#especially with everything he’s been through for his

[lorialia]

⋆ sweet temptation ⋆

pairing: best friend!han jisung x fem!reader

genre: smut, minors dni.

summary: you and your best friend accidentally devour an entire box of sex chocolates while watching a pirated version of the movie ponyo. now you're left to deal with the consequences.

a/n: this came about after i submitted a similar thirst for @daydreams-after-dark 's birthday month event . . . so if you're seeing this, hi :) thanks for the indirect motivation to start a skz blog and post this. i hope you all enjoy ♡

warnings: dom!hanji, sub fem!reader, accidental use of sex chocolates/aphrodisiacs, dry humping, unprotected sex, very messy and wet, creampie, pet names(baby), possessive language, multiple orgasms, technically there's no verbal consent but they're both enthusiastic

"This is bullshit. I swear it is."

“What do you mean?" Jisung says, staring at you accusingly from across the couch. His wispy black hair falls in front of his round glasses, and his fingers reach up to brush it away so he can give you a halfhearted glare. "I put Ponyo in B-tier. That means it's good."

Your nose crinkles in pure disgust, absolute horror at the dingy laptop placed on your best friend’s ottoman. The screen glitches every once in a while, but you see the brightly colored tierlist clear as day. There’s Ponyo—one of your favorite Studio Ghibli movies of all time, a masterpiece of visual art and fairytale storytelling—in B-tier. Middle of the road. Average.

“It deserves better than just good!” You insist, convinced that he has the worst taste on planet Earth. “C’mon. At least put it up a tier.”

“Next to My Neighbor Totoro? Fuck no.”

“Fuck you!”

“Woah woah woah, language,” Jisung replies cheekily, and you grumble, tipping back to sink your head into the cushions of your best friend’s couch. If he even is your best friend after this anyways.

You and Jisung have been hanging out at his apartment for hours, chatting about basically anything and everything. It’s an especially exciting night; his roommate is out visiting family for the weekend, meaning the two of you have the whole place to yourselves.

“Don’t make a mess,” Minho had said through the phone. “I don’t want to clean up once I get back home.”

So far, you’ve had halfhearted success in baking cinnamon rolls, little-to-no success cooking dinner, and full success in ordering barbeque chicken. The kitchen had barely survived through it all, but aside from an occasional utensil on the floor it’s pretty clean.

Aside from your cooking ventures, you two have taken it upon yourselves to rank all the Studio Ghibli movies on a tierlist. Some of his takes surprise you, maybe frustrate you— but none of them fill you with such rage as seeing Ponyo in B-Tier.

“When was the last time you watched this movie?” You ask, almost demand. Jisung pretends to think for a moment; his soft lips pursing together in contemplation.

“Uhh… when I was twelve.”

“Oh for fuck's sake,” You reach over to his laptop and grab it, typing furiously to find a pirated URL for the movie. “We’re watching Ponyo tonight. No buts.”

“Fine,” Jisung says, extending the ‘e’. Out of the corner of your eye you spot him picking up the empty plastic containers of your dinner. He pouts, lips jutting out exaggeratedly when he finds the tins utterly empty. “Aww man, no more food. I’ll go see if there’s any leftovers in the kitchen.”

“Okay,” You idly reply, too busy trying to bypass the stupid ad pop-ups on his computer. You mash a couple of buttons, open and close a few tabs, and boom, you’re in.

Meanwhile, Jisung has gone and returned from the kitchen. In his hands he holds a random box of chocolates that he tosses into your waiting hands. “Found these in the back of the pantry. Probably Minho’s.”

You open the cardboard flap and dig your hand inside, pulling out a rectangle-shaped chocolate wrapped in pretty red tinfoil. You don’t care to read the name—the room is too dimly lit to see anyway—and rip open the package, finding two square chocolates waiting for you.

“Huh,” You comment, holding up the two chocolate pieces. “I’ve never seen chocolates that come in twos before.”

A hand snatches one of the chocolates away and you turn to see Jisung chewing. His adams apple bobs as he swallows. “Mmm, cherry. You should try it.”

You glance at the singular square held between your fingertips, and shrug before popping it in your mouth.

An hour later, you and Jisung are curled up together watching Ponyo. From glances and little remarks here and there, he seems to be enjoying it, and thank god he does. You couldn’t stand seeing Ponyo be misplaced any longer.

During a particularly captivating underwater scene, you reach for the box of chocolates—only to find the insides empty. You blink for a moment, tearing your eyes away from the screen, and realize you and Jisung have eaten them all.

“Aww,” Your eyebrows furrow in annoyance, but you remove yourself from the pile of blankets to toss the box in the trash. Your best friend remains engrossed in the movie, only shifting to adjust his glasses.

You think to check the brand on the box before you throw it away. It would be nice to get again, after all. The chocolates tasted pretty good—

“Jisung.”

The serious tone of your voice jerks your best friend back into reality, and he hurries to pause the movie. His gaze flickers up to yours with a slight level of concern. “What’s up?”

“These chocolates…” You audibly gulp, and your mind swims from reading the label on the box. “I don’t think these are regular ones.”

“Then what are they?” Jisung crawls over from his side of the couch and leans over your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he speaks. “Weed?”

You point to the packaging. It’s sensually decorated, with elegant lettering and a good number of red hearts littering the front. Right in the center are two words: aphrodisiac chocolate.

Jisung’s eyes bulge wide open and he blinks several times. “Sex chocolate?!”

“Yeah,” You let out a breathless, winded chuckle. Your eyes are equally as wide as his. “How many did we eat?”

Over the next minute, you and Jisung rummage around the couch and collect as many wrappers as you can. With each find, you’re more and more flabbergasted—assuming you two had an equal amount, you can say that you probably had ten to twelve chocolates…each.

“Holy shit,” is the only thing he can say for the next minute. You check the back of the box and discover more lovely news: the recommended amount is one to three squares per person.

There’s silence for the next couple of minutes after that.

The two of you must look so stupid, crouching over copious candy wrappers, dumbfounded by your dual idiocy. What the fuck were you going to do?

Jisung attempts to answer that question in breaking the silence. “So essentially…we’re gonna get super horny.”

“Yeah,” You respond, wincing. “I’m kind of trying not to think about that right now.”

“Well- I mean- You- I- ugh,” Jisung rubs his temples sorely. For once he’s completely serious, no giggles, no jokes. It concerns you as much as it frightens you. “How long until it kicks in?”

“A few hours, it says.”

“Any way to reverse the effects?”

“We already ate the chocolates, Sungie. I don’t think we can get them out.”

“Fuck,” He stares at the empty container. “What are we gonna do then?”

You open your mouth to respond and find it dry. Suddenly you’re hyperaware that in an undisclosed amount of time, both you and your best friend will be incredibly horny. In an apartment together, with no distractions. Just you and him.

You’re tempted to run for the hills. Grab your bag and race home to deal with it all on your own, rather than face this volatile situation and the can of worms that is your undeniable attraction to a man you swore never to date. It feels like the better situation for a split second; enough for you to place one foot on the ground in an effort to stand up from the couch.

Jisung’s head whips up immediately, and the panicked, almost desperate flash in his eyes freezes you in place. It’s almost a plea, a look that stirs something deep in your gut: Please. Don’t go.

You sit back down.

“So…wanna watch the rest of Ponyo?”

By the end of the movie, Jisung moves Ponyo up to A-tier. Normally you’d gloat in his face and criticize his judgmental movie taste—but you can’t seem to get the thought of the chocolates out of your head. It doesn’t help that he's uncomfortably close, his hoodie brushing up against your shoulder with every breath.

He doesn’t say anything as he shuts the laptop, doesn’t look at you as he leans back on the couch. His eyes are distant. Unfocused, dazed like you’ve only seen when he’s dead drunk.

You only need to wonder why for a moment before you notice just how burning hot you are.

Your shirt tightly sticks to you like a vice, and your head fogs like smoke filling the air. The thick pulse in your chest can’t seem to subside, and you feel your skin heat up more with every second that passes.

One sensation rushes in even stronger, an ache from your lower half. Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily, feeling for some sort of relief, any sort of relief. God, you’ve never wanted a dick more in your entire life.

And your best friend happens to be sitting right across from you with one.

Shit. No. You can’t think that way about him; you shouldn’t look. He’s your best friend—but your gaze moves on its own and hones in on the very obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

You glance upwards. Jisung’s cheeks are flushed. A bead of sweat trails down his forehead. He can’t seem to stop swallowing. His pretty dark eyes are not trained on yours but on the way your thighs press against each other for friction. He stares as if he’s devouring you whole.

“Jisung?” You say softly, your voice almost hoarse in your throat. There is no need to whisper. It’s just you and him, in his apartment together, alone.

“…Yeah?”

“Are you feeling it too?”

Jisung still can’t seem to look you in the eyes. He nods, slowly.

You crawl closer.

“Fuck,” He sputters out breathlessly. His hand reaches up to shakily adjust his glasses. Sweat seems to drip down the side of his face and off his chin. He wipes it away.

You inch closer, and with every shuffle you hear Jisung’s breath grow more ragged. His hands move all over himself— adjusting the gray sweatpants you want to ruin so badly, make a mess all over and cum on, brushing away the same strand of hair over and over. He still can’t seem to look at you.

Finally, you arrive right in front of him. You sit with your legs spread wide, your shorts doing little to cover up the arousal starting to drip down your thigh. Your knees, planted on the couch cushion, brush against his legs. His breath stops.

You reach up and gently grab ahold of his chin. Slowly, you turn his head so he comes face to face with your equally flushed face.

“Oh my god.”

In an instant, Jisung’s lips press against yours; he practically climbs on top of you, pinning you down into the furniture. His arms reach and wrap around whatever he can as he drinks from the taste of your lips in a dizzying rhythm. It’s insistent, messy, desperate. Your mouths move in a tangled dance, hoping each to swallow the other whole.

His fingers find the bottom hem of your shirt and hook underneath it to tug it up. You oblige and revel in each and every touch you can get.

Your shirt is shoved above your breasts, and Jisung doesn't bother to unclasp your bra—opting to move the fabric aside instead. He breaks the kiss to ogle at your bare chest. His eyes are lidded and you swear that his pupils are heart-shaped, and he sighs, almost dreamily. Like he's seen a piece of heaven.

“God, you're fucking beautiful,” He mutters from above you. “I'm sorry, I just can't....”

His words send a rush of heat straight to your core, and you whine. Next thing you know, he has his hands on your knees and spreads your legs apart so he can slot himself between them.

The friction of his pants against your clothed clit makes you keen—usually you aren't so sensitive, if not for those chocolates. Every sensation seems to be heightened.

"Sungie~" You whimper as Jisung rocks his hips against yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. He leans down to capture your lips in his once more, hungry for the hints of chocolate he tastes.

Everything is sloppy and coordinated; he grinds into you like a bunny in heat, groaning at every bit of friction between his gray sweatpants and your cotton shorts. It's hot and stuffy, but you've never felt so good in your life.

"Feel so good, shit-" Jisung mumbles between messy kisses. His glasses are fogged and hanging half off his nose, but he couldn't care less. "Wanna fuck you so badly- you want that? Want me to fuck you- ah, god~ like you deserve?"

Jisung shoves his head down into your chest, burying himself between your two mounds as he presses up on you from below. He kisses your skin and moves slightly to suckle on your right nipple, making you keen. His soft boba eyes peek out to look up at you, dazed and sick with sticky desire.

Your cunt clenches around nothing, throbs under the way Jisung's clothed cock hits your clit repeatedly. You want him to fuck you so bad, need your best friend's dick to split you open.

"Fuck me please," You beg, your voice trembling and thoughts hazy with lust. You've never begged for a man before, but Jisung is simply different in every way. "Please, Jisung, Sungie, please-"

He audibly groans, as if the sound of your voice gets him any closer to heaven. He wrenches himself away from your cunt to slip down his pants just enough for his thick, veiny cock to slip out. Meanwhile, you can't resist slipping your hand under the waistband of your shorts, to your needy wet cunt. You rub your clit with two of your fingers, whining softly at the stimulation of your swollen bud.

Suddenly, Jisung's hands wrap around the hem of your shorts and panties—he tugs them down all at once, exposing your sobbing pussy to his greedy view. You look up and his eyes are hungry, lidded and clouded with want, zeroed in on your cunt. You think he might be drooling.

Jisung hurries to press his cock against your wetness. He's shaky, almost trembling as he guides his mushroom tip through your folds, his breath coming out in stutters.

