess the situation. your rear bumper has been completely destroyed, and the owner of the car that bumped into yours is already apologizing frantically, when you realize—

"mingyu?" your voice is a strangled thing as you bring your eyes up to look at the man standing in front of you.

he seems just as shocked as you, his face immediately turning pale and his eyes widening almost comically.

"it's- it's you," the words fall from mingyu's lips, and you feel your eyes fill up with tears embarrassingly quickly. you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from crying in front of your ex, and keep your tone calm and composed as you say, "don't worry about the bumper, i'll take care of it. bye."

you're turning away to get back into the safety of your car to cry your heart out, but mingyu stops you.

"y/n, can we talk? please?" he pleads, and you shut your eyes tightly, not wanting to meet his. you're afraid of what you might do if you look into his eyes again.

"there's nothing to talk about, mingyu," you shake your head. "we- whatever was there between us is over now."

"so we don't have to talk about the fact that you packed your things up, put your ring on the kitchen counter, and left my life? without any explanation?" mingyu presses, and you gather the courage to face him.

you regret your decision to do so, because all you can think about when you look at him is that one day, a year ago, when you decided to leave.

—

it's a random tuesday morning — or maybe it's thursday, you're not sure. ever since your relationship with mingyu started feeling more like a connection shared by strangers rather than lovers, the days seemed to be bleeding together.

mingyu is all over the apartment, his formal shirt untucked and not fully buttoned, socks mismatched, and his movements rushed. he goes into the bedroom to get a tie, then goes into the closet to get his shoes, goes back into the bedroom because he forgot his watch, and the process continues.

you sit on the couch, scrolling through your emails and not paying attention to mingyu. maybe a year ago, you would have joined in on the chaotic mess, but right now, mingyu's groans of frustration are nothing but annoying to you.

"y/n, have you seen my watch? the new one?" mingyu asks, approaching your figure on the couch.

you simply shrug your shoulders, looking up at him for a moment and shaking your head. "you keep telling me not to touch your stuff, so i wouldn't know."

mingyu bristles at your response. "why do you sound so petty? the only reason i told you that is because you misplaced my memory card!"

"it was empty! it wasn't like you lost any of the photos on it," you bite back. "and it was a mistake, mingyu. i'm human.”

mingyu pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply to calm himself down. "fine, let's forget about that. could you please just tell me where the watch is?"

"i don't know where it is, mingyu," you repeat, going back to your phone.

"well, would it kill you to get off the fucking couch and help me find it?" mingyu snaps. "you know that i have an important event to attend. why are you being so difficult?"

"maybe i don't want to help!" you retort. "you just use me as some personal assistant who makes you meals, does the laundry and makes sure everything is in perfect condition for you. it's like i'm not your fiancée anymore!"

"you know what, i don't have time for this," mingyu fumes. "you're being unreasonable, and i don't know why-"

"you don't have time for me at all, anymore," you scoff. "it's always events, meetings, shoots. you're going ahead in your career but you're leaving me behind."

"that is so selfish of you!" mingyu lashes out. "do you expect me to drop my career and spend all my time with you?"

"i expect you to at least acknowledge my presence, mingyu!" your voice cracks with the weight of the past year suffocating you. "i've always supported your career. i've always wanted the best for you, but you just discarded me to the side! do you know how pathetic it feels?"

mingyu's expression falters, realization flickering in his eyes. "y/n, i didn't- i never wanted you to feel like that, i-"

"i've had enough of your excuses," you stop him. "i've had enough of this mingyu. just- just go attend your event, okay?"

mingyu gulps, the guilt flooding his body. "let's talk when i get home? please, y/n."

you don't give him an answer, and before mingyu can plead again, he gets a call from his assistant, who informs him that he needs to leave as soon as possible.

"i have to leave now, but i'll come back and we'll sort this out, yeah?" mingyu tells you, having calmed down significantly. "i'll see you later, y/n. i- i love you."

the last three words are like a knife twisting in your gut. you can only watch as mingyu hastily finishes getting ready and leaves the house. the second the door shuts behind him, you go into the bedroom and start packing all your clothes and shoes into suitcases.

you stuff in some other important things, like documents, pictures, jewellery, everything you brought with you when you moved into mingyu's house.

you leave behind the pink fuzzy slippers that had a matching blue pair. you leave behind the ugly paper mache statue you made with him. you leave behind the matching 'his' and 'hers' mugs you both drank coffee from.

you leave behind the engagement ring on the kitchen counter.

you walk out the door in two hours, both your ring finger and heart empty.

—

you snap back into the present, where mingyu's frame is still towering over you.

"i thought that argument was all the explanation you needed," you mutter indifferently, trying to tamp down the tears that were trying to escape.

"it wasn't, y/n. it just left me confused and-"

"then imagine how i felt," you let out a dry laugh. "imagine how i felt when you came back home from your photography trip and didn't say a word about all the missed calls and unanswered texts. when you never brought up our wedding and kept me waiting for some shitty happy ending i wanted with you. you left me in the dark, like i was nothing but some old childhood toy you shoved away in the attic to collect dust."

"that trip changed a lot of things for me too, y/n,” mingyu shoots back. “i was reaching the peak of my career, and it kept making me question whether i was ready to settle down then. i was scared and confused because i had never felt for someone the way i felt for you, but i also wasn’t sure if us getting married that quickly was going to be a good choice.”

"why didn’t you think about all this before you proposed?" you argue. "and why did you never talk to me about any of this? we would’ve figured out something that worked for the both of us."

"y/n, i-"

the loud honk of a car behind the both of you interrupted mingyu, and you take that as a cue to leave the conversation.

"look, we're past all the excuses now," you look away from mingyu. "what we had is in the past, and we both need to move on."

"i can't," mingyu says, and those two words knock the breath out of your lungs. you turn around to look at him again, hoping to find some ounce of a lie in his words, but the look in his eyes says it all.

he isn't lying.

"i've tried moving on, y/n. i've tried to forget you but it never works. i've tried so hard, but no one is you. i'll never love anyone as much as i love you, and that scares me," mingyu chokes out.

the car is still honking, but you can't seem to move from your spot.

"you'll- you'll move on someday," your voice is shaky and barely sounds convincing to even you. you don't know whether your heart is happy or broken at what mingyu just said.

"i know i won't, because what i feel for you is true love," he says with conviction. "y/n, our relationship may have been brief. we may have taken things too fast and fizzled out, but i know my feelings are real."

"how can you say that? we only hurt each other in the end," you shake your head. "it can't be true love if both of us ended up with broken hearts."

"my heart still hurts every day when i wake up and realize you're not there," mingyu sighs. "i still make two cups of coffee, and one goes down the drain because you're not there. i still call out your name when i can't find my goddamn keys, but you're not there. it still hurts so much, even after all this time has passed.'

"and i know i was the one at fault," mingyu continues. "i haven't stopped beating myself up about how stupid i was to ignore you and your needs like that. i wish i had admitted the truth to you, and i regret not doing that every day. god, y/n, i cry myself to sleep every night thinking about our wedding and how i was the one who went and ruined it all."

the tears finally spill, and by now the car has already turned around to take another route. your chest heaves with how much you're crying, and you realize that you should’ve reached out to mingyu too.

you waited and waited for mingyu to say something, but you never said anything either. you pretended that everything was okay when it really wasn't. maybe if you'd said something-

"stop, i know what you're doing in there," mingyu breaks your train of thought. "you- don't blame yourself. relationships end and hearts break, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve a second chance."

"mingyu, i- i don't know how i can trust you again," you speak, your voice hoarse. "you said it yourself. we- we crashed and burned. we hurt each other with our love, and i can't go through that heartbreak again."

"let me earn it back," mingyu pleads. "let me make up for my mistakes, y/n. i'd die regretting losing you without having a chance to tell you how sorry i am for doing that to you."

there's two voices in you.

one tells you to let down your walls and let mingyu in again.

the other one curls up in your lungs and it tastes like the bitter alcohol you drank almost every night to forget mingyu. it tells you that you're going to get your heart broken again.

a third voice breaks through the noise, and it's mingyu.

"please, y/n. let me make things right," his voice has dropped to a whisper, and the conflict in your mind stops.

"i'll consider it, if you pay to get the rear bumper fixed."

—

"what if we break up some day?" you ask mingyu when he brings up plans of growing old with you in the countryside of france.

"we've been dating for a year and you're already thinking of breaking up with me?" mingyu gasps, which makes you giggle. "i'm hurt, babe. i'd never do that to you."

"but what if you did? or if i hurt you?" you ask, the question not wanting to leave your mind. "everyone tells us we're going too fast. that we're going to crash. what happens then?"

mingyu exhales deeply before turning to face you. he cups your face with his hands and looks deep into your eyes.

"even if we end up crashing, even if we end up leaving each other, i promise to find you again," he says sincerely. "if it's my fault, i'll apologize till my last breath, till i know that you've forgiven me. and if it's your fault, well — as long as you show up in my life again, i'll forgive you."

"that's not fair to you," you laugh. "you shouldn't let me off the hook that easily."

"to be honest, i would," mingyu disagrees. "because i know that staying away from you would kill me. if you ever decide to come back into my life, i'll welcome you with open arms. i'd rather be hurt with you by my side than die a slow death without you."

"you're so sappy," you roll your eyes. "i hope you know that i won't forgive you that easily."

"i told you, i'd spend all my life making it up to you if i ever hurt you," he vows. "what we have is true love, y/n. it only comes around once. i'll be damned if i ever lose you."

in that moment, you hadn't thought much about mingyu's words. but little did you know, that somewhere down the line, mingyu would really keep his promise to win your trust back.

—

it's been eight months since mingyu crashed into your life all over again, and this time around, you've really taken things slow.

he's still working on gaining your trust back, which you appreciate, because it assures you that he truly means his apology and that he's here to stay.

this time around, you feel hopeful. maybe, if your heart heals, you'll try again. you love him too much not to at least try once more.

on a tuesday evening, just as you reach home from work, you get a text.

. . .

mingyu (7:15 p.m.) :

you free friday evening?

you (7:37 p.m.) :

yeah i am

why?

mingyu (7:38 p.m.) :

i have an exhibition for my photos on that day

it wouldnt feel right without you there

you (7:50 p.m.) :

i'll be there

mingyu (7:51 p.m.) :

thank you :)

. . .

—

the exhibition gallery is packed with people as you walk into it on friday evening. you feel a little overdressed in your wine red, knee-length dress amidst a crowd of people wearing sweatshirts and jeans.

still, you walk forward confidently, you find yourself getting captivated by the sheer magnitude of the exhibition.

there's large displays of streets in different cities bathed in the warm light of the moon, birds soaring in the sky, random people going about their daily lives, and so many small, unseen moments that mingyu always had the knack for capturing.

the composition of all the photographs makes you stare at them in awe. mingyu is extremely observant, which allows him to focus on the finer details others would skip over. paired with meticulous editing, the final photographs are nothing short of stunning.

you spend a lot of time with each frame, reading the captions mingyu has penned down for each of them. you're so engrossed in each picture that you don't even realize that the crowd in the gallery has come to a stop in front of one particular frame.

you try your best to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of the photo, but to no avail. finally, when some of the crowd clears out, you move closer, and then the world stops.

it's the picture you tried to throw out but ended up keeping it on your nightstand. it's the picture you had received in a package from mingyu when he was away.

it was the last picture he had taken of you.

tears pool in your eyes rather quickly, and you walk closer to the picture of you displayed on the wall. it's huge in size, bigger than all the photos, as if this is the one mingyu wanted everyone to see. the one mingyu loved the most.

and it's titled — her.

'the last photo of this exhibit is a picture i clicked of my muse. before her, photography never had an end goal for me. all i did was click pictures of whatever i saw. after her, i began looking for pieces of her in every sight i took in. i tried to capture the warmth of her smile, depth of her love, glow of her presence, and the special feeling she stirs in me. everywhere i go, i find a glimpse of her, and every picture i take till my last breath, she will be the inspiration behind it.'

there's the sound of a mic coming to life, and you whirl around to see a tall figure standing on stage.

he's dressed in a pressed black shirt and slacks, the sleeves rolled up, hair parted to perfection, and posture confident.

but only you can find a glimpse of fear in his eyes.

it melts away when they meet yours.

"good evening everyone, my name is kim mingyu, and i would like to thank all of you for attending my exhibition," he speaks into the mic, and the crowd bursts into loud applause.

"as you all know, photography is not only my career, but my passion. it's what i live for. last year, however, was a rough patch for me. i lost all interest in photography. i hadn't touched my camera in months. it was like the colors of the world had faded away," his voice, although confident, sounds a bit shaky. his eyes are still locked onto yours, almost as if every word’s meant only for you.

"people told me that it was normal to feel that way. maybe it was burnout, or maybe the reality that photography was just a hobby. but, only i knew the real reason all along. all artists have a muse, without which it becomes difficult to breathe life into their art. i too have a muse. she is the reason i'm here today and able to show you what i've done."

"last year, i went into a slump because she left my life. it was my fault; i was too caught up in the lens of my camera to notice that i was hurting her," mingyu's voice is strained and raspy, and you know that tone all too well. sure enough, his eyes are glassy with unshed tears, but he powers on.

"for that one year without her, i lost all my drive and creativity. i couldn't look for the details in nature because my vision felt blurry. it felt like she had taken a part of me with her when she left. by some stroke of luck, i found her again. and this may sound cliche, but, the second i saw her, it felt like the world existed in technicolor again."

"she's here tonight, even though i don't deserve it, even after everything i put her through, and this time, i want to show her that i've changed. that i don't care about all these pictures, not if i don't see her in them. that one day, if she'll ever forgive me, if she'll ever give me another chance, i won't let her down."

you're sure that your makeup is ruined by how much you're crying, and there's a few tears streaming down mingyu's face too. the crowd is muttering sadly, wondering who the girl could be, but no one in that room will ever know that it's you.

"my muse, this exhibition is my whole heart, and tonight, i give it to you. you can take your time to accept it, i'd wait a lifetime for you anyway. and to everyone who attended, thank you once again."

as mingyu steps off the stage, you can only hope he doesn’t notice you slipping out of the gallery and into the cold night.

—

when you hear the door to the terrace you snuck into open, you think that it’s a security guard telling you the location is off-limits.

you turn around to apologize, but your breath catches in your throat when you see mingyu standing there, tear tracks similar to yours glistening under the pale moonlight.

“mingyu, i-”

“i thought you left,” he chokes out, and your heart squeezes uncomfortably. “you were there the entire time i was speaking, but then you were gone, and i thought that it was done for good. i thought it was the last time i’d see you, and i felt so scared.”

you can see how his chest is heaving, and his shoulders are lined with tension. there’s this urge in you to close the gap between you two so that you can take that stress away.

“i’m sorry, i should’ve told you before i left,” you gulp nervously. “i just- i needed some air.”

“i’m sorry too, for springing all that on you,” mingyu says. “i just had to tell you everything, even if you wouldn’t forgive me at the end of it all.”

“did you mean everything you said tonight?” your voice is quiet, almost as if you're hoping mingyu won't hear you and your words will disappear into the air.

“of course i did,” mingyu replies without skipping a beat. “everything i did before you and after you has no meaning, because you weren't there. our love was what inspired me the most. it's the truth, y/n.”

you take a moment to process his words, letting the weight of them fully land on you. seeing you go silent, mingyu steps forward, his eyes searching yours.