Even with just the tip, it's big. You feel like you're split open, and every inch of his cock entering your pussy sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. It doesn't even hurt with how wet it is, and he slides in like warm butter. He practically collapses onto you as soon as he bottoms out, his head buried in your neck.

His cock twitches inside you, and you realize through the haze that Jisung isn't moving. He's whining softly, breathlessly, but his hips do little more than tremble.

"Jisung-"

"Don't," He shushes you. His voice is raspy and desperate, and he mouths at your neck between words. "I-I'm trying not to cum."

You whine, wanting any sort of friction—but Jisung doesn't budge. Then you squirm a little, just to feel it a little more, and both of you let out audible moans. He grabs your hips roughly to hold you in place.

"F-fuck-" He swears, and there's a growl in the back of his throat. "Are you trying to get me to cum inside?"

The idea of his cum filling you up sends a rush through your bones. You inadvertently clench around him, and the grip on your hips becomes so strong it might bruise.

"Y-you want it that bad? Fine then. Fucking take it."

Jisung starts a relentless pace; he groans into your neck and holds your hips down so you take every inch of him with every thrust. His tip brushes up against your cervix sweetly, and you keen, your hands tangling into his black hair.

"You're so wet baby-" He mutters, stamping in a word between rough thrusts. "So. Fucking. Tight. God, bet no one has made you feel this good, huh? Say it."

You can barely find the words, letting punched-out moans every time his cock kisses your cervix. "Y-you're the only one, Ji!"

"That's it," He says, his pace speeding up impossibly faster. He's hardly going in a pattern, just bunny fucking into you like there's no tomorrow. "This pussy belongs to me, doesn't it? All mine~"

Jisung changes his grasp; he gets a hold of your thighs and spreads them so he can fuck you deeper. It's a welcome change—and you remove one hand from his hair to clamp over your mouth, your moans becoming unabashedly noisy. Your eyes squeeze shut and roll back behind your eyelids. "O-oh Jisung, that feels good-"

"Baby, baby please, I gotta cum- gonna cum inside, want that? You want that?" He says, and his hand shakily moves to rub his palm against your clit.

You cry out, about to tip over the edge. You want it more than you've ever wanted anything in your life. "P-please!"

Jisung groans loudly, not bothering to muffle the noise as he cums inside. You cum at the same time, whimpering into his tangled-up hair. His hips stutter but they don't halt; he fucks his cum into you lazily. You whimper at the sensation of his warm cream filling your insides. It's messy and deliciously wet.

"Jisung," You mumble out, still feeling a burning ache. You're addicted to the pull of his cock inside your walls. "I- I want-"

He interrupts you with a groan; then his hips begin to pound into you once more, moaning into the skin of your neck. He simply can't stop, even when you let out a high-pitched cry.

"I'm sorry baby- just had to. Your pussy is sucking me in-" Jisung grunts. His voice is nearly drowned out by the wet squelch of every thrust into your creamy cunt. "Just one more, one more, that's it~"

You feel like you're being folded in half from the way he presses you down, your thighs moving to rest on his shoulders. He ruts into you with reckless abandon, and his hands find themselves digging into the couch on either side of your head.

Jisung lifts his head up so it's right above yours, and you see him for the first time in what feels like ages. His glasses are long gone, and his lips are slightly ajar as he groans senselessly with every thrust. The pinkness of his round cheeks and the lidded pleasure in his eyes matches yours; he leans down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss.

You moan into his mouth sweetly, and he hums in delight. There's no rhythm to the way he kisses you and fucks you—just pleasure-driven madness, desperation to feel you in every way.

"Mine," He mumbles, almost to himself as he pounds into you desperately. "Gonna cum in you again, fill you up~ my baby, all mine-"

You clench despite the tired ache in your thighs. You want him to cum in you over and over, spill his semen and let him fuck it into you again. You want him completely, irrevocably.

It's this thought that sends you over the edge for a second time; you wail, unable to make out any words as a wave of pleasure washes over you. Jisung messily kisses you throughout, muffling the sounds that escape your lips with his own.

He thrusts a few more times, groaning senselessly into your mouth before finally cumming again. Another warm sensation floods your insides and you sigh in satisfaction.

Jisung crumples onto your body and simply lays limp on top of you. Neither of you can bring yourselves to move.

"Best sex ever." He croaks out with a hoarse voice, and you laugh tiredly.

The next morning, you wake up on the couch. Jisung is laying next to you, his body tangled with yours. He stirs as you shuffle and pull yourself up from the cushions.

"Morning," You whisper, and he responds with a soft hum. His hair is adorably chaotic and worsens as he runs a hand through it. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," He says, and sits up with a groan of pain. "God, my joints. I feel like I blew out my back."

You notice a similar soreness in your thighs, but you tease him regardless. "You old man."

"Shut up," Jisung replies with no real malice. He looks down at you with surprising affection, his boba eyes twinkling with joy. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You say, an amused breath leaving your lips.

"Nothing," He grins cheekily. "Just that I got to have sex with my best friend who I've liked for an entire year."

You blink in shock, and Jisung giggles. "What? You're surprised?"

"No, I mean- yeah," You find yourself stumbling over your words, a pink blush appearing on your cheeks. "I mean, we did fuck yesterday, I just didn't expect you to say it so...bluntly."

"Well I did," Jisung lowers his voice to a soft whisper. He leans in close so his lips nearly brush against yours. "I like you."

"I like you too," You reply bashfully, and you can't resist kissing him. It's slow and saccharine sweet, nothing like the desperate messes you were yesterday. He sighs like a love-struck teenager as you pull away.

"Minho's gonna kill us," He mumbles dreamily. You burst out laughing.

[logansbaby]

GUILTY AS SIN | Logan Howlett

❥ summary: the entire time you’ve known logan howlett, you’ve tried to keep your distance, your longings locked. then, one night, all that effort goes to waste when you’re confronted by your feelings.

word count: 8.5k

pairings: logan howlett x fem!mutant reader

content warnings: 18+ CONTENT MDNI, masturbation, dirty thoughts, light choking, multiple orgasms, oral (f + m receiving), spitting, sixty-nine sex position, scent kink, like one spank, underwear stays on! tiny hint of arousal from crying? p in v sex, creampie

❥ a/n: this is a repost from my previous account! please enjoy anyway<3 also, going through this again made me realize once again, im a slut!!!!! this is absolutely filthy!!!! readers mutation is vague but her hair color changes to red with emotions and red light/energy she manifests in her hands! title and fic inspired by guilty as sin by taylor swift

— ⋆˚୨♡୧⋆｡˚⋆

THE SHEETS are chilled, crisp to the touch enough that shivers tickle their way across exposed skin as a figure tosses and turns in the unmade bed. The window had been left open, and as a result, cold air had poured into the room.

Despite the fact that goosebumps adorn your body, it feels as though you’re on fire. Huffs escape parted lips, a charged hum zipping through your veins that only intensify each time you shift. You’d been trying to sleep for the past couple hours, trying to ignore the need thrumming through you, but have only managed to fail.

You turn on your side for possibly the twentieth time, but the position only serves to worsen your state as the flesh of your thighs squeeze unintentionally, a wave of brief relief sent to your throbbing cunt. Tears brim your lashes and heat coils in your tummy and fuck, your body is humming with lust and everything was so, so sensitive.

This is all Logan’s fault.

The man has been gone less than a week and yet, your body is practically vibrating with need, trembling with desire.

The feelings you harbor make you feel shameful and guilty for a handful of reasons.

Logan is not your boyfriend, he’s not even a friend. While he’s cordial with the others in the mansion, he’s remained cold and indifferent towards you.

You pretend it never bothered you, when he pointedly ignored your greetings in passing or refused to partner up with you during a mission. You didn’t understand what you’d done to upset him, to warrant his treatment of you as though you were the most annoying person on the planet.

So, logically, your heart should not race at the mere thought of him. Nor should your cunt throb and soak your panties whenever images of his sweaty form cloud your mind.

Though, you’re only human and Logan fucking Howlett is a man worth embarrassing yourself over, especially when he looks like he does.

A memory comes forward, one that has your cheeks hot with desire, your chest rising a little faster than before.

A couple weeks ago, it was late and with the way sleep evaded you, you’d been wandering the halls, in hopes of tiring yourself out. Except, when you’d walked down one of the hallways, you froze at the sight of Logan shirtless in his room, the door left ajar.

A towel covered his head as he scrubbed away the wetness in his hair, and you desperately hoped he hadn’t noticed your presence. Water dribbled down his muscular body, and your eyes greedily watched each droplet descend down. What really had you drooling, however, was the thick, prominent vein on his stomach that crept down into the waistband of his gray sweatpants.

When you had barely caught yourself from releasing a moan, you dashed back to your room right away. You were wide awake still, but for a completely different reason. All you could think about was tracing your tongue along the vein. If you’d fucked yourself that night to the thought of him, no one had to know.

So, if you gave in to desire tonight, it wouldn’t be the first time, but it certainly wouldn’t make you feel any less guilty.

Waves of warmth dust your cheeks, lips bitten until they’re swollen and spit slicked. Your breasts ache from inside the confines of the pink, lacy shirt— each labored breath you inhale have perky nipples brushing the material, sending zips of pleasure down your spine. Your hole aches so badly to be filled, and it clenches around nothing as need slicks the gusset of your panties. Your clit, puffy and neglected, throbs with pure, sizzling lust.

Another wave of butterflies floundering in your belly from the memory of Logan’s hairy chest has you giving in— a shaky hand slipping from its place on your stomach down, down, down until cold fingers meet the mess between your thighs. A gasp sounds, fluttering around the room as you brush over your clit. Even through the material of your underwear, the slight pressure of your fingers has you mewling.

Flashes of Logan dance behind closed lids, your imagination running wild while you messily swirled over your clit. You want him so, so bad, in every way possible.

You’re plagued with thoughts of him; his pretty hazel eyes, the slope of his nose, the tufts of his brown hair— the muscles that are constantly on display, his thick thighs that you want to ride until you come all over him, and the huge bulge that is ever present in those flattering jeans of his (and if it was a reoccurring fantasy of yours to ride that delicious bulge over his jeans until you both come from just dry humping, again— no one had to know).

Him hovering over you, dog tags swinging in your face as he fucks you hard. Him picking you up and taking you against a wall, lips trapped in a messy, wet top lip kiss. Him prying your thighs open as he licks up your pussy, tongue dipping into your hole to lap up all the desire pooling, his lips wrapping around the swollen bud and sucking violently. Him holding your face lovingly as his hips thrust his cock deeper down your throat, groans spilling at the gag you’d let out.

You’re split between wanting to sink down onto his cock and rut your swollen nub against the curls nestled the base of him and stuffing his dick down your throat, swallowing around him until he comes and coats your throat with his spend.

You don’t even bother to remove the damp underwear, instead circling your clit over the material— and oh, fuck. The roughness of the lace mixed with the soft rubbing of your fingers has moans tumbling from parted, wet lips.

Your unoccupied hand slips under the tiny shirt covering your chest and only settles until a nipple is pinched between determined fingers, rolling the pert bud in tandem with the swirl of your other hand on your sex.

Ecstasy nearly envelopes you and if you were more coherent, you’d be embarrassed by how fast you’re about to reach your peak. But, as it is, your brain is completely preoccupied and the only thing on your mind is lessening the pressing desire that ebbs deep within you.

And fuck, you’re so fucking needy for Logan that you try to pretend it’s his fingers abusing your clit, his fingers tugging at the sensitive buds of your chest. You want his tongue between your thighs, licking up your desire and sucking your puffy clit into his pretty mouth. You crave the burn that would tickle your most sensitive area.

You’re suddenly overwhelmed, the fantasies swirling behind your closed eyes far too much—the mix of your filthy thoughts and your fingers rubbing your nub has your legs shaking as more wetness dampens your slit.

“Logan, Logan, Logan—“ the chant of his name falls from you, the feeling of your orgasm washing over you, threatening to pull you under the tall waves of pleasure.

With your eyes scrunched shut, ears ringing white noise, and hips humping your hand pathetically, you’re a writhing mess against the sheets.

Your hair scattered around your pillow shifts from its natural state to a dark, glimmering red. Even with your eyes shut, you can feel the vermillion light whirling at your fingertips, begging to be released. Even with years of practice, your mutation is not one of subtlety.