“if i- if i asked for you to forgive me, for you to give me a second chance, would you say yes?”

you already know the answer, but you bite your tongue to stop yourself from blurting it out. you pretend to think about it, as if mingyu can't read your expression. 

“i never stopped loving you,” is what you say. “even when we weren't talking for a whole year after the photography trip. even after we broke up. even now, after you came back into my life. i've never stopped loving you, mingyu, but you're still the person who broke my heart.”

you can sense mingyu about to apologize again, so you bring your hand up to stop him.

“you're the one who broke my heart, but you're also the one my heart wants. the only one,” letting these words out makes the burden on your shoulders feel lighter, but the tension of the moment still remains heavy. “and that's what scares me. because even if you break my heart again, i'll still love you. i don't think i know how not to.”

“i won't, y/n,” mingyu shakes his head. “i won't make that mistake again. i just want to earn your trust again and show you that i'll be better to you. we can take it slow and figure things out, but-”

“fuck taking things slow,” you cut him off. at some point during the whole conversation, your bodies have gravitated towards each other, and mingyu is close enough for you to reach out and cover his mouth with a hand.

“it doesn't matter if we go slow or fast, i just want you,” you tell him, looking into his eyes so he knows that you're speaking the truth. “i want us to work out this time.”

mingyu's eyes widen with surprise, and he gingerly lifts your hand off his mouth.

“do you really mean that?” his voice trembling.

“i forgave you a long time ago, mingyu,” you let out a laugh, eyes welling up with tears. “i forgave you when you paid for wrecking my rear bumper. again. i just needed time to know that this was real. that we wouldn't crash and burn again. and tonight really sealed it for me. i could see it in your pictures, mingyu. i could see how much love you look at the world with. back then, i thought that your love for photography was more than what you felt for me, but now i know that it's not true.”

“my love for you is what makes me love capturing the world in my lens,” mingyu completes. “i'm sorry i had made you feel otherwise.”

“we're done with the apologies now,” you shake your head. “let's leave the past in the past and start afresh. does that sound good?”

“i guess i'll have to crash your car one more time, then,” mingyu jokes, and you laugh. this time it's a loud, genuine sound; one mingyu had missed hearing. one you had missed hearing.

“maybe let's find a less destructive way?” you giggle, but it quickly turns into a gasp when mingyu cups your face with his hands. 

“as long as it's with you, i don't mind anything,” mingyu says, and then you see it.

a look of sincerity and hope flashing across his face. you know it for sure, because you feel the exact same way.

mingyu's eyes flick down to look at your lips, still hesitating to make a move.

“just kiss me already,” you sigh, and mingyu doesn't waste another second. with one swift movement, he's swooping you in for a kiss. a kiss so soft, yet so deep, it makes you feel like you're floating amongst the stars in the night sky looking down at love blossoming again.

when mingyu pulls away, you're both breathless for a few minutes, the reality of the moment sinking in.

the moment doesn't need any more words or touches. you can see everything you need to know in his eyes, and you hope he can read yours too.

its unmistakable; the glimpse of love that you see in him.

you feel yourself falling all over again, hurtling towards an end that may catch you by surprise, but this time it doesn't feel daunting.

not when you know that mingyu will be there to catch you.

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[lizard-ratt]

NOTE: this is all steam of consciousness, minimal editing and proof reading, not to be taken seriously. Cool, thanks, enjoy.

WC: 2,288

Steve, in all honesty, should have seen this coming. Really, it was staring him right in the face, if he was just brave enough or smart enough to figure it out.

Eddie Munson was his soulmate.

Since he was young, his parents held a particular distaste for his soulmates. Soulmates, plural. Having read every last word scrawled across his skin, they decided the two people he was bound to for eternity were everything they stood against.

For years, they told him that he was to avoid his soulmates at all costs. “They’re just not right for you,” they said. “We’re just looking out for you.” Then they had nothing to say about them at all, too busy with their business trips to France, Germany, Costa Rica, and wherever else they went to.

Steve decided everything they taught him was bullshit anyway.

He met his first soulmate on accident. Robin Buckley. Assigned to a group project with her in Mrs. Click’s class, he couldn’t get a single word out before she just started to talk. He recognized the words immediately. Could’ve recited them in his sleep.

He glanced down at his watch and waited.

Eventually she petered out and the finished the essay tattooed across his chest. He glanced down at his watch again, ran the numbers and spoke.

“Three minutes and forty-two seconds. Impressive.”

Robin’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “No. No way.”

“I’m sorry, do you need more proof. Perhaps the three page thesis you tattooed across my chest?” Snark came naturally. Probably for the best that he wasn’t on his best behavior. Cause then he’d be lying to his soulmate. Robin needed to know her soulmate was a bitch. Cause he was a bitch.

Robin snorted, but it came out a bit forced. “Thesis, big word for you.”

“You’re avoiding the point,” he prodded.

“I need to process.” Steve could understand that. He accepted it with grace and they moved on to their assignment.

Robin, as Steve found out quickly, was fun. Bitchy in the way Steve was bitchy. They traded barbs and poked and prodded at each other like they’d been doing it their whole lives. Neither of them mentioned the whole soulmate thing.

By Robin’s request, they kept their friendship quiet, for the most part. He was well known and brought a lot of attention wherever he went, and Carol and Tommy probably wouldn’t take too kindly to Steve hanging out with a Band Nerd. That was fine with him. In his opinion, they weren’t good enough for Robin anyway.

One month into their friendship, Robin told Steve that she wasn’t ever going to be interested in him romantically. Told him about Tammy Thompson.

It didn’t shock him as much as it probably should have. It wasn’t like he knew, but it just felt right. Like a puzzle piece clicking into place. Robin wasn’t meant to be his romantic with him. Platonic Soulmates.

“Tammy Thompson’s great and all but she’s a total dud,” he told her.

“She is not!”

“She is! She wants to be a singer. She wants to move to Nashville and shit.”

“She has dreams!”

“She can’t even hold a tune!”

The relief is pouring off of Robin in waves, thick in the air, practically a physical sensation. Robin had looked so scared, like Steve could ever not want Robin in his life.

Later, after they sang Total Eclipse of the Heart together, Robin told him about her other soulmate. Said that she had another one. A simple two words scrawled on her wrist. Robin, right?

“I’ll show you my other soul mark later,” he promised her, in response. “I don’t really feel like taking off my shirt right now.”

About two months into their friendship, Steve showed Robin his other soumark. Lounging in his backyard, he took of his shirt and showed her. First, the giant block of text across his front, her words etched permanently on his skin. Then, he turned around and showed her his back, the other three page thesis tattooed to his body permanently.

“…. Oh. Oh no.”

Steve appreciated the real effort she put into not laughing. It lasted a whole ten seconds before the dam burst and she was in tears.

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up.”

“You are so unlucky!” She got in between wheezes of laughter. “You don’t have any torso left!”

“You think I don’t know this?”

She quieted down, before the laughter started up again. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I just imagined little baby Steve covered front to back with his soulmates’ first words to him.”

“I’m pretty sure I have a picture of myself somewhere…” he trailed off, forcing his grin off his face.

She zeroed in on Steve, like a shark smelling blood in the water. “I have to see it.”

“What’ll you give me for it?” He asked.

“I’ll bake you a cake,” she offered.

“You’re terrible at baking. Try again.”

“I’ll get my mom to make you a cake.” He considered it. Her mother was a fantastic baker.

“Better, but still no.”

“I’ll get Mom to bake you her secret brownies.” That one almost broke him. Those brownies had to have cocaine in them or something, because they were the best thing he’d ever placed on his tongue, but he knew he could still get something better from her.

“Better….”

“I’ll give you my family’s brownie recipe.”

“Sold!” He put on his best impression of an Auctioneer. “You bring me your mother’s Brownie recipe and I will hand over not one but two photos of me as a baby with my Soul Tattoos on display.”

They sealed it with a handshake.

For a few years after that, he didn’t think about soulmates.

He started to date Nancy Wheeler, despite not being each others’ soulmates. They worked, in Steve’s opinion. Then Barb vanished from his house, and he found out that Jonathan Byers took photos not only if the party but of Nancy getting undressed.

He probably should’ve felt guiltier about breaking his camera, but he just didn’t. He told Robin about it, though. She agreed with him that it was creepy, so it eased some of his concern.

Then later, he found Nancy and Jonathan in her bedroom and felt his heart plummet. He ran to Robin as quickly as possible and spent a little bit too long eating ice cream and listening to sad music while crying about how unfair life was, content to break up with Nancy and move on.

Tommy and Carol saw that as the coward’s way out and took it upon themselves to publicly shame Nancy Wheeler.

He ended up in a fist fight with Tommy (got his ass beat) and spent about thirty minutes cleaning off the spray paint from the Movie theater’s Marquee with Robin shouting encouragement.

They later went to apologize for Tommy and Carol’s behavior and all Hell broke loose. He and Robin, he decided, made a pretty good monster hunting team

Things kinda sped up after that.

He and Robin got all their information from Nancy and Jonathan who were, surprise, surprise, soulmates! (They swore up and down the wall that they didn’t do anything and planned to tell Steve, which he believed). They explained the alternate dimension and the monsters inside. A little girl with superpowers who sacrificed herself to kill the Demogorgon.

Steve and Robin went back to his house, laid down, and stayed there for a long time.

For a year, it was just those four. Robin, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan. He didn’t talk to Tommy and Carol, and let his social standing slip away from him. The four of them fit together. They were jumpy and anxious and any flicker of the lights made them all stiffen, waiting for something Other to crawl from the walls.

It never did.

A year passed in a blur of anxiety and paranoia. He and Robin spent most of their time in each other’s back pockets, never too far from each other. Too worried that it wasn’t as over as everyone claimed.

Then, Jonathan and Nancy vanished with no warning. They had been shifty for a little bit prior to their sudden departure. Going quiet when certain topics came up, giving each other meaningful looks.

He and Robin went to the Wheeler house already positive they weren’t there.

They ran into Dustin Henderson instead.

If asked, later, what happened, exactly, he wouldn’t be able to tell you any specific details. Robin would be his go to whenever he had questions about everything, as she seemed to remember everything in high definition. What he did know is that he threw himself in front of a whole bunch of middle schoolers (and Robin) not once, not twice, but three times. In the process he got himself concussed and nearly mauled by a bunch of Demodogs, while wrapping himself around little Dustin Henderson.

After that, Dustin attached himself to Steve’s side like a barnacle and brought his friends (Lucas, Will, Mike, Max, and El) with him. Steve was okay with that.

He helped Dustin with his hair and gave him a ride to the Snow Ball. He gave the kids rides everywhere and hosted sleepovers and filled the silence with their noise. It settled something that Steve wasn’t even aware needed settling.

He graduated and when his parents didn’t show up, everyone else did. Nancy and Jonathan and the Party, and Mrs. Byers and Hopper. And Robin, playing with the band.

He didn’t make it into college, not that he tried all that hard. Officially, he got cut off, not that it mattered to him all that much. He saved up, stowing away cash whenever he could. Saving the Hush money, and allowance money, and lifeguard money. He was, for a while at least, fine. He still got a job, and Robin was right there with him, applying to Scoops Ahoy.

Dustin left before he could see their uniforms, and he expressed great disappointment in this. Steve promised him free ice cream for when he got back.

The Uniform was… ridiculous. They looked stupid and felt it, too. It got them money and kept them busy, and it was all fine. Even as he got covered in melted ice cream, and cleaned up kids vomit and got yelled at by kids parents, it was all fine because he had Robin.

The Party visited often, taking full advantage of his employee discount and the hall behind scoops that led direct to the theater. At least one of them thanked him each time (Will. Will never forgot his manners).

Then Dustin came home and shit hit the fan again.

Russian Code, hidden Bunker, child endangerment, and more!

More that he didn’t want to talk about let alone think about. More, like the questions, demanding he tell them what they wanted to hear. More, like the fists, like the broken bones and blood and pain. More, like the pleading, begging for mercy. Screaming. Crying. More, like everything that came after.

If Robin and him were inseparable before, they were practically conjoined twins after. After the mall blew sky high and Hopper died, and half of their group left to move to California. They had each other, and that would have to be enough.

Dustin Henderson first mentioned Eddie Munson about two days after his first day of Senior Year and already, Steve was regretting the fact that he still had most of his hearing on his right side. He was able to make his first joke about it, a few hours later. ("Do you think if I ask the Russian's nicely, they'll take away the rest of my hearing so I don't have to listen to Dustin's hero worship of Eddie Munson?") The look Robin gave him was a mixture of so many emotions, he nearly apologized before she burst out into hysterical laughter.

It didn't stop there. It only got louder and louder, the more Dustin got to know the guy.

From all the stories, it should have clicked in his mind, then, that the words tattooed across his back could come from none other than the 'Best Dungeon Master in Indiana'.

He first spoke to Eddie on a random Hellfire night, when he was picking up Mike, Dustin, and Lucas. In a near perfect repeat of the first words he traded with Robin, Eddie spoke before Steve could.

"If it isn't King Steve," he began. Steve stole a quick glance at his watch and he waited for the theatrical monologue to play out before him. Some things of note in the monologue included: scathing critiques of capitalism, scathing critiques of putting people into boxes, comments about the 'Little Sheep' that Eddie had taken under his wing and their supposed hero worship of Steve.

It was strange, listening to him talk. Like puzzle pieces falling into place. One of the first mysteries of Steve's life, and it was all coming together before him. Context finally provided for some, frankly, insane sentences.

Finally, Eddie wore himself out and stared at Steve expectantly. Steve stole a glance at his watch, did the metal calculations, and announced loudly, "You spoke at me for four minutes and two seconds. That is impressive."

Eddie's eyes bugged out of his skull, as did the other members of Hellfire that Steve could never remember the names of.

"There is no way..." one of them muttered. The one with the halo of curly hair in the flannel.

Steve turned and lifted his shirt to show the veritable wall of text tattooed to his back. Shoulder to shoulder, neck to hip, he was covered. He heard a sharp inhale of breath, before he dropped the shirt and turned back.

"Surprise?"

Steddie soulmate first words are fun and all but Eddie Munson will forever be a dramatic motherfucker, Steve has a full 3 page essay scrawled over his back about the dangers of capitalism and his dad hates it, you think Eddie would get the chance to speak to the Steve Harrington and wouldn't milk it for the most Shakespeare worthy performance you've ever seen in your goddamn life

Bonus points, Robin is his platonic soulmate and she'll ramble till the sun goes down so steve just has no space left on his body by the time those two are finished

[ditzydoe444]

Ok now I need hybrid reader getting fucked by Bruce and dick behind Jason’s back but Jason can smell them on her and he takes her to remind her who belongs to then goes off on Bruce and dick lmao

MDNI 18+

cw: hybrid puppy reader mentions of ears and tails

the moment jason stepped into his shared room with you he could sense something was off. maybe it was the way the bed was a mess, pillows thrown onto the floor, blankets falling into a mess and your limp body asleep.

however, due to your heightened senses and ability to track him down your body instinctively rose from your slumber, your eyes wide seeing him. “jacey!” you beamed, jumping into your arms like you weren’t knocked out sleep a few seconds before.

you smelt different.

he frowned, his brows narrowing as he observed your body in your tiny skimpy shorts that barely concealed anything. “what were you up to when i was away darlin’?”

you grinned, your pearly whites shining, “oh nothing,” you beamed shyly a faint blush on your cheeks as you avoided eye contact. you were hiding something.

jason’s strong hands gripped your chin, forcing you to stare at him.