Searing bliss coils in your lower tummy, your button tingling with the after effects of the orgasm that had just slammed into you. You sigh, because even though you just came, you feel far from satisfied. Your body buzzes with sweltering hunger, all the way down to the tips of your toes. Even if you fuck yourself dizzy with another orgasm, you know it won’t satiate your body.

Before you can slip your fingers inside your wet hole, a loud knock echos through your room.

You still, hoping that if you ignore the noise, whoever it is knocking will simply go away. But when another rhythmic thump comes a few seconds later, you huff.

It’s well past midnight at this point, so who in their right mind would be going about and slamming their fists on your door?

Apparently, you haven’t moved fast enough when the person has the nerve to knock for a third time. A growl, tinged with annoyance, slips out as you fling yourself up and off the bed.

You stomp to the door, ready to tell the person on the other side to fuck off. But when you open the mahogany door, all the anger simmering beneath your heated skin disappears, along with your breath, as your eyes take in the sight before you.

Logan Howlett stands before you, seemingly angry as a frown etches deep on his face. He glares at you, hazel eyes swarming with something unknown.

No matter how many times the man has graced you with his glare, it makes you shiver each time as if it were the first.

And little do you know, all of your craziest, fatal fantasies are about to come true.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡.

The moment Logan steps into the Mansion, finally back from the shit show of a mission Charles had sent him on, he tenses immediately.

His fingers clench into fists, tight enough that the skin threatens to turn white. The adamantium claws nearly poke through his knuckles as he inhales.

That sweet, sweet scent swarms his heightened senses, the intoxicating smell swirling strong enough that his heart speeds up, his stomach flutters, and his cock twitches within the confines of his jeans.

Logan can fucking smell you, a heady aroma that’s so completely you, teases him and threatens to break the barrier he’s put up since he met you.

He shakes himself loose from the metaphorical hold you have on him, and begins the journey to his room, trying to block out how delicious you smell.

Except, as he gets closer to the hallway he shares with you, he feels his control slipping, especially as your smell grows stronger, though now it’s tinged with something else— something sensual, sugary, and addictive.

Logan curses— you’re aroused, your scent giving you away completely. The idea of you panting as your pussy drips slick between your thighs has him clenching his jaw hard, fingers flexing and unflexing in an attempt to harness control back.

Though, that goes completely out the door as his body leads him right outside your door, unconsciously drawn to the very essence of you.

There was a reason Logan has kept the carefully crafted distance between you. The minute he was introduced to you, a new member of the x-men and teacher for the school, he knew he was fucked.

From the first look shared between you, he knew.

A pretty smile had graced your lips, eyes filled with joy as you greeted him, a hand outstretched as your hair swayed with your movements. In your pretty, little outfit (a pink, lacy dress that kissed the tops of your thighs matched with baby pink pumps) he thought you looked like a princess.

He’d stayed frozen, however, because he was assaulted with the fucking smell of you. It was nothing like he’d encountered before, and he’d been around for over a century. Your scent was so fucking sweet, vanilla and honey permeating his nostrils and right then, he’d wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelt.

He knew that he had to keep his distance, otherwise he’d become addicted to you in every sense. If he let himself, he’d worship the very ground you walked on. He couldn’t risk having the walls he’d spent so long building to crumble.

And suddenly, he was angry that his body had reacted this way to someone he’d never even met. He was angry he wanted to press sweet kisses on your face while also wanting to fuck you against the nearest surface until you screamed.

So, with that, he’d made up his mind.

He’d simply glared at you, refused to acknowledge your existence and stormed out of Charles’ office. Since that day, he’s tried his hardest to pretend you don’t exist— if only to ease the way you constantly haunt his thoughts.

He pretends it didn’t kill him to see how your face crumbles at his rude behavior, but he can’t help it. Because if he treated you how he wants, like the princess you are, he’d never let you go.

A sudden noise shakes him from the depths of his mind, the scent of you growing stronger by the second.

“Logan, Logan, Logan,” your honeyed voice whines, and right then, the telltale snikt! sounds immediately.

What the fuck? He thinks, his mind running a mile a minute at the revelation that not only are you seemingly fucking yourself, but you’re also moaning his name.

Logan growls lowly as his claws reveal themselves, cutting through the skin of his knuckles. His body feels unnaturally hot and his cock is now uncomfortably hard in his jeans, pre-cum bubbling at his tip and staining his boxers.

With the wafts of your pretty scent and sounds of your lithe whimpers, he knows he can’t resist you any longer.

His hand rises, claws retracting as his heavy fist slams on your door. He grows impatient and knocks again when there’s no movement, and just as he’s about to speak, the door swings open.

And the sight of you, face coated with a sheen of sweat and chest heaving, has him throbbing.

Tonight is the night his control finally snaps, despite months of work put into it.

Logan is going to fucking ruin you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡.

You gulp, a hand resting on the door frame as you stand frozen because honestly, what the fuck?

You deduce that the universe hates you because why would the man you’d been thinking of while fucking yourself be right in front of you?

It only dawns on you when Logan’s gaze swipes over your figure that you’re clad only in your pink, lacy top and the matching underwear, the latter wet with both your arousal and release.

You shrink beneath his eyes, heat simmering hot on the apples of your cheeks, and your mouth opens and closes but no words followed.

“Uh— Logan, hey!” Your voice is shaky, and whether it’s from the power of your release or the nerves that bumble within your veins at the man before you, you can’t tell. All you know is that you want the ground to swallow you up whole.

Logan doesn’t respond, just continues to stare at you in a way that you don’t understand. You assume he’s just gotten home from the very long mission, and you were confused as to why he’s at your door, especially considering how badly he despises you.

“I heard you.” His gruff tone is coated in something darker than you’ve ever heard before. For a moment, you’re lost, brows furrowing before your eyes go comically wide.

And— oh, oh.

“Can smell you, too.”

Heat licks at your whole body, embarrassment threatening to envelope you. Tears of horror tickle your lash line, because this is probably the most painful moment of your life. Not only does the man hate you, but now he’s heard you moan his name as you came all over your fingers? How pathetic are you?

You open your mouth, an apology heavy on your tongue. Though, before you can even speak a single word, Logan slams his mouth onto yours.

He holds your head softly, a deep contrast to the rough way his lips melt over yours. A moan slips from your open mouth, the feel of his lips sucking at your bottom lip intense and so, so good.

Your arms wrap around his neck, fingertips tangling themselves in the hair at his nape like you’ve wanted to do since the day you met him.

“Logan—“ you whimper against his mouth, trying and failing to understand what the fuck was happening as he slips his tongue inside your wet, warm mouth. “Logan.”

He ignores you, grunting against your spit, slicked lips as his hands travel down your curves, until they find purchase of your ass, gripping hard. A choked gasp falls from you as he suddenly pulls at you and picks you up effortlessly in his strong arms.

The idea of him picking you up with no hesitation has your hips moving forward without your control. Vaguely, you feel him move past the threshold of your door, slamming it shut before pressing your body up against the wood.

Logan switches between licking your tongue and sucking meanly at your lips, until they feel full and swollen with his attention. You’re pliant— almost willing to let him do anything he’d like to you.

Almost.

As good as his tongue feels dancing with yours, confusion still settles over your mind. Maybe this is a dream and if so, you never wanted to wake up.

“Wait—wait.” You pull back, the questions swirling inside too pressing to be ignored any longer.

“Huh, baby?” Logan groans, teeth pulling at your bottom lip before sucking the swelled skin into his mouth.

Babybabybabybabybaby— the pet name clouds your senses for a second, a rush of arousal pooling at your hole. You want to cry at how that simple word makes you feel.

“Stop that.” You mumble, pulling your head back and lips out of his reach.

Logan stares at you, unresponsive but waiting until you speak whatever is on your mind. Honestly, he wants his tongue to be buried deep in your cunt right about now, but details.

“What the fuck? What’s happening?” Breathless, the question settles between you, causing Logan’s brow to raise.

“Well, my tongue was just in your mouth—“ you slap his chest, face turning warm at his bluntness.

“Not that. I’m— why are you here? Why are you kissing me? Especially like that when you can’t stand me?” Your voice is quiet, insecurity tinged between the words. Nimble fingers grasp the dog tags that rest on his chest, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

At that, Logan’s face scrunches up, confusion floating about his irises.

“What are you talking about?” If it wasn’t for the genuine way he asked, you would’ve smacked his chest again at how clueless he was.

“What do you mean? You’ve made it very clear how you feel about me; you’ve despised my entire existence the moment we met!”

Frustration settles over you heavily, enough to snap you out of the lustful spell Logan has inflicted upon you. You slide down his body, ignoring the quiver of your cunt when you make contact with his jean clad bulge. You push at his chest, needing distance to ensure you actually get your words out and don’t end up back with his tongue down your throat.

“I don’t hate you.” Logan grunts, staring at you as you pace the wooden floors of the room. Vaguely, he’s listening, but he can’t be blamed for the way his eyes focus on the way your ass shifts with each step, the plush skin so inviting as the lace cups each cheek. “What’re you on about?”

You huff. Logan’s beginning to piss you off. The vague answers are getting on your nerves enough that you feel yourself snap.

Your hair suddenly turns bright red, a scarlet blossoming over the strands until they coat them completely. Your emotions could never be concealed, not with the way your hair turns different variations of red when you’re angry, furious, determined, aroused.

“You’ve been a dick to me, treating me like shit for no reason and now you think you can waltz in here and kiss me like that? You think you can pretend to want me when we both know that’s not true?”

Balls of fiery, red energy bloom upon your fingertips, and though you stand in your pretty pink assortment, you look the part of threatening.

Too bad the abrupt display of your mutation, mixed with fiery words, has Logan’s cock rock hard with want. He wants to have you ass up over his lap so he can watch the jiggle of each cheek as he spanks you.

“Sometimes, I question whether or not you’re actually a genius.”

And, oh. You feel the words like a punch to the gut. You’re so mad, so blinded by the intense emotions you feel for Logan, that those pesky flames of energy begin to tickle up your wrist and forearm, a telltale sign of your anger.

“Fuck you, Logan.” You hiss, your fingers warm with the heat coursing through them.

What pisses you off more, your hair and eyes darkening to a maroon, is the fact that Logan sports a faint smirk, watching you with humor as if you weren’t showcasing how riled up you were.

“Are you done yet?” Logan takes a step closer, uncaring of the way your mutation is flaring up furiously at his presence.

“Logan, leave me alone. I don’t need you to sit here and pretend to want me. I don’t need you to make fun of me, either.” Huffing, you glare up at the man before you, who stares back just as pointedly.

You turn around, back facing him as you go to enter the attached bathroom when suddenly you’re spun back around by a hand on your nape, your neck in a delicious tight grip as Logan pulls you into his body, smashing his mouth on yours for the second time tonight.

Your body betrays you as a desperate whimper tumbles from you when you register the passion Logan pours into your embrace.

His teeth bite down on your top lip, before suckling sweetly to combat the pain flourishing there. You moan, mouth falling open as he messily kisses you. The intoxicating taste of him settles over your tastebuds, his tongue swirling with yours in a way that left you dizzy with need.

A string of spit connects between your mouths as Logan pulls away, chuckling meanly when you promptly follow the warm, wetness of his lips. A rough hand grips your throat again, tight enough to leave you feeling breathless but delicious enough to make your cunt squeeze around nothing.

“So that’s what you think, princess? That I don’t want you?” Logan’s fingers flex around your throat, gripping at your jaw to capture all of your attention. As if you were anything less than enamored with him. “You think that’s what I’ve been doing, huh?”

You can only stare up at him as your heartbeat rings loudly through your eardrums. A hand goes to tug at his shirt, an attempt to steady yourself, but Logan is faster as he grips your wrist.

“Answer me.” He whispers, sensual as the hand holding yours captive begins to intertwine your fingers together.

The touch of him, the hold on your throat and roughness of his fingers in your own, renders you frozen. You’re so overcome with your emotions that you only manage to nod. Without your permission, you go limp in his hold, silently begging him to do something to satiate the hunger burning every inch of your skin.

“Words, baby. Got nothing to say now, huh?” He taunts, his grip leaving your neck in favor of thumbing at your lips.

“Yes— I…it’s what it’s seemed like, what you’ve made me feel. Thought you hated me.”

Logan’s nose twitches, no doubt smelling your arousal as more begins to drip between your thighs when his thumb plays with your bottom lip pathetically.