“what did you do?”

he watched as your face flushed even more. “dick and bruce paid a visit,” you mumbled barely audible as your fluffy ears drooped down. “and?” his voice now stern.

“i didn’t mean it!” your voice high pitched whilst your eyes stared at him pleadingly.

“i was just so hot and bothered an-”

“and what?” his gaze cold, he already knew what happened but he wanted it to come out of your mouth first.

“i was horny and they fucked me,” you mumbled softly.

he nodded, “i knew the moment i smelt you pup,” his voice cold as he stared into your wide puppy eyes.

“i’m sorry jacey! i promise it won’t happen again!” you pleaded, eyes wide and filled with tears at the thought of losing him.

**

jason made sure it wouldn’t happen again, as he was balls deep inside you, making the flimsy bed creak as you whined and writhed underneath him.

“jacey!”

“shut it pup, you need to learn your fucking lesson,” his thrusts were harsh and mean, bullying your sweet spots whilst your gummy walls squeezed him tightly. “need you to know who you belong to and not get your holes filled by anyone that spares you a glance alright?”

“ok jacey!” you whined loudly as you barely took him in, choking on your own saliva.

“might need to get you a collar hm? to show people you’re mine only so you don’t go humping them like a dog in heat.”

he watched as a white ring was formed on the bae of his cock, how your arousal dripped down to his pubes. “jacey jacey,” you mumbled like a mantra, eyes rolling back as you got closer to your edge.

“alright sweet thing, i’ll let you come only if you don’t go bouncin’ on other guys dicks alright? if i find out i’ll edge you so god damn much.”

“promise jacey! i’ll be good!” you yelped as your body bounced with his harsh moments. sweat glistened on your soft body whilst your pupils were dilated, mouth hung open pathetically.

**

jason gave dick and bruce a stern warning, the two clearly did not care. “she came and started humping on my thigh, naked how could i say no?” dick shrugged as he mentally relieved the memory.

the way your fluffy tail seemed to wag seeing two attractive men was a dead give away, and the smell of your arousal filled their nostrils when they saw you. “yeah well she’s fucking mine, so don’t go fucking her alright?” jason narrowed his eyes at the two.

“just make sure she’s not humpin’ us first then we have a deal,” bruce grumbled lowly his pants straining near his crotch just discussing about fucking you.

[tigerpearlsworld]

Pick a card...

Your appeal vs your true self

Before you chose the cards know that this is a general pick a card. There are infinite energies in the universe and the energies if align with your stars will guide you to my reading. So, welcome. Know that you can only chose one card. This pick a card is meant for your soul not for you to resonate but for you to realize when you get the message and truth in time. To pick a card you must follow your hearts tug and instinct and look deep within each image something about yourself rather than what you want it to be Breathe in and Breathe out, light a candle/ incense, meditate to the beating of your heart and let every thoughts come through and accept what is coming in your heart and then light and form a picture in your heart as you close your eyes and meditate in yourself. After that when you open your eyes choose the image where your heart calls for the most and remember your heart is your guide not your brain so.....

Sorry if my english is bad.

To those who stumble across my reading i pray to the stars to bless you with pure energy and strength.

Choose the pile:

The reading starts...

Pile 1:

The Vibes i get from this pile : Like a Ocean

Cards: (Page of pentacles, Page of wands, 6 of wands, The emperor)

Your appeal:

First of all the appeal you guys have is of both practicality and passion, Beauty and distance, warmth and silence. This are the contradicting things of how you are perceived as. Your natural appeal is of curiosity to learn, its also about devoting yourself to do the routine work which you had promised without any lack. People may find your nature very practical and sometimes dull when you are in your work mode. But when you get back to your creative self i see you charming anyone without any effort. Also there is a certain shy awkward confidence which i don't understand but its coming like that to me. I see you are very likeable due to your nature of not being so dominant. Your appeal to the opposite gender may even be of seductive allure and submissiveness although that may not be your intention. I also see in nature your appeal has a lot to do with your creative sense and fashion. Some of you may even be a tattoo/henna artist i also see fashion designer. Your appeal can be equated with vines its delicate, its intricate and so different yet its so far out of reach and so creative in its climbing ability to get the light.

Your true self:

Like i said in the beginning of the reading your vibes which the stars are whispering are of ocean. You have a depth in your soul like the ocean. You have a beauty about you which is free flowing like water. You can never be chained to anything or anyone yet when you are devoted no one can outrank you in your devotion. I see a bigger than life attitude in your soul. You want experiences or relationships or achievements which gives you satisfaction in a universal way. Your love is like the ocean, it doesn't have any impurities its like a Childs love. And also there is a lot of creative talents and skills which you have with you but you only display those gifts in silence with your friends and family. I see you are a person who is open but there is a very intriguing mystery and coldness which no one can pinpoint not even the people who are in a relationship with you can understand this nature of yours. I see in contrast to how people perceive you as passive or submissive inside you are filled with confidence, dominance and stubborn energy. I also see in your true self you are someone who is very sensitive and aware yet conscious of your actions you display in front of others. Some can say you have this quality about you where you hide your true feelings and thoughts behind your actions. In your truest self no matter what life throws at you but you have this inherent flame or amber inside you which never lets you give up. There is also this sense of war which keeps happening in your life or maybe inside you, its very dramatic the choices. I also see you can also be a spiritual person who does witchcraft, Tarot reading or is interested in gothic things. I also sense there is something about mermaids coming in maybe when you were a child you wanted to be a mermaid. But in your true self i definitely sense you feel more connected with water and you feel more at peace when you are near water. In the future you may even have a house or build a house near the sea or any waterbodies. In your trueself i sense when you work hard on yourself the most or you work at something with true intention without any malice i see you get more results. I also see you have a life of pain where you always had to devote yourself to either your mom or dad or husband in every choice of life no wonder it said life for you is like a dramatic choice and of war. I also see in your true self that you are someone who may not like to tell a lie. your honesty is something dangerous. I see its hard for you to even tell white lies its not like you can't

say because you most certainly can even deceive but you will feel unclean afterwards in your heart and soul. there is also expectance you have from others to be honest which always leads to disappointment. I also sense you can be harsh and very judgmental in times to people who lies to you or maybe you just feel something is off. I see in your true self you are someone who once doing a task or devoting to something/someone can't be shooked easily, you are like a mountain than tall and cruel who wont let anything interfere or come between you and your goal. Even though im telling your vibes are like the ocean but its like the ocean which churns fire and sparks.

Before i even begin the reading this song was being repeated in my head. This may have some messages or something which means something to you.

Pile 2:

The Vibes i get from this pile : Intense Duality

Cards: (The chariot, 4 of swords, The devil, Page of cups)

Your appeal:

I sense in your appeal there is a yin and yang energy. Its like you have two souls inside you which people may not be aware of. I sense your appeal to people sometimes can be scary other times it can be

awkward. People may think you have this boring life about you until they find this rough and scary energy that you possess and also may think that your interest are very alien or very weird. Your appeal to some people even though you may not try but is very intimidating. I sense you may get judged alot quicker than others or people may just try to defend you more especially your peers but no one truly understands you. TBH.

I also sense in your appeal some people may find think you are very discipline and hard to approach and sometimes people may even claim you are controlling or dominating in some ways. In another aspect i sense you appeal can be sort of 'Rest' where people may think you have this easing quality to you like if they are angry and if they talk to you for some reason they may feel more calm and collected.

I sense in your appeal there is something very taboo like something very scary even BDSM like which for some is very intriguing but for others very horrifying. I sense your appeal is like a blue fire

very warm but also very hot which can be like moth to a flame for many people even people from your own gender may be attracted to you but like i said this burning flame keeps long lasting relationship away from you. I see your partners may either get insecure by you or intimidated by you. There is a duality like very bipolar kind of energy to you. I don't know why but some of you may have some Autism, Epilepsy, OCD, ADHD or Bipolar disorder of some kind its really random but im getting the message. the stars are saying to be easy on yourself. And if im being honest your energy is a mess i really cant read it its so mixed.