“Couldn’t be more wrong,” He grunts, pushing his thumb past the soft of your lips. His knees nearly buckle at the feel of your mouth closing and sucking his thumb, tongue rolling up against the skin as though it was his cock instead. “Shit, baby.”

You only whine around his finger, eyes fluttering up at him in a way that has his dick twitching with want.

“Fuck, been dreaming about you since the day we met. Been dreaming of you in every way possible.” He admits, a smile tugging at his lips at the way you freeze, lips leaving his thumb with a ‘pop’.

“What?” It’s a whisper, barely audible but he hears it all the same. The butterflies in your stomach are having a full on party now, bolts of anxiousness kissing your skin.

“Of course.” Logan leans down, pressing a kiss to your wet lips. “Knew the second I saw you you’d ruin me, so I just… stayed away. I never meant to make you think the worst. M’sorry, honey.”

This was not the way you’d expected tonight to go.

It’s as though all the confusion, anger, and sadness drain from you and its replaced with the tremulous feeling Logan causes in your body.

And despite the fact that you’ve fucked yourself thinking about him, and he’d heard, you felt incredibly shy. You drop your head to his hard chest, your hands squeezing his own where he holds them.

“I don’t know what to say.” You utter, brain all muddled and no other thoughts exist as Logan plagues every inch of your mind. You’d felt like an idiot, even though Logan has acted like a dick for the better part you’d known him.

Logan simply lifts your head, invading your senses as his nose bumps yours.

“Can I kiss you now?”

And when you nod, his lips are back on yours instantly, their rightful place.

The kiss was messy—hot, wet, and dirty. Logan moans when you jump up, strong arms catching your thighs in a tight grip. Wrapping your arms around his neck again, you lose yourself in the thrilling taste of his mouth. You unconsciously begin dragging your drenched panties across his hard dick.

You suck on his tongue before capturing his lip between your teeth, nails dragging down his shoulder blades as you do so. A loud, feral growl escapes Logan, and without another thought, he throws your pliant body on the bed.

And, at the sight of you, Logan thinks he might come right then and there. In your little outfit, so much plush, soft skin is on display. The hair tumbling from your shoulders has shifted to a dark cherry color during your kiss, and your hands are tickling with red energy, twirling up your arms, not unlike the way vines do to an old home.

This time, though, he knows you aren’t upset, but instead, aroused.

He can fucking smell the way your slick drips from your sobbing hole, how it coats your thighs.

And fuck, he wants to sink his face right in front of your pussy and inhale until he’s woozy with the smell of you.

So, that’s exactly what he does.

Your eyes widen as Logan drops onto the floor in front of the bed, yanking your body to the edge. Your lower half is completely in his grip, and he stares at you for a moment before pulling your pussy up to his nose. The feel of him so close to your puffy lips has you aching, even more so when he lowers his head and fucking sniffs you.

“Fuck, baby. Been dreaming of this since the minute I saw you. Smells so fuckin’ sweet.” Logan inhales deeply again, smattering messy, open mouthed kisses to the skin of your upper thigh. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to throw you over my shoulder, get you alone and eat your pussy.”

“Logan!” You whimper out. The sound was completely feeble, bordering on desperate, but you couldn’t care less, not with the way he’s sucking bruises into your skin. “Please, please.”

Spurred on by your whines, he sinks his teeth into the skin, where your thigh meets your core.

Pain simmers into pleasure as the sting is soothed by his tongue. Dark splotches decorate your upper thighs, the preview of the bruises that will decorate the skin tomorrow. Logan does this until he’s satisfied with the color blooming across the skin before him. It’s his way of solidifying that you’re his, like he’s staking his claim with his bruises smattering your thighs.

At some point your hand finds purchase in his hair, pawing at the tufts and tugging his face closer to where you need him most. He hums, the pain at his scalp sending jolts of desire throughout his body.

He sneaks a look at you, and shit, it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Your head is thrown back, sending those rebellious, red strands fluttering around you. Your hips keep canting up, and the smell of you, mixed with the previous orgasm you’d worked out before he interrupted, sends his senses in overdrive.

He decides he’s tortured you both enough and without hesitation, Logan licks a long, wet stripe up your clothed pussy, suctioning around your enlarged clit.

The taste of you, heady, sweet, and so distinctly you, floods over his tongue. He knew you’d taste good, but this? Oh, he wants to drink you up all hours of the day.

With a growl, Logan tugs the lace aside and then sucks, licks, and mouths at your cunt like a man starved. His tongue dips into your hole before licking up and down your slit.

Moans of his name echo through the walls of your room, along with the filthy sound of the sucking of your swollen clit.

You’ve never felt like this before, the way he’s eating you out has your entire body on fire, and if you could see yourself, you’d see how ruby colored lines swirl brighter around your hands, how your hair practically glows vermillion.

He’s been attracted to you the minute he saw you— but the way you look when your mutation is at work? The way your hair shifts shades of intoxicating reds? The way the fiery energy glows from the tips of your fingers and up your elbows? Oh, how it fucking wrecks him. He just wants to keep you captive in this bedroom for all of eternity, if only to see you like this all the time.

“Feels so fucking good, fuck.” You’re a blubbering mess, hands tugging Logan’s hair hard, resulting in a moan that vibrates your pussy.

“Mine.” He grunts, and you gasp at the sensation of saliva as he spits directly onto your clit. “My fuckin’ pussy.”

Then, he latches his soft lips around your puffy bud and sucks hard. His dirty words and lucious mouth have your thighs shivering and hips bucking with want.

Like you’d done when you were alone and thinking about him, whimpers of ‘Logan’ sound as you hump his face.

“That’s it, baby, say my name. Taste so fuckin’ good.” He hums against your puffy, wet pussy.

A stream of ‘fuckfuckfuck’ spills from open lips, forming an ‘o’ as the rush of delicious, hot pleasure pours over you completely.

Your vision blurs— body nearly succumbing to the intense bliss prickling across your being. You barely even register how you’ve locked your legs around Logan’s head, captive in a tight grip as you rub your clit along his nose. With the way he’s grunting along your slit, you don’t think he minds.

As you come down, the pleasure fizzles out and overwhelming tingles steal its place as Logan continues to lap at your wetness, groaning at your taste.

“S’too much, Logan.” Shaky hands grip the brown locks and you try and fail to bring the man away from your throbbing hole. His tongue swirls along your clit and hole, dipping in as deep as he can to savor every last drop. “Oh, fuck.”

“Taste too fuckin’ sweet, baby. Can’t help it.”

Logan grips tightly at your thighs, pinching meanly at the flesh as he licks and sucks at your pretty, puffy clit. He can’t get enough, and seemingly, neither can you, with the way you buck into his warm, slick mouth despite your weak protests. The material of your underwear snaps back against you as Logan’s grip loosens, but he still eats you out as though there’s no barrier, only soaking the lace more.

His soft lips and dangerous tongue make it difficult to do anything but take the mind-numbing pleasure.

He’s content to stay here; between your gorgeous thighs and devour your cunt all night, pull orgasms from you until you forget everything except the syllables that make up his name.

Except, the words that come from you have him freezing against you, his cock aching and responding immediately to the addictive tilt of your voice.

“Logan— Logan, wanna suck your cock. Please.”

It’s as though you’re made for him— every inch of you riles him up like no one else has before and he has to take a deep, deep breath to refrain from coming in his jeans like a damn virgin.

With one last lick up your lace covered sex, his face is suddenly above yours and the sight is lethal. The entirety of his lower face is coated in wetness, glistening and gleaming that he wears with pride. His eyes look animalistic, the hazel taken over by the black of dilated pupils.

Logan looks at you like he wants to fucking destroy you. You know without a doubt you’d let him.

A sweet, gentle kiss is placed upon your mouth, a warm caress of his tongue on yours, the musky taste of your cunt dancing along your tastebuds. You whine once more, because you crave the heady taste of his cock that you desperately want. Your mouth salivates at the thought of his tip heavy on your tongue.

“Easy, honey. Can smell how bad you want it.”

If you weren’t in such a hazed state, you’d be mortified at the knowledge Logan can smell your arousal.

“Logan.” Pathetic whimpers and moans against his mouth have him pulling back, gritting his teeth to have a sense of control. It doesn’t work, not with the way you’re splayed out below him, face pretty with lust.”Please.”

How was he meant to last when you sounded like that? All fucked out and dizzy from just his tongue alone?

He lays down beside you, heart thumping at the way your watery eyes watch him move.

“C’mere’.” Logan mutters, yanking your body over him and all the way up his chest, maneuvering you until your pussy is hovering above his mouth, your lips hovering over his cock.

Dizzy on Logan, saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of his bulge, massive even in the confines of jeans.

You’re confused as to why Logan put you on his chest, but it makes sense when he yanks your thighs down, mouth finding your wet, sopping sex immediately.

You cry out, hips jolting at the way his tongue pushes the pink fabric away from your puffiness, lips wrapping around your clit. When he notices how you’re shaking on his face, unmoving beside the subtle thrusts of hips, he stops.

“Lo—“

“Go on then, baby. Suck my cock, just like you wanted.”

And oh, you both feel the wetness that follows after those rasped words tinge the air.

Only once you undo that damn belt buckle and pull both his jeans and boxers down, just enough to see the way his cock bounces out, bubbling precome at the red, swollen tip, does Logan resume eating your pussy.

Fueled by the return of those talented lips, you lean forward without another thought.

Licking from base to tip, a moan vibrates against his cock as you hum, a taste that’s so Logan flooding your senses. You lick up and down him messy, spitting on the tip of him as you slick his dick up, before finally wrapping your lips around him.

“Fuck, baby.” His growl is borderning on feral; his teeth finding purchase on your asscheek and biting, in an attempt to ground himself. It only serves to have his hips jump at the feel of you whining on him, sucking him down so fucking good. “Fuck, knew you’d be good with that pretty fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s so focused on the way you’ve started bobbing up and down the length of him, dazed with the warmth and wetness as you suck and swirl your tongue, that he’s stopped his attention to you, something he’s only reminded of as you wiggle over him.

“Sorry, princess, you’re driving me fuckin’ crazy.” He grits out, fingers gripping the flesh of your thighs at the little ‘hmph!’ released as you pull off his cock.

Though he can’t see you, he knows there’s a string of spit that spans your swollen lips to his pulsating cock. He shutters, overwhelmed by you entirely, before burying his face into your weepy cunt.

”Oh! Logan, feels so good!” With a pathetic little whimper, his cock fills your mouth again as you sink down, satisfied with the way his tongue is licking at you once more.

A blend of both your moans float about the walls, as he wraps his lips around your puffed clit, as you ease his cock down your throat.

Logan’s eating you out messily, crazed by the tang of you soaking his mouth, chin, and nose. Despite the warmth bubbling in his stomach, he’s determined to make you come on his tongue again first.

When thick fingers nudge into your hole unexpectedly, you mewl at the blissful feeling.

Logan’s fingers work steadily inside you, in tandem with the way his mouth suckles meanly at your button. You’re an absolute mess— grinding down on his face, riding his fingers earnestly, gagging as Logan’s hips match the pace of his fingers, grunts vibrating against you as he fucks your throat.

Logan curls his fingers in a way that has you seeing every fucking color of the rainbow. You come, moaning around the base of his cock and rocking back and forth on his fingers and mouth, muffled sobs spilling from your stuffed mouth.

When he feels you shivering on his tongue, overstimulated and sensitive, he pulls away from your center, the soaked fabric of your panties falling back into place once more.

Your mouth is still full of him, lips lazily sucking him down as your body tries to get ahold of the white, sizzling pleasure still coursing through you.

“C’mere, baby.”

It’s a soft whisper against your thigh, but it settles over you, his soothing voice swirling around your shaky body like a warm blanket. Letting his cock fall from your lips, you scramble as fast as your body will allow before you find yourself straddling Logan, staring down at the man with cloudy, wet eyes.

And maybe Logan is sick— because the sight of tears spilling over your cheeks has his cock unbelievably hard, a growl threatening to tumble out at the way your pretty, crimson hair spills over your shoulders.

Still, he needs to make sure you’re okay.

“What’s wrong, princess?” Logan watches at the way a small smile graces your features, even as tears continue to glisten your lash line. “You okay?”

“Nothing's wrong, just feel so good.” Your voice is a little hoarse, no doubt from the way his dick was fucking your whiny mouth. Still, your voice is still the sweetest thing he’s ever heard, those few words going straight to his dick.