Your true self:

Now coming to who you are i see that inside you're someone who is very in tune with nature and the universe. I see when you were a child that you may had this idea about being a mage or were just very curious about the abilities to control the weather and rain. its very random i know. um.. i also see you i know again its very random but you had a foot injury or you have a very strong feet.

In your true self i sense there is something very divided like very bipolar in one hand you are someone who is very intense with your thoughts, like you can pierce and find out any information about anyone. But on the other hand you are someone who likes to keep their peace. I sense sometimes you may just get certain information out of no where or you may even get outer body experience during your sleep. I sense you have very sensitive ears and to calm your anxieties and paranoia you may keep your headphones on even when you're out or sleeping. I see that in your true self you are someone who is very misunderstood. I see that in relationship when you give advice to your partner with goodwill they often ignore or just ridicule your advice but i see that in time what you say comes to fruition like a prediction truly. I see that in your soul you are someone who likes to do things in a rhythm, life is a rhythm to you and you like to march on your own beat. I see that in one period of your life you may had shaved your head or you may have been very boyish in your appearance or the way you just dressed. In your true self i see you are a counsellor who has this ability to understand people from every stage of life no matter if you are young or old. I see that your self literally can connect anything in life be it information, energy, people, theories or music. i sense that you are very old soul and you may have a very mature opinions and ways of thinking than the people of your age. I sense that inside you are someone who on one hand is very childlike, innocent and idealistic but on the other side you're also very dark and in conflict with your own feelings. I sense that you may be interested in things which people may find disturbing.

This is very peculiar but only for you two songs came in my head together now you may take it as a message or a sign its up to you....

Pile 3:

The Vibes i get from this pile : Purity

Cards: (The Empress, Ace of swords, 7 of pentacles, knight of pentacles, King of swords)

Your appeal:

I see people have this image of you where they want you for what they idolize you as not for who you are. I see people looking at you as someone who is very alluring and seductive. They feel this compulsion towards you like there is something very magnetic about you. At first people may feel you are weird but later on i see people tend to want to coddle you. I sense people's appeal towards you is of fantasy where they fantasize you in different ways in their head. I also sense people feels there is a disconnect in understanding you as they feel your way of communication or expression is very odd/alien like. Your appeal also come off as someone who is very self contained and people may feel that you're someone who is very unattached to things which people find precious or normal in society so they may misunderstand you or not understand you at all. Sometimes your peers may also feel that you're the oddball of the group and that you have this habit of talking with yourself alone or even when you're in a group. I see they look at you as something which is very sacred and soft but also fierce. I see people tend to forgive you easily too. There is a fluidity to your allure and energy which attracts everyone and makes them question about themselves. I sense people want to do things for you and that your appeal is of someone who is very likeable to everyone of every age its like you're a chameleon which can mold and be anything what the person or the situation wants you to be.

Your true self:

For your true self i see you're someone who is magical. yes. I see that you're someone who although may seem weird and odd but i see that in your truest self you're the most observant and creative. I see that in soul you're a natural introvert. I also sense that even if you have different shape of eyes can be siren, doe, almond, round or downward looking eye i see there is something very dreamy and soft about it which cannot be describe its very ethereal tbh. In your truest self i also see you as someone who fits in this saying of "work smart not hard" You can be lazy too but you get your work done. I also see you don't typically get emotionally attach to people but when it does happen its gets real deep like your love can be compared to the bottom of the ocean, Unknown, dark and all consuming. For the girlies who are reading this i feel like you really don't need a man you're someone who wants something more than just relationship in life. You want the most purest and the most broadest form of love. There is also something very unbothered about you where you may not care what others have to say about how you are... like as long as people who you care about likes what you wear you can give less shiz about others its the truth. There is this quality to you like a switch in you where you can pull your sweet side like a angel or a dark side like Satan for real!!!

I'm also sensing that you will have a rags to riches path in your life. I also sense that even though in your appeal people may conclude you as like a kid who doesn't understands anything but in your truest self you are not even close to what they think or feel about you. You are someone who has this uncanny ability to read people and understand situations. I also sense there is a natural pull towards art, jazz and in abstract things. I also sense there is this dormant feeling inside you where you may empathize more with the villains because of how your truest self feels so different from everyone or may even like characters like Joker. I also sense someone of you may had substance or mental health issues. I also sense that in your truest form you are an advocate for animals and you are someone who likes animal and children a lot. I sense for this group in particular either some of may you lean towards being a celebate or indulging in that pleasure and this i am talking from an extreme angel. I also sense that even though you are kind and understanding but those qualities are often overlooked and that i also feel that sometimes you feel this compulsion inside you to be the person which people paints you to be just for the fun of it. I also see you may like to do or act in a way which surprises people. I also sense some of you have problems like ADHD or insomnia. And in your truest self i see you as someone who overcomes every challenge given your way.

This song was came to me when i was channeling your energy:

[watermelonlovershigh]

can you please write something about reader maybe finding harry's stash of sex toys. maybe he uses them during solo play but she doesn't know about that because they're new to dating and he hasn't shared that with her because he's scared she'll judge him. but when she finds them she has a million thoughts running in her head. not knowing if they were for him or if he uses them on other people. with a cute ending of her being super cool with him using sex toys and doesn't judge him.

Finding Harry's Secret Stash of Sex Toys (SMUT)

AN: love, love, love this idea! it was fun to write. i may, key word, MAY write a part 2 to this. no promises though. keep in mind any mentions of sexuality is purely fictional and not real. hope you all enjoy and don't forget to leave your feedback.

This story contains: periods, mentions of sex toys, sex, confrontation, anxiety, comfort, mentions of sexuality, fluff

{ boyfriend!harry - softrry - au!harry - bi!harry }

word count- 1,744

While searching Harry's bathroom drawers for a period product, you discover his stash of sex toys. After waiting about a week, you confront him with all the questions you have about your discovery.

You and Harry have been together for nearly two months. During this time, you've become well-acquainted with each other; however, they're still certain things that you don't know about one another. This isn't due to any effort in hiding information, but rather because those specific matters haven't yet been relevant in any of your discussions.

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

It's a Friday night, and you're at Harry's house for the evening. He had purchased a pizza, and the two of you were comfortably seated in his living room, savoring the pizza and sipping on wine. About an hour after eating, while watching a film, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. In the bathroom, you realize your periods started and you didn't have any period products with you.

Knowing Harry is a mature adult, you promptly step out of his downstairs bathroom and make your way back to the living room to ask if he by chance had anything for you to use. Otherwise, you'll have to go to the twenty-four hour shop down the street. "Um Harry, do you have a pad or tampon I could use? I’ve just started my period and forgot to bring anything." You linger there, feeling somewhat awkward as you await his answer.

Harry turns to you and replies with a gentle smile, "Yeah, of course. You can go to my bathroom upstairs and look in one of the drawers by the sink. I generally keep period products there for when I have female visitors." God created men, and then he created Harry as an apology, you conclude. He's so fucking thoughtful.

With a sigh of relief, you respond, "Thank you. I'll be quick." You hurry up the stairs and proceed to his bathroom with urgency, fully aware that you're currently free bleeding. Upon entering, you close the door and search through the drawers of his vanity to locate the pads and tampons.

The first drawer you open is filled with floss picks and an electric razor. The second drawer holds additional rolls of toilet paper. However, as you open the third drawer, you're met with an unexpected sight that leaves you speechless. You were hoping to find something to assist your period, but instead, you come across a selection of dildos and butt plugs. When you finally open the fourth drawer, you let out a sigh of relief upon finding the items you'd been searching for.