Logan feels his own lips tug upwards as you speak. Even though he’s fucked you silly and stolen two orgasms, he tenses with desire as he notes the want dancing in your eyes.

“Good.”

“Mhmm.”

There’s a beat of silence, a moment where hungry eyes lock in on one another, sensual energy and tension threatening to break.

Then, in a flash, lips are locked and tongues whirl together familiarly. It’s a hot, sensual kiss filled to the brim with desire— the passion almost too much with how it lights up every inch of your bodies, a fire threatening to spread.

Neither of you are sure who moved first— but it doesn’t matter because the way Logan’s hand wraps around your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail in a tight grip, steals your attention.

If someone were to see the two of you, they would see how desperate and needy you both were.

You’re sucking on Logan’s top lip, biting before soothing the sting with a sweet, soft suck. Your thighs are spread over his own entirely and your position has your cunt settled over his cock nicely. Logan’s free hand grips the skin of your ass tight, guiding as you grind against him, the soaked panties catching on the tip of him with each thrust. The fingers tangled in your hair are unforgiving, tugging harshly as Logan grunts into your open mouth.

You’re both a mess of passion and lust— and you’re body thrums with the idea of his cock inside you.

“Such a good girl, that’s it. Fuck—“ Logan nearly whines, the feel of you humping him has him trapping your lips in another allconsumimg kiss.

Your hands, lit up with energy, find purchase in his pretty hair, tugging as he kisses you messy because everything is somehow too much and not enough.

“Logan— need you. Need you so bad, baby.”

Logan wants to eat you up entirely— somehow you’re still not satiated, rubbing your slick all over his lap and begging him for more. If he was a better man, he would’ve fucked you already. As it is, he likes it a little too much hearing you beg for him.

“Shhh, you got me, honey. I’m right here.”

“Fuck me, please. Need you inside, Logan.”

There’s tears in your eyes again, ready to spill over if the ache between your thighs isn’t soothed in the next five minutes. You’re clinging to him, hips stuttering because it’s just not enough and you both know it.

“My poor baby.” He hums, the words somehow a mix of condescending and genuine and it makes you cry out. “So needy, huh?”

“Just for you.” The way you say it, it’s a message you both understand— you need him in every way possible, not just sexually.

He wonders if you know just how badly he needs you, especially now that he’s got a taste of you.

“I’m yours—“ you start, but it’s cut off by the squeak you emit when you’re suddenly flipped over, Logan’s muscular form hovering over you, his dog tags swinging between you.

“You’re mine.” It’s not a question, but a statement and it sends a thrill through you.

“Yours.” You’re nodding, eyes wide and so fucking pretty that it makes Logan squeeze his hands, the metal of his claws threatening to break through the skin.

He pulls his shirt off then, pride filling his chest at the way your eyes glaze over, a lip taken between your teeth as you stare at the vein that leads to his cock, which is painfully hard and cherry red at the tip.

He doesn’t comment on your lustful eyes, instead tracing his fingers down your body, until he reaches the hem of your baby pink, lacy top. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination but Logan might break something if he doesn’t see your tits in all their glory.

You get the message, leaning up and slowly pulling the fabric from your chest, your breasts and midsection on full display. If he hadn’t already eaten you out twice, you would’ve moved to cover your taut nipples. Instead, you grip the chain of his necklace and pull him back down with you, sighing when you’re chest to chest.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” He says, pecking your lips once, licking a stripe down your throat. Wetness coats both nipples as his tongue swirls over them. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to have you under me?”

You moan, nails digging into his shoulder blades at the fluttery feeling his lips bring, deep enough to elicit blood from his skin. Logan groans, head tipping back as his hips thrust down suddenly, the tip of his cock ramming into your clit.

“Fuck, Logan.” Your hands span the expanse of his back, scratching each time he bumps your button just right. His jeans are still on, resting just below his thighs and the way he couldn’t even get up to properly take them off makes you shudder.

He’s rutting against you now, dick rubbing sensually over your panties and it dawns on you then that he hasn’t even come yet, too preoccupied with taking care of you.

Determined, you slide one hand onto his asscheek, pushing him further into you, while your other grips his chin, pulling his mouth to yours in a slick, open-mouth kiss.

“C’mon Logan, fuck me, please.”

Logan turns into something animalistic then— flipping you over onto your stomach without warning, caging you between his arms. Your gasp is audible as he yanks your soaked panties to the side, before thrusting forward, and fucks his cock into you with one thrust.

“Oh my god, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—“ the feel of Logan finally inside you has you absolutely fucking drunk on the feel of him.

“Tryin’ to, baby.” He grits, arms flexing beside your head, fingers intertwined with yours as he sinks into you, inch by inch, until you were filled to the brim.

Logan’s body covers yours, lips pressing all over your shoulder blades to soothe the little whines you let out at how fucking full you feel. It’s everything you wanted and more— you want to memorize the feel of him, every ridge and vein as he stuffs you.

“Baby,” he grunts, fingers flexing with yours as he stays still, for your sake. “So fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ wet.”

And it’s true— despite the fact that he’s huge, he slipped in easily because of the mess you created, a slick mix of your come and desire costing your slit.

“Logan, fuck me, please.” You speak, so sweetly, as if you’re not impaled by his cock right now.

With that, he slips out of you slowly, before fucking into you hard, deep. Then, he fucking ravishes you— creating a steady, fast paced rhythm and fucking you dumb with his cock.

Your hair grows darker, hands glittering between his grip each time he slams into you, each time your cunt squeezes and pulses around him.

Completely cock drunk, your back arches, ass up and hips slamming back against his with your cheek pressed into the mattress as you sob.

You’re so fucking needy that his own thighs become sticky and wet with your desire and Logan growls at the sight, fucking you even faster.

“You’re mine.” Logan grunts, releasing your fingers in favor of gripping your hair and pulling you up until your back is pressing into his chest. “My fuckin’ girl.”

“Yours!” You whimper, tears rolling down your face. Your entire body is filled with pleasure, and you feel like you can’t breathe with how overwhelmed you are, with how much euphoria you feel. “M’so close!”

“I know, honey, I know. Can feel you fuckin’ squeezin’ around me.“ Logan moans out, pushing you back down into the mattress and finding purchase on your hips, pulling you back hard and quick. “Gonna come all over me?”

You don’t answer, instead crying out as you feel a sharp flash of pain on your asscheek, Logan’s hand swift and quick. The pain mixes into pleasure when he rubs at the red skin, pressing sweet kisses on your back.

He wishes you could see yourself right now; maybe then you would understand why he’s so intoxicated by you.

Your pretty body bent over, ass up and face in the sheets as whimpers tumble out. The lace that drove him crazy is yanked to the side, grazing his cock each time he drives deeper inside you. You’re so fucking beautiful like this, he wants to keep you forever.

Sweet, whiny ‘uh,uh’s’ fill Logan’s ears as he speeds up, pulling you back up once more against his chest. He wants to be as close as fucking possible, the feel of your skin on his almost searing.

You turn your head back, lips seeking out his own. He kisses you, sucking at your lips as he continues to fuck you vigorously.

The fluttery feeling of your cunt squeezing around him suddenly sends him over the edge— low groans falling in your open mouth as hot, searing spurts of his come coat your walls.

Knowing that Logan finally gave into the temptation like you’d done all night, has you whining as your own orgasm surrounds your entire being.

“Baby—“ Logan thrusted shallowly, riding your orgasms out as long as he can. If he could, he’d never leave this feeling behind. Seemingly, you agree as your nails dug into his forearms that hold you up, eyes squeezing shut at the overpowering bliss tingling everywhere. “I got you, it’s okay.”

“Logan, fuck!” It came out as a whine, your lips sucking lightly on his neck, body completely limp in his hold.

You’ve never been so incredibly sex-dazed in your life; from this point on, Logan has ruined you for anyone else.

Though, you hope there won’t be anyone else.

Logan kisses your head before untangling from you; a smirk dancing across his usually gruff features at the little whine you let out as he pulls out. He gently rolle you onto your back, laying your head gently on the pillows. It’s such a stark difference to the rough way he fucked you minutes prior, but butterflies flutter around all the same.

You watch his eyes trail lower, landing on the mess between your thighs.

Logan is mesmerized by the sight; your pussy is all puffy and so fuckin’ wet with his come seeping out of your hole. Mindlessly, he lowers himself until he’s eye level with your sex. Without any warning, his fingers are back inside.

He ignores your hiss in favor of trying to push his come back inside, to keep you full of him. His eyes meet yours, watching as your chest rises as you observe him. There’s a glint in your eye that has his heart stuttering.

“I want to kiss you.” You whisper, soft and a little bashful, as if he didn’t have his fingers inside you. You look too perfect, hair returning to its original color, eyes cloudy with unspoken words, a smile spread over your face.

How could he deny you when you look like that?

Logan kisses your clit once, twice, three times, enjoying the way you jolt, before removing his fingers.

With those same digits, he sticks them in his mouth, sucking the flavor of you both and humming. He can hear the way your heart picks up at his actions. He releases them with a loud ‘pop’, before finally coming back to you.

He hovers over you, and like you’d done earlier, soft hands pull at the chain until his lips meet yours in a soft kiss. Logan pulls back, resting his head on yours as he matches your stare.

“Hi.” You hum then, nose bumping his in the proximity.

“Hi, baby.” Logan kisses your lips once more, before rolling beside you. You would’ve whined at him if it weren’t for the way he immediately pulls you onto his chest.

With your limbs tangled, a kiss pressed to your forehead, you think this could be heaven and if so, you never want to leave.

It’s quiet for a moment— the two of you content to listen to one another’s heartbeat, the breaths that fall from lips. Then, you break the silence, because of course you do.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“Just so you know, I’m expecting you to take me out before you get me like this again.” Its muttered against his slick chest, where your head rests as you wrap yourself around the man like a koala.

A deep laugh fills the room, chest rumbling because what the fuck?

He’s fucked you, with his mouth and cock, and you’re laying on him as his come seeps out of you and you’re demanding him to take you out?

He was going to in the first place, but he thinks it’s cute you decide for him.

Logan may be a man that’s been alive for almost two centuries, practically immortal, but it’s completely possible you’ll be the death of him.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ we're doing better ]❜

ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ your husband has finally been honest with you, but what now?┊3.0k words; prt one (here)

contains: his pov, lots of perspective and lore, love at first sight, happy ending where the reader forgives him, note that sociopathic/psychopathic behavior has no known cure & that this is unrealistic fiction, he can’t be fixed but he can be here <3

➤ author's note: the long-awaited & heavily-requested part two!! the ending is sucky because i didn’t plan to write a part two and because i personally wouldn’t have forgiven him, but lots of you guys seemed to want to. i wanted to write something exploring their relationship, so i hope this is received well & that you guys will enjoy!