You take a tampon out and make your way to the toilet to insert it. After you're done, you wash your hands and let your thoughts return to the drawer that's filled with sex toys. Harry has never mentioned having any of these types of items. Despite the many times you've had sex, he's never proposed the idea of incorporating sex toys into the mix. Perhaps, he uses them for his own pleasure, or he might enjoy using them on partners. But if that's the case, why hasn't he brought that idea up to you before?

You make your way out of the bathroom before Harry has time to become concerned and head downstairs to resume the movie together. Upon your return to his side, he asks, "Is everythin' alright?" You had a weird expression on your face that he couldn't quite place.

Trying to play off what you've just seen, you reply, "Yep, yeah, I'm fine. Let's finish the film."

For the remainder of the night, you don't bring up what you discovered in his bathroom drawer, but it never leaves your mind. If anything, you're just curious as to why he has those items. You would never judge his reasoning.

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

A week has passed since that evening you discovered Harry's drawer containing phallic-shaped items and butt plugs. You've been looking for the right moment to bring it up, which has now finally presented itself.

Currently, you're in Harry's bed, having sex. He's on top of you, pounding you into the mattress, while your hands rest on his perfectly round bum. As he begins to thrust more vigorously, your hands slowly slide closer to his crack, and when you accidentally graze his sensitive hole, Harry almost collapses on top of you.

Seeing how much pleasure it caused him, you do it again, this time with purpose. "Oh fuck!" Harry curses as you rub your fingers over his puckered rim.

Taking a deep breath, you bravely ask, "Yeah, does that feel good? Like having your tight hole played with?"

With his forehead resting against your neck, Harry affirms with a nod and softly murmurs, "uh-hu." He only confesses this because it's clear that you're open to touching him there; otherwise, he would've refrained from sharing such information due to his fear of being judged.

Eventually, you get lost in your own pleasure and forget about touching his bum. That is, until you're laid lax on the bed, muscles weak from your orgasm, with Harry laying on top of you. As you both try and catch your breaths, you bite the bullet and ask the question that's been on your mind all week.

"So.... does those toys you have in your bathroom drawer have anything to do with you liking your ass played with?" You really hope your question doesn't come off as rude or too invasive. You're genuinely curious.

Harry's body goes rigid at your question. Then he sits up slightly, looking down at you with confusion. "What?"

With a hint of anxiety in your voice, you explain, "Um, it's just, the other night, while I was looking for a tampon in your bathroom, I opened the wrong drawer and discovered several dildos and butt plugs. I was just wondering whether those items were for your personal use or you use them on other people. But just so you know, I'm not judging you in any way, just curious is all."

Harry falls back down and buries his face in your warm skin, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over him at your accidental discovery of his sex toys. He usually stores them in his closet, but after cleaning them the other day, he had set them in the drawer to dry.

In truth, Harry does enjoy anal play. Ever since he began puberty and started to explore his body, he discovered the pleasurable sensations that can come from anal stimulation. A few years later, he recognized his bisexuality, which, although not directly connected to his enjoyment of anal play, is certainly a positive in the situation.

Unfortunately, he's only had a handful of male partners. Therefore, when he's not able to experience penetration from a real cock, he frequently utilizes one of the dildos he's purchased for himself.

When he was with women, Harry typically didn't mention his liking for having his ass played with, out of concern for being judged. There were a few instances in the past where they'd end up finding out, leading to a mix of reactions—some supportive and others quite judgmental. So, he opted to keep that aspect of himself hidden and relied on his toys for when he craved anal.

Now that you're aware of his secret, he's filled with dread at the thought of your rejection. Yet, he reckons that if you willingly touched his bum during sex, that implies you're not completely against it.

With his warm breath against your neck, Harry reveals, "Um..... yes, they're mine. When I was a teenager, I realized I enjoyed havin' my bum touched. I usually keep it to myself 'cause I've been judged for it before. So....... that's why I tend to use my toys when I am alone. Sorry for not tellin' you."

The quiver in his voice stirs a sadness within you. Him revealing his anxiety about your potential judgment and the criticisms he's endured in the past breaks your heart. You tenderly hold his face and elevate his chin so he can meet your eyes. "Harry, sweetheart, I would never think less of you for liking that. I suspect many men would enjoy anal if they gave it a chance."

You take a deep breath and continue, "I do have a question, though." Harry nods for you to go ahead, so you proceed to ask, "Have you ever used your toys with your girlfriends before? Like, have they used them on you?" If he's open to the idea, you would definitely be eager to make use of his toys on him. The image of fucking him anally with one of his dildos arouses you more than you care to admit.

"There've been one or two times I shared my likin' of anal with ex's who were particularly kind and acceptin', which I appreciated. But in most cases, my partners didn't last long enough after discoverin' my interest in anal play to allow the use of toys during sex. S'also why I keep my sexuality a secret. 'Cause people can be so judgemental."

"Sexuality?" you question cautiously, allowing Harry to explain at his own pace.

"Um yeah, think I was sixteen when I realized I liked boys and girls. So I reckon m' bisexual. But I've only had two male partners. S'why I have so many toys. But I wouldn't say my sexuality has anythin' to do with my likin' for anal, just a bonus I suppose."

You hold Harry tightly in your arms, hoping to express your appreciation for his courage in confiding in you. It's clear that he feels a sense of safety in doing so.

You become aware of his current vulnerability; he's still without clothes, his soft cock positioned between your legs, your bare body surrounding him. The love you feel for Harry is so big that you struggle to find the right words. You also refrain from voicing it aloud out of fear that it may be too early in your relationship to utter such sentiments. So instead, you mummer against his ear, "Thank you for telling me, Harry."

He's on the verge of tears due to your exceptional acceptance. Harry has long struggled to find a girlfriend who fully acknowledges his sexuality and kinks. In his past relationships with boyfriends, he was often judged for his enjoyment of hetero sex, while his experiences with girlfriends led to criticism for his interest in gay sex. This constant judgment made him feel as though he could never succeed in love. However, with you by his side, there's a chance that you'll offer him the love and acceptance that he's been longing for.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

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My Masterlist Masterpost

[seungfl0wer]

*𝐼𝓃𝓉𝓇𝓊𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒*

Pairing: Vampire!Changbin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Idk what to put it as but changbin breaks in but there’s consent for the deed so. Choking, hand pinning, mentions of blood, unprotected sex, Creampie, oral(f), slight manhandling. This got some plot to it to wow- as always sorry for any mistakes or missing warnings!

This was requested from my second prompt list with the prompt 3: “Look at you”. Side note I wanted to have this out earlier but I ended up getting sick :( so sorry for the late posting it!

-🖤

It was late, you were in your bed fast asleep. The window open to let the nice summer breeze in. You could hear faint sounds of crickets chirping which only put you into a deeper sleep. Your slumber was cut short however, a big hand gripping at your throat as another pushed down your other arm.

Your eyes show open staring up at the silhouette of the man above you. He pushed your head to the side giving clear way to your neck. You tried pushing him off of you his strong legs held you in place as he grabbed your other hand. Holding them both above your head now. “Get the hell off of me!” You yelled still struggling underneath him.

“Struggling so much and for what? We both know you can’t break free.” He said with a chuckle. “Just let me have my taste of you sweetheart” he spoke again his voice coming out like honey. In the midst of everything you took notice of his long fangs he had. You knew vampires were real but you had never encountered one. At least that you knew of. “I saw you at the library, from all my years on this planet I’ve never smelled anyone like you” he said almost groaning.

“You’re- you’re a vampire?” You asked sheepishly.

“That I am sweetheart. Now just relax hm? It’ll only hurt for a second. I promise to be gentle.” He said his head now nuzzling at your neck. He took a long whiff of your skin before sinking his teeth into you. You body arched at the sharp pain only to be met with a warm feeling circulating your body. He was telling the truth, it only hurt for a split second.

He lapped at your neck making you let out an embarrassing loud moan. He chuckled against your skin before his hand ran down your body. “Look at that, no panties? You must have been expecting me hmm” he said with another chuckle. Your eyes fluttered open and close at the feeling of his touch, at his words. His fingers ghostly brushed against your folds making him groan loudly. He pulled away from your neck moving himself quickly down your body. “Fuck- look at you- you’re soaked” he said with a wild smirk.

“Shut up” you said moving yourself upwards to get away from him. He quickly grabbed your legs pulling you right back down to him “uh uh no running sweetheart, let me take care of you hm?” He said diving quickly to your core giving you no time to protest. He lapped at your folds like he did to your neck this time though it was messier. His pretty nose rubbed against your clit as he ate you out tongue darting into you. Your head fell back, fuck you’ve never had anyone eat you out like this. Like it was the only way they could live, like they needed it like they needed air. Or in his case I guess- blood.

He pushed his fingers into you pumping slowly at first finding the right speed to drive you crazy. “How does every part of you just taste so- sweet? It’s addicting.” He mumbled against your skin. Your cunt clenched around his fingers you were so close already. He curled his fingers at just the right spot as he started to suck at your clit. “Let go sweetheart, cum for me” he said eyes keeping contact with yours.

He let a small nibble to your clit making your body arch, shaking as you came hard around his fingers. Just like your neck he cleaner you up making sure to not leave any of your sweet nectar behind. “You think you can give me one more? Cum on my cock like that hm? Can you do that for me sweetheart?” He asked in that same sweet honey voice.

“And- and if I say no” you breathed out.

“Then I’ll leave, but we both know you want this just as much as I do. I’ll be gentle I promise.” He said again. You took a moment to think, were you really gonna let this guy have what he wanted? You could see from the moonlight how handsome he truly was. Soft red eyes, the sharp jaw line and oh god that body. He wasn’t the stereotypical scrawny vampire no he was buff. Those big arms would be perfect little pillows.

“Well sweetheart?” He said snapping you back to reality. “What’s your decision?”

“Fine, only on one condition” you said trying to look sternly at him.

“And what may that be?” He asked scooting closer to you.

“I think I deserve- deserve cuddles after this” you said the request making him smile. Fuck- was his smile so sweet looking.

“Of course, you’ve been so good for me I wouldn’t dream of leaving you just yet” he said moving closer to kiss you but you pulled back.

“One more thing” you said.

“That would be two conditions then” he teased. “But go on”

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Oh, how could I forget my manners I’m sorry sweetheart. I’m changbin. Seo Changbin” he said.

Your eyes went wide, the little you did know about vampires you knew that last name. They were a huge coven with many high class vampires. “Wait- seo?” You asked.

“I’ll take all your questions after sweetheart, but for now I’m going to give this sweet little cunt what she’s craving” he said running his fingers up your folds.

He got his body positioned on top of you leaning down to finally kiss you. You could hear as he did his pants hitting the floor somewhere. He moved his cock up and down your folds collecting the slick enough to glide right in. When he pushed inside of you, you were shocked. His cock was fat, the thickness stretching you out so nicely. If it wasn’t for his work earlier it probably would have hurt. When he was nestled nicely inside you he peered down at you. His eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort.

“You- you can move” you said softly. And with that he did. He started off slow and deep. His cock taking in your warm walls as it moved.

“Fuck- everything about you is just so perfect” he groaned. His movements picked up but not before he hooked your legs. Pushing them to your chest as he made himself go as deep as possible. You could feel his heavy balls smacking against your ass as he pounded into you.

“Feel- good?” He asked breathily.

“S’good- feels so good” you moaned out. Your hands reached up to him, grabbing his strong muscular arms. His eyes looked so soft like he didn’t wanna hurt you. Like you were this precious little thing to him. He took your hand into his interlocking your fingers as he let your legs fall back to the side. He moved his body down towards you kissing you passionately.

He kissed down your jaw line and almost instinctively you moved your head, revealing your neck to him. This made something in his brain short circuit. His pupils dilated becoming a bit redder a low almost growl escaped his lips. Before you knew it, he was pounding into you faster, harder and somehow deeper. His fangs found your neck once again biting at the sensitive skin.

Everything mixed together had you seeing stars, moans and cries spilled from your lips as you felt you high fast approaching. “Cum. Cum for me sweetheart- fucking cum for me” he said in that same almost growl tone. Your body arched with one final thrust you both were cumming hard. Your body shook almost violently, with such a strong orgasm.

He moved himself back to your face kissing you lovingly before pushing some hair away.

He stared at you with so much love in his eyes it made you blush. “I broke one of my number one rules” he said with a light chuckle.

“Which was?” You asked.

“I never kiss anyone during sex, almost makes it feel to loving. But. I couldn’t help it. For you I’d give all my love” he said that honey voice returning. “I’ve watched you for a while, there was just something about you that I kept getting drawn to.” He added.

He kissed your nose softly before cradling you in his arms as if it was something he’s always done. He ran a warm bath before placing you into it. “I’m sorry for being so rough at the end, it’s just you- you bared your neck to me. That’s something that we vampires see as a sign of love and trust” he admitted.

“You’re from the seo coven right?” You asked, the question that you had wanted to from earlier.

“That I am, I’m actually one of the highest heirs. A vampire born from vampires. A pure blood if you will.” He said.

“So what you’re telling me is, a royal wanted me?” You said with a smile.

“Oh sweetheart, anyone would want you. You’re perfect in so many ways” he said stroking your hair. “Now let’s get you cleaned up shall we? I think one of your conditions was cuddling hmm?” He said kissing your forehead.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

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[dameronology]

marvel guys + slow mornings

mass headcanons because i wanted to write fluff and couldn't decide who for?? yes

steve rogers

slow mornings with steve are rare; he always has to be up early for work or for missions or just to go for a run - he always makes you coffee and breakfast when he's back, though - bc it's honestly just programmed into him that he has to be up before the sun. some days, though?? some days, he just needs to lay in, and he needs to be beside you. he'll wrap his arms around you, pull you close and sleep until his heart is content (and when you're there, it always is). he'll press a kiss to your jaw before he gets up and makes hot drinks & breakfast for you both, and then he'll spend the rest of the morning watching sitcoms with you on the sofa.

sam wilson

sam LIVES for slow mornings. sundays, specifically, are his allotted rot day. that means you guys will normally stay up late on the saturday doing something more social & fun, then come the next day, you cannot get him up before midday. those mornings afternoons are just filled with cuddles, watching a movie in bed, ordering takeout and catching up with each on the week. it's sam's favourite time of the week and he always looks forward to it.

bucky barnes

like steve, relaxing is not something that comes easily to bucky. in fact, he's still not entirely sure how to do it; that's not to say you can't have slow mornings, though. if you want to wrestle bucky into blankets on the sofa with a facemask, he won't complain - although he will if you post any of the selfies you took anywhere. it was after a few of this occasions that he finally gave in to the idea of chilling out. he will pretend not to be enjoying sex & the city, but he will absolutely complain if you pause it. such a samantha.

frank castle

slow mornings are an everyday occurrence for frank purely because he is never home before 4AM. that said, being woken up with a warm cup of coffee, pancakes and bacon and cuddles from you is the highlight of his day - and if he's up before you, he'll do the same for you. on particularly slow days, frank will move your living room television into the bedroom so you can watch television.

matt murdock

good lord matt LIVES for those days where he doesn't have to wake up at a stupid time. waking up naturally and not to an alarm is his favourite thing and it's even better when you're there!! tbh he still gets up at a decent time, but when you're both shuffling about in your fluffy socks in the kitchen, grumbling tiredly and piecing together a breakfast, some coffee and trying to decide what to watch?? he could not name a better feeling

peter parker

peter will sleep until 3pm if you do not wake him up. he is naturally a heavy, long sleeper and that only increased when he started his night job too. he has to be coaxed awake - normally with a cup of tea and the promise of some cuddles - and then he's all yours.