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning” were the last words you said to him before rushing out the door and disappearing to your mother’s house. that was last night, but it was now early evening with the sun finishing its descent over the horizon and you were nowhere to be seen. he briefly wondered if you were also watching it from wherever you were like he was through the window, knowing that you adored the beautiful array of colors blending into each other and always pointed it out when you were with him. he never cared for it himself and took the sight for granted until you came along. now he’s aching for your presence asking him if he thought it was pretty when you were always the prettiest sight in his eyes with the orange light reflecting on you.

his hand was itching to call you or send a text, but he decided against it. you needed your space, especially after that fateful conversation which left him with regret weighing heavy on his chest. he wasn’t sure what the regret stemmed from, if it was regret from not trying harder to keep his secret, if it was from not being more careful to hide his tracks from seong gi-hun, if it was from attempting to build a normal life, or if it was leading the type of life had in the first place. it was a mix of everything, and he hated the feeling of it.

gong ji-cheol never regretted anything in his life. he didn’t regret spending his days getting a sadistic kick out of playing judge and jury to people he viewed as worthless trash when they lost against him, whether it was slapping people he was recruiting into games they would inevitably die in or spending his free time messing around with homeless people. he didn’t regret getting tangled up with the mysterious oh il-nam and the activities occurring on that island, starting as a guard and working his way up to a salesman. he didn’t regret firing a gun on his own father in cold blood when he unknowingly begged his own flesh and blood to spare him.

he’s a man who was steadfast and stubborn when it came to his fucked-up morals and ideals, always believing from a young age that it made him better than others. there was never a reason for him to change as he got older when he found himself working for a hidden organization that introduced him to the addicting taste of death, paid well, and protected him from the law if the unlikely situation of getting caught by authorities for his crimes ever happened. he never cared to do the right thing was doing wrong was just so much more suited to him, never minding the strict set of rules he had to adhere to as long as he was allowed to freely exercise his psychopathic tendencies without trouble following him. it made him feel like a god at times who was so high above normal people if he ignored that he was still an employee with a boss.

and now he’s sitting in the living room, disheveled and staring at the floor waiting for your return like a dog awaiting its master.

he couldn’t even be mad at you for storming out like that. he’s surprised about how mellow your reaction was to learning the truth of his occupation and how dirty the cash he used to spoil you was, how you didn’t scream loud enough for the neighbors to hear, and how you didn’t call the police— or maybe you had already called them at some point today and his friends in higher places were working to keep him safe. more than anything, he misses you, filled with a feeling of longing he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before.

at first, he was only trying to look normal. the people around him started to wonder why a man as tall and handsome as he with money that flowed in like water from an unknown source he kept secret was still single. when people wonder, they start to become nosy. he couldn’t have that if he wanted to keep up the lifestyle he had, so he started searching for someone suited to be his wife. 

to others, he seemed incredibly picky, never reaching out for a second date even once or even bothering to send a polite text saying he didn’t feel a connection. to him, he didn’t think he was picky enough. despite carefully combing through his options and sometimes even hiring private investigators to stalk them if needed, there was always something he missed which was a dealbreaker for him in a relationship: ignorance and stupidity, improper table manners when he reserved at a fine restaurant, running more than fifteen minutes late without traffic in the way, and most importantly for him, asking too many prying personal questions which weren’t relevant on the first date. yes, he understands that first dates are all about getting to know each other, no, he doesn’t find it necessary to talk about stupid things. although he would rather not say anything at all, he’s very particular about how quickly he shares information about himself with others and gets ticked off by anyone who tries too hard to learn more about it (he won’t admit it, but he also gets a bit threatened by it).

by the time the day his first date with you rolled around, he was ready for it to be his last before he lived out his life alone as originally planned. he lost his faith that he would find someone who lived up to his lofty expectations and received news that oh il-nam was dead. the next games were canceled to mourn the loss of the founder, and part of ji-cheol wondered if he should cancel the date as well to take the time to pay his respects. he didn’t think you would be the one and believed there wouldn’t be any difference whether or not he actually showed up.

yet there was something in him that refused to pick up the phone and make up an excuse. it was indescribable like a higher power making sure that he followed the path intended for him. he told himself it was nothing but not wanting to be rude when it was only half an hour before the arranged time and because he didn’t want to pay the cancellation fee, nothing more nothing less. he never cared before if he was thought of as rude to people he didn’t intend to keep in his life for long, and he had enough money to buy the entire place if he wanted to.

so what was his problem all of a sudden?

you showed up perfectly on time, a few seconds before the clock struck, looking beautiful. it’s not a word he uses often. pretty, maybe, but not beautiful, yet it was the first word that crossed his mind when you introduced yourself. he found himself enamored by your presence and everything about it from how you carried yourself to the subtle glitter eyeshadow that made your eyes sparkle to the dainty jewelry hanging around your neck, so enamored that he forgot to accept your outstretched hand and to get up to pull out your seat for you at first.

more than easy on the eyes, dressed appropriately, good table manners, well-educated, never pressing too hard on matters he clearly didn’t want to talk about, you were quickly checking off everything on his list as his partner— although what he was really looking for was to draw away suspicions and your likable personality made you perfect for the job, he could even see you as a companion. even if you were visibly nervous, he didn’t mind, your timidness was adorable actually, akin to a little bunny being fed by his hand.

when he finally got home, he realized he was still smiling when he’s usually constantly reminding himself to do so. he also realized that he lost track of time and came back a whopping two hours later than he expected.

it was history from there, gong ji-cheol, a man who saw other humans as unequal trash, had succumbed to love at first sight, which baffled him.

it made him remember a scene from his childhood, one where he asked his mother why she remained married to his deadbeat father after another night of him not showing up in favor of gambling and drinking instead of spending it with his own family. she embraced him with tears, once again reminding him of her own tale of love at first sight, and also telling him that when you’re so deep in love like she was, you’re willing to forgive them for anything.

he thought she was stupid for that. now he knows he’s truly just like his mother just like everyone said.

you were shy in the first steps of the relationship, quickly realizing that you had become a glorified sugar baby of sorts. he didn’t know how to express his affection through words nor did he have the extra time to spend with you during that time of the year, so he spoiled you with lavish gifts and wealth beyond your wildest dreams. any debts you might have were paid off, one of the nicest condos in korea was bought for you to move in together, your parent's retirement was paid off in full to allow them to stop working, and any other money-related issues were quickly covered by him. you could even quit your job if you wanted to, but you didn’t want to become too dependent on him and wouldn’t know what to do with all the extra time in your day.

it soon became clear there was a boundary not to be crossed, which was not to dig too much into his personal life. if he gave you a curt, general answer to your question, you were not to say anything more about the matter. no one you spoke to about this thought this was too strange, even when you were preparing to get married, because what was there to worry your pretty head about? you love him and he loves you, he was treating you better than a queen, and his wealth spread into your circle of people you cared about with friends getting luxury perfumes and parents getting first-class tickets to wherever they wanted. in a way, they didn’t want to ask any more questions if it meant angering him and possibly not having these things anymore.

you never liked it, but he never cared about it. they were just trivial things and he was perfectly fine with sharing what he had, or at least, that’s what he told you. it was mainly to ensure he was well-liked among them and no one would ever try to come between you.

the only people who ever did were a few snakes parading as your friends trying to steal him away from you, trying to seduce him, and getting too close for his comfort. you were too sweet to notice and always forgave it if you did, but he noticed their lingering eyes and was disgusted. it was the one time he allowed his mask to slip, calling them out for being human garbage with a polite smile on his face as they gasped in shock. if they tried to cry to you about how awful he was to them, he simply told you the truth and encouraged you to cut them off which you always did.

the garden he carefully cultivated of a normal domestic life was flourishing. you were so captivated by the colorful flowers he planted and the butterflies pollinating them that you didn’t notice how dirty his gloved hands were when ripping out anything that didn’t belong like weeds trying to sprout through the soil. he was always sure to take them off and discard them afterward, never daring to touch you with the sins of his life outside of you.

then you fell pregnant after months of trying, and while he was overjoyed at first with renovations in mind to turn one of the extra rooms into a nursery, there was an unease in him wondering if the child would turn out like him: a remorseless psychopath who would one day kill his own father as he did his. he would later by a few books about parenting, hoping that he could prevent that type of future.

time flew by and he hadn’t killed anyone in a while although he was still complicit in hundreds of deaths a year. his violent urges slowly calmed and his hand was only raised during ddakji matches, but even then, they were more gentle than before (which meant that they still stung and made their face swell up, but it was an improvement when in the past, he would sometimes hit them so hard that they could taste blood on their tongue). 

the effects of being a husband and soon-to-be father were changing who he was at his very core, but it didn’t change everything he’s already done.

he was stupid to think he could have such a picture-perfect life with the woman he loved after everything. for someone who meticulously plans out things down to each syllable of the words he spoke, he didn’t have the foggiest idea what to do once he was found out.

the law couldn’t touch him, but he didn’t care about the law, he cared about you and your unborn child. 

he ran his hand through his messy dark locks, sighing in frustration trying to think of a solution as he dug around the kitchen until he fished out an entire bottle of wine. he could manipulate himself out of this situation as he had done countless times before, he’s a snake with a forked silver tongue who could easily get his way just by flickering it, but the thought of lying to you again broke his once unfeeling heart. it would never be the same way again with your relationship tainted with distrust. the truth would have to come out eventually.

oh god, but what would he do without you? 

before he could begin to spiral for the fourth time that day about what would happen if you left him, the familiar sound of a keypad being pressed and the front door being unlocked. he froze in place, not expecting you to come back at that very moment— but he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. he wasn’t sure of anything, simply staring at you when you caught him hunched over the counter drinking straight from a bottle of wine and looking like a child whose mom just caught him sneaking a snack at two in the morning.

“oh god, i leave for a day and you’re already a wreck, what happened to the ji-cheol who’s always put together even when it’s raining?” you approached him casually, reaching up to mess around with his hair until he looked more like his usual self. there was an air of awkwardness you tried to hide and was successful for the most part, but he could read you easier than a book. you were nervous around him now, acting with slight fear and carefulness like you were inching around a predator, and even flinched when he hugged you to feel your presence and breathe in your scent. 

you hugged him back after a moment, looking up at him with your voice shaking, “if it’s really… that… then i understand it would be dangerous for you to tell me, so i won’t ask any more questions… i don’t… i don’t want to leave you and leave our child fatherless…”

if you were any other person in the world, he would have smirked at the fact that he didn’t need to bother trying to manipulate you into staying with him. he would have relished his control over you and how you came back in the end, free to continue killing and asking people to play a game with him to satisfy his sadistic desires. 

but you weren’t any other person in the world, you were his wife.

“you really forgive me? after knowing all that?”

“i guess love really does let you look past everything no matter how bad… at least you didn’t cheat on me as my friends suggested, that would be the real unforgivable offense…”

the topic of his occupation never came up again, but he made the choice to resign on account of it no longer fitting with his current lifestyle. the current frontman, who was an old friend of his, looked upon him fondly for his loyalty, thanked him for his service, and was even kind enough to use his connections to find him a new place to work. it was boring by his standards, but it paid well and wasn’t illegal, so he persevered. he now has plenty of things to tell you about his workplace, from the annoying co-worker who keeps showing him the most random unfunny things on the internet to how the coffee shop downstairs wasn’t half bad. mundane things that made you grin when he told you about his day, which was all that mattered to him.

you soon gave birth to a healthy baby girl with his eyes and your smile. the world became a lot brighter, even with all the sleepless nights of her crying and learning how to change diapers. she was a little joy born out of his love for you. 

finally, you’re both doing better, and he no longer has to hide himself away from you.

tag list!! @tric0rd / @solatiiium / @iloveragdollcats / @sugaremedy / @pear-1206 / @orangutanjazz / @boowiththegoo / @knoepfl / @miaasmf / @queenjang21 / @larissa-slays69 / @munch3025 / @qrstarz / @capital-koreasofia / @swiftieee4lifeee / @liliylikescats / @maryyyswift / @vaenys2 / @bane-y-zane / @dynaloy / @chunkzdeluluwife / @everyonelovestay / @tomhollandtoothbrush

there will not be a part three, thank you for reading!!

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green, Part 26

masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

“Hey, chum, you’re up early,” Bruce said, his own voice still rough with more exhaustion than sleep. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the mess of black hair as he passed the kitchen table. “Didn’t sleep great?”

Danny blinked up at Bruce. His startled eyes glowed faintly green eyes in the dim, more night than morning light of the kitchen. He clutched his coffee mug like a lifeline.

Bruce pulled his hand away from Danny’s hair and took a small step back. He kept his arms carefully relaxed at his side, palms forward. “I’m sorry Danny, was that too much touch? It’s fine if you feel it was. I was acting on habit, like I would with my other kids.”

“No, um, it was nice. I just didn’t think that you would… we were…,” Danny wiped at his eyes with his sweater sleeve in a jerky, frustrated motion. “Sorry. Just was a rough night, and I guess I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.”

“That’s more than understandable.”

It was only the second day after Danny had told them everything. The kids had spent that first night building an impressive pillow fort and watching movies all night. The day after was basically a game of distracting Danny. It wasn’t a surprise that it was all hitting Danny now.

“Do you need any more coffee?” Bruce offered.

Danny offered up his cup silently and Bruce too it over to the kraft. Coffee with creamer for Danny while Bruce added a splash of creamer and sugar to his own. He took the seat next to Danny when he got back to the table, careful not to step on Ursa, who was sleeping under the chairs, snuggled against Danny’s blue bear.

“Danny, you’re my kid, chum.”

Danny looked down at his coffee. “I’m your clone.”

“You’re a child,” Bruce said gently. “Specifically you’re a child with my genetic make-up. You just have more of it than normal. That doesn’t make you any less my kid. I… can be bad at words. I am, often, especially when it matters most. I say a lot more through actions and touch. I am trying to be better. Danny, you are my kid. This is your home whenever you need it to be, and I love you as much as any of my children. You don’t have to earn or wait for it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Danny said with a sniffle as he scrubbed at his eyes again. “Can I—is it okay to ask for a hug?”

Bruce held open is arms and Danny flung himself into them. Bruce pressed another kiss to Danny’s hair. “More than.”

-

After breakfast, showering, and more coffee and tea than was probably healthy for one family to consume, those that were still in the house settled outside on the patio. They watched Dick and Danny frolic about with the dogs in the yard; Damian was watching from the sidelines.

“Damian is going to be tackled by a dog soon,” Tim commented, almost absently, as he glanced up from his tablet.

“Yeah, he totally is,” Duke agreed. He was stretched out in his chair, feet up on an ottoman, and half looking like he was ready to fall back asleep.

Bruce smiled slightly. “I’m sure that he’ll manage to survive the attack.”

“After screaming about it,” Jason added.

Bruce nodded in agreement. There probably would be screaming; it would wake Duke up. At least it would be a lively mid-morning. It’s a shame that Danny was still healing, or they could go swimming later. Well, the pool would still be there another day. They had time.

“So,” Tim said. He glanced up from his tablet again to catch Bruce’s attention. “What are your plans about Danny?”

Jason snorted. “So clinical, Timbit.”

Tim flicked Jason off.

Bruce sighed, “Boys.”

“Bruce,” the two of them chirped together, utterly unrepentant.

Bruce valiantly resisted the urge to sigh again. “I’ll arrange a press conference once we are sure that his back story and papers are iron clad. I’m sure that Barbara has already been work on it, along with you, Tim.”

Tim just shrugged, unrepentant. “It seemed prudent to. We haven’t decided anything concrete, though Babs may have started to hack into things in Michigan to have access down the right bread crumbs. We figured sticking midwest was best, even if he doesn’t have much of an accent.”

Bruce hummed in reply.

“What’s going to be your excuse for his scars?” Jason asked.

It was true there would be no hiding them.

“His mother was a casual affair,” Bruce said. He pulled together the threads of a plan as he spoke. “She never let me know that she was pregnant, though after being abroad for a time she did reach out to me hoping to meet up in a few months. I thought nothing of it until Danny showed up. We were old acquaintances but never socially that close. It turns out that she died in child birth before we could ever meet again. Danny went to live with a someone estranged aunt. While the inheritance money from his mother’s estate lasted, things were neglectful but manageable. When it started to not live up to the Aunt’s desired lifestyle, she became cruel and methodical in her abuse.

“Desperate and trapped, Danny started to look for new hiding places in the house. It lead him to finding his mother’s journals. Her thoughts, some old letters, and the occasional picture. He started to put things together. He risked taking his Aunt’s cellphone one evening when she was drunk and looked me up. He made a plan to come this way however he could manage. Enraged at losing her meal ticket, and social standing with him, the aunt went into a rage. She died in a drunk car accident when she drove into a light post the same night Danny ran.”

“Right. You’re scarily good at that,” Jason said after a beat. “I guess then we just go more with the truth. He arrived in Gotham, got stabbed, and ended up on the Bat’s radar. They took care of him of him until he was ready to tell his story and meet you.”

“That’s two more people that we need to make a paper trail for,” Tim grumbled.

“Annalise Linwood. I met her in boarding school,” Bruce said softly as he watched his children play. “I would be seen in her company on and off throughout the years. She had reached out to me for help on how to approach the birth of her child from an affair she was having. The father was a sometimes violent sort who she had used to think she could save. She died in childbirth, as did her child. Her estranged sister was her only living relative after a tragic accident with small aircraft the year before. The sister was reclusive unless she was drunk, or so Annalise had said once. It would be easy to assume she home schooled Danny and kept him out of the social eye. So, no, we just need to fake the paperwork for Danny.”

Bruce could feel Jason’s eyes on him.

“Oh.”

Bruce smiled softly, sadly. “It is changing the story of the dead, but Annalise was looking forward to being a mother. I think she would be alright with it, if it helped a child out.”

“Right, one set of paper trails,” Tim said quietly. “I’ll make sure Babs gets the information.”

There was a sudden shout from the lawn as Damian went down under the weight of Titus. Duke jolted awake and scrambled to not fall of his chair. Jason barked out a laugh as he tried to help catch Duke. Tim took photos. Danny ran over to help Damian, Ursa on his heels.

Yes, Bruce thought, Annalise would be alright with this.

---

an: great, now I'm emotional over a filler oc I made! ;-;

[lesbiansforeddiediaz]

The Diaz parents are shitty parents but they aren't shitty in an exaggerated or caricatured way. Ramon wasn't trying to make Eddie into anything specific, there wasn't an expectation of perfection, he was just trying to raise him to be a man in the way that he perceived what being a man meant. Helena was not consciously trying to make Eddie into her pseudo husband/coparent/whatever but she still put those expectations onto him. Even now with them taking Chris and alienating him from his own father they are not doing it as a deliberate way to hurt Eddie but because they have convinced themselves this is the best solution. It's awful in a way that's so difficult to come to terms with because on the surface it just looks like a genuine effort, despite the hurt and damage it caused (and is still causing). But what they are doing now (and what Helena has been doing always) requires for a genuine cruelty and callousness towards Eddie even if it isn't conscious.

[yanmuffins]

I've been thinking and I've come to the conclusion that it wouldn't make much sense for Bruce to neglect one of his children.

Think about it, in canon, most of the mistakes he made that ended up harming his family were either because he was completely buried in work, or because he was slightly manipulated, both by the narrative and by third parties.

In addition, he also cannot fully communicate with others, both because of his early trauma, the loss of his parents, and all the loneliness caused by the grief he went through growing up. Not to mention the years of self-discipline and training he went through to become Batman. From everything he's seen and experienced, and all the scars he has, I can't imagine how much that grief and and especially a sense of justice, survived.

so I don't think he would simply neglect one of his children

What I propose is; accidental negligence. Think about it, if he is busy all the time with both Batman and his other persona, Brucie Wayne, and then the justice league, investigations, meetings of Wayne Enterprise, galas, charities, other rich people, the usual rogues gallery of Gotham, etc, etc, I don't think he has much time to spend with anyone.

He is able to spend more time with his other children because they are all vigilantes, like him, and are usually just as busy as he is. Having a civilian child in the middle of this mess wouldn't do much good, especially if that child doesn't know what they do most of the time, like, y'know, vigilantlism.

Imagine everyone's absolute horror when they realize, after the p&f reader is unfortunately busted, that they paid so little attention to that child that she managed to do all these crazy things right under their noses for the whole summer. And who's to say she hadn't been doing this before this summer? How many things have they inevitably missed in her life?

What I mean is that to counter the p&f reader's luck, everyone in the batfam is unlucky enough not to be able to spend time with her. And they are aware of it.

Their guilt would be immense and the angst would be delicious.

(And it would explain how Damian hás time to spend with p&f reader, since he's a kid and his only obligations are school, socialization and being Robin, so he would technically have more time??? If that even makes sense???)

context &. context.

YOU!! YOU GET IT!!

I wholeheartedly agree!

Not that "accidental" neglect is any better, it's neglect all the same and has negative consequences in so many levels. But when we're talking about Bruce Emotionally Constipated And Terrible At Communication and Could Sometimes Make Better Choices Regarding His Kids Wayne, it could absolutely happen.

I'm not one to make character analysis because I have very shallow knowledge of Batman lore, but...

Like you said, all of Bruce's children participate in vigilantism. They're all extraordinary, most have horrible trauma, and have relied on Bruce for guidance. They are all Robin, and more relatable to him, in a way. That means he's consequently more involved in their lives, more physically there engaging with them, forming an emotional bond, acting as a mentor and father figure. On top of that, like you said, he has a whole life as Bruce Wayne and Batman going on.

Which brings us to neglected! Reader, more specifically mine: P&F! Reader and Vampire! Reader.

On a... financial, material level, I believe they wouldn't want for anything. Alfred is the one managing their bank account and making sure they're well-provided for and though it's fun for angst purposes, I don't think they would have a tiny little bedroom isolated from everyone in the manor, mostly because it's our favorite butler who would select which bedroom Bruce's child would be staying at in this gigantic mansion with plenty unocuppied rooms. Alfred would NOT put you in the broom closet. It would be a bedroom that's at least as big as Damian's in Son of Batman, for example.

(I more than understand suspension of disbelief and playing around with all sorts of interesting concepts and characters, so I'm not criticizing anyone!)

In fact, I think it's kinda worse that, say, you have a bedroom that's a wall across from Tim's and he still kinda forgets you exist.

Also, I believe Bruce's kid would absolutely have access to a more than generous amount of money. Not broke at all.

So the only type of neglect going on here is of the emotional kind. Your father and your siblings have created tight-knit bonds amongst themselves based on their shared experiences and the proximity brought by them all working as vigilantes, and you're just not a part of the club.

Timing is also relevant.

P&F! Reader arrives at the manor some time after Damian, which means that not only have all relationships been formed over the years, Bruce has also experienced having kids, as well as having a biological child suddenly enter his life. They're a fish out of the water, and their dad is kinda awkward about this (apparently) normal child that showed up at his doorstep. While Damian is still kind of adapting, running around at night trying to bypass Bruce's security system and solve dangerous cases by himself, P&F! Reader is in their bedroom having a virtual sleepover with their Metropolis friends, streaming movies and eating caramelized popcorn.

Fun fact: Damian and P&F! Reader are neighbors. He was not happy about Alfred placing his half-sibling on the room right beside his for the longest time. P&F! Reader has definetly caught him sneaking out, but they're no snitch. And you're right, he does have more free time, and he's also on summer break so no school and no homework to worry about. He's got free time to be his sibling's keeper.

And as we all know, the impression that P&F! Reader is just a normal regular kid that totally doesn't build ridiculous thingamabobs in their spare time, it's kinda easy to forget they're there amidst the Wayne family mayhem(s). Bruce is also kinda doesn't really know what to do with this kid or how to connect with them, but they don't really demand immediate attention and seem to be doing fine – so he probably shouldn't worry too much, right?

You could also argue that he's kinda awkward (emotionally constipated) with this kid and is very bad at consoling and accomodating them after the trauma that made them have to move in with him. He doesn't straight up forget they exist, although he starts paying more attention to them after Damian gets more involved in ther bio sibling's antics. And when it comes to siblings, it's just easier for their relationship to never evolve past more superficial interactions (with the exception of Damian who decides to mind P&F! Reader's business earlier on, more or less). P&F! Reader doesn't know about the vigilantism for a long time, so it's natural that they're excluded from any and all matters regarding that. And because everyone else is so busy with their own lives and P&F! Reader seems to be doing fine, so easy to overlook, has plenty of friends in and out of their new school and the Batfam is already a formed unit... Well, you get the picture.

There's also the matter of Damian. He is the kid that "needs more attention" because of his background. He's been through a lot. Nevermind the possibility that you might also have gone throguh your own fair share of trauma, at the end of the day you're the easier kid. The "okay" kid with regular problems. Which is sad and unfair, but that's what we're here for, isn't it? And Dick is the biggest offender when it comes to that.

Not that P&F! Reader is bothered by any of that! They have an amazing summer ahead of them. 😎 It's definetly Batfam being unlucky that prevents them from spending time with P&F! Reader, but that allowed them to mostly enjoy summer without being smothered by their family. The guilt would be unmatched, that is for sure.

"And who's to say she hadn't been doing this before this summer?"

Hehe :)

Vampire! Reader (she was not mentioned but I'm talking about her anyway, spoilers for the fic because i want to rant) is a different story. Again, timing. She arrived at the manor sometime between Dick leaving for Bludhaven and Jason being brought in, so she didn't really get a chance to develop a deeper emotional connection with Dick. That also means Bruce was a lot younger when he is faced with a biological child being thrown at his door, not to mention the less-than-ideal-circumstances in which she came to be in his custody.

And after trying to make her his newest sidekick didn't work, in the coming years he would dedicate most of his time to fighting crime as Batman and taking care of/mentoring Jason who had a rough past and is now his new sidekick. Connecting and relating to Jason was easier than connecting with Vampire! Reader, but he always made sure to check on her and make sure she was okay (and the answer was always yes, because of course it was).

During this time Jason and Vampire! Reader were actually pretty close, but then he, uh. Kinda died horrifically. So not only was Vampire! Reader dealing with the loss of her brother, her father was now full-on neglecting her, self-absorbed in his grief, so she felt the proper thing to do would be repress her emotions to accomodate her father and try to be his emotional support. Not that it worked, but she was there! So we have the emotional neglect and we have Vampire! Reader starting to take a parental role for her own father because he's not being a parent for her. She was also completely alone in that huge manor with the exception of Alfred because none of the other kids were in the picture yet, and Dick had long since moved out. As you can see, not very nice :)

From then on she just kinda blends into the background. Financially she's provided for. She is her father's daughter, so communication and expressing emotion are not her forté, but she tries her best to connect with the incoming batkids. It does not work. I have said this before, but she is the mature child, the (again) normal one who puts other people's needs before her, so she doesn't complain when Bruce makes time for literally every other kid who becomes Robin except her. But don't be mistaken: Bruce is definetly more controlling and aware of Vampire! Reader in comparison to P&F! Reader due to reasons (guess you can say early yandere signs?). Jason too is... Sort of complicated. The situation here is definetly darker and resonates with tone of the story better. And when Bruce realizes how terrible he was? Oh, boy.

So I guess you can play around a lot with the neglectful! Reader trope, and that's what makes it so entertaining. Yeah. That's all I have to say for today, I guess??

[sinofwriting]

Faking It - Max Verstappen

Words: 850 Summary: Max finds out his girlfriend faked an orgasm. Note(s): NSFW, Talks of Sex, Mention of Semi-Public Sex. Part of a kind series where drivers find out reader faked an orgasm.

Max pauses just before the entryway to the living room. “Have you ever y’know?” His brows furrow at the vague question from his girlfriend’s best friend.

“Have I ever what?”

“Faked it. Have you ever faked an orgasm?”

She scoffs, “Before Max, yes.”

His cheeks turn a bit pink at the conversation he was overhearing, but he also stands a bit taller.

He knew that their sex life was good, that she was getting orgasms, they had of course talked about it, but it was different hearing her talk to someone else about it with no idea he was there.

His brows furrowed in confusion when she speaks again, “well, I don’t really know if it counts as faking it.”

“What?”

“I mean, there’s been a few times when we’ve had sex where I didn’t orgasm.”

His mind starts screaming at him, because what? He always made sure she came, usually before he did.

“Not because it wasn’t good or because I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t.” He can practically see the shrug she gives. “The sex was still good though.”

“Y/N!” Her friend screeches and it breaks up a little through the phone.

The words replay in his head as he goes back to their bedroom, lying down on the bed. He tries to think of when she would have faked it but nothing comes to mind. He’s so wrapped up in his head he doesn’t hear her call his name or get onto the bed until she’s laying down on top of him, his arms instinctively wrapping themselves around her.

“What you thinking about?” She asks, pressing kisses to his jaw.

It normally relaxes the feeling of her lips pressed against his skin but not quite where he wants them, a lovely prelude to before she kisses him, but he can’t get past what he heard and he’s never been practically shy.

“When did you fake it? Having an orgasm with me?”

Her fingers pause where they had begun to lift his shirt to slide under. “Max, it’s not a big deal.”

His frown deepens and he’s pushing her upwards so they can look at each other. “Yes, it is. I always thought that I made you orgasm, usually first. And now I’ve found that isn’t true.”

She shakes her head. “You do! I promise you do.”

He doesn’t say anything and she sighs.

“It’s only happened twice.”

He doesn’t know if he’s relieved that it only happened twice or pissed that he failed twice. It should have never happened but twice was far too much.

“The first time was after the FIA gala last year.”

His eyebrows furrow, “But you talk about that night a lot.”

“It was a good night. I felt good, amazing. I loved everything we did, I just wasn’t able to orgasm. I didn’t feel unsatisfied or anything. Especially not with my wake-up call.”

He smirks at the reminder of the next morning. He had woken up just as the sun was rising and had ducked under the covers and ate her out until she was begging for him to stop. His jaw and tongue had ached for hours after, but it was worth it for the taste of her stayed just as long.

“The second time was in China. I just couldn’t stop thinking about what if someone walked in.”

“So, I didn’t fuck you good enough.”

She slaps his chest lightly, sending him a disbelieving look. “I was limping a little after. And you're lucky I was wearing those heels and everyone believed me when I said I twisted my ankle.”

“I’m sorry.” Max apologizes again, picking up her hand and kissing it. He still felt a little bad that their first foray into semi-public sex had been so rough. “Why didn’t you tell me though? That I didn’t make you come?”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal to me.” She tells him. “I love having sex with you, it always feels good regardless of me orgasming or not. And in those two instances I was just happy to be that close to you.”

He stares at her, looking deep into her eyes. He still feels like he’s failed but the way she’s looking at him, all gentle wide eyes filled with truth. “I’ll let it go.”

She snorts and he covers her mouth with his hand.

“But only if you tell me next time. Just so I can immediately make it up to you.” He says, removing his hand as he says the last word.

“Okay, I’ll tell you next time.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs, pressing their lips together.

She hums into the kiss, her one hand slipping out of his and returning to the hem of shirt, drawing it up so she can slip her hands underneath and his stomach flexes at the feeling of her fingertips and he’s rolling them over. Easily putting himself in between her legs.

“Feel like making a mess for me?”

She lets out a happy little sigh, teeth lightly sinking into her bottom lip as she nods. “Please?”

“Of course.”

[captain-bubble-wrap]

You have to do it! Grocery shopping with Quinn! 🛒 ☺️

Because of those shopping gifs, huh? I know the ones!

"Ready, babe?" Quinn spoke louder than his usual, putting on his flat-billed hat in the mirror while he waited for you at the door. He had been ready to go for a few minutes but would never purposefully rush you, especially for something as mundane as grocery shopping. He really didn't want to go but the house was looking a little bare and the fridge was near depleted of anything fresh. It was simply time to go.

Quinn had told you that he was fine going solo but you had insisted on keeping him company, and didn't think it fair to make him go alone when you used equally as much of everything as he did, if not more especially when he was on the road.

"Yeah, I'm ready!" You said, hurrying from somewhere else in the apartment. You were still buttoning your coat when you got to his side.

"You look cute," he commented, wrapping his arms around you for a moment.

You smiled, "Thanks, babe! You don't look too bad yourself!"

Quinn would laugh and give you a quick kiss before opening the door for you. You had no idea where the two of you were headed, but anywhere with Quinn was a good place to be. Outside, it was much colder than it was normally due to the Artic blast moving through the region, and it made being outside quite uncomfortable. Thankfully, you wouldn't have too far to walk, in any of your errand stops, but when the air hurt to breathe -- it was never ideal.

"I don't think I've ever missed the rain so much in my life," you joked, climbing into the passenger seat.

"This isn't my favourite either," he replied clicking both seat warmers on as soon as the car was started. "Won't take long now. You know you can stay home, babe. No sense in you being cold if you don't have to."

"I know, but I don't want you to go alone!"

Quinn shook his head as he smiled, "Babe--"

"I know, I know, you don't mind," you mocked him playfully. "But I mind, so I'm going with you!"

"You're ridiculous," he laughed. "Alright, well, if you're sure. Off we go."

- - -

"I'm going to drop you at the door then I'll go find a parking spot," Quinn said, pulling into the lot. "And before you say anything, I want you to go inside and be warm."

Mustering the deepest pout you could, you looked at Quinn as the car came to a stop, but he wasn't having any part of it. "Quinn--"

"Babe, just trust me, please."

"Fiiiiiine," you whined, slipping out of the car and going into the store alone. You'd stay just inside the automatic doors and wait to see where he parked. Everyone and their mothers seemed to be out shopping today, forcing Quinn to have to park in the near back lot. He looked so miserable as he rushed toward the store, trying to duck down in to his coat as his hands were buried in his pockets. When the double doors opened, he'd make his way to you, his cheeks red from the harsh air.

"Brrr!" Quinn remarked, putting an arm around you. "It's cold in here, too!"

"Says the hockey player!"

He laughed, sheepishly, "It's not that cold on the ice like it is outside!"

"Fair enough," you teased. "Basket or cart?"

"Probably cart. Stock you up before I go out of town next week."

You looked down at being reminded that Quinn would soon be leaving for more games away from home. Your bed wouldn't be as warm, there would be no one to share a bath with before bed, no one to laugh with over dinner in the evenings, and the apartment would soon be deafly quiet. Being unable to keep your expression from dropping, you would turn your face away from him for a moment to keep from crying in public.

Quinn, always in tune with your usual moods would notice this change and would ask you about it after returning from getting you both a cart. "You got quiet, babe. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you mumbled, picking up a random item to look at it as if you were interested in taking it home.

"I didn't think you liked peanut butter," he quipped, leaning over your shoulder at the package of fudge you were holding.

"I-- don't," you said, unable to lie, and putting it back on the display you had robbed it from. Your cover was blown before you could even get behind it. Damn Quinn for being so quick sometimes, though you knew he hated when you kept things from you, namely when things were bothering you.

"Did I say something?" Quinn questioned, his hand resting on your waist, hoping you'd look at him.

"No, baby, it's me being sad over you leaving," you finally confessed, only looking at him after you had spoken your truth. "I'm just-- being a baby."

"You're my baby," he would whisper in your ear, in the hopes that it might make you smile if only because of how cringe it had been. "I know you don't like when I leave, and trust me, I know how it feels."

Your eyes were beginning to sting, fighting against your emotions, "I know it's your job, Quinn. I'm not trying to be one of those girls who comes off all spoiled and selfish. I just-- I just miss you."

Quinn smiled, bringing his lips to your forehead while you still faced him. "I know you do, and I don't think you're being selfish. You understand that this is my life. No one says it's easy, sweetheart."

With a sigh you leaned into him, face buried in the curve of his neck. At the moment, you didn't care that you were in public, having an episode of emotional weakness. You were in Quinn's arms and safe, everyone else could kick rocks. They didn't need to understand.

"Do you want to go home, babe?" He asked, leaning his head against yours.

You wouldn't answer him, you'd just shake your head slightly.

"For what it's worth, I'm not gone yet," he said with a smile in his tone.

This would get you to pull your eyes back to his. He had a point, and one that you were thankful for.

"I sorry, Quinn," you apologized solemnly. "I shouldn't be that way."

He kissed you again, knowing it often fixed things when you were feeling down, but he felt that you were struggling. "You're perfectly fine. I should be more careful with my words."

"You don't need to do that. I'll be okay. Maybe one day it won't hurt as bad-- but...I dunno."

Frowning, Quinn would touch your cheek, but his hands were cold. You'd take it in both of yours and try your best to give him a smile. "I love you. Sorry you have to put up with me like this."

"I just hope I help instead of making you sad."

"You do, I promise."

On that positive note, the two of you would finally get back to the reason of why you were there in the first place. "Should we get to shopping?" He laughed.

"Probably!"

- - -

"Bread?" He asked, standing before a literal wall of options.

"Oh, yeah! Sourdough!"

"Which is--," he stammered, watching you pinpoint the loaf you were after before he could finish his question. "That-- was oddly impressive."

"I know my bread!"

"That you do," he laughed, as you placed in in the cart. "What else do you want?"

Looking at the contents of the cart, you wondered if there was anything else that you needed. There was meat, vegetables and fruit, there were even a couple bottles of wine, and nothing else was ringing in your brain that you needed to get. That would likely hit you only after you were home.

"I can't think of anything. Is there anything you want?"

Quinn looked just as lost as you did which is probably why he laughed at your question. "I can't think of anything either."

"Oh! I know!" You said, excitedly. "I've been craving breaded shrimp!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! Remember those sushi rolls I made with the fried shrimp, avocado and cucumber?"

His face lit up at the mention of sushi, "Those were so good! Are you saying we're having sushi for dinner?"

"Of course!"

- - -

"Here, take my card. I'm going to run out and get the car started and then I'll meet you out front and get them loaded, okay?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said before placing another kiss your forehead. "Wait for me inside, please."

Not wanting to argue with him when he was being so kind and considerate, you nodded while he headed for the harsh world outside the store. It would take a while to get everything scanned and bagged, but eventually the time had come to brace for going back out into it.

Quinn was right where he said he would be, the silver SUV rolling into view when he saw you waiting there. He'd get out and insist on taking the cart while you got into the warmed interior of the car.

"I can help you," you begged, talking to him from the front seat.

"It's alright, babe, you just sit tight. I'm alright. Hockey player, remember?"

You'd roll your eyes at him while smiling. "I offered."

"I know you did, and I appreciate it."

Once everything was said and done, the heat was set on full as the two of you headed off from the grocery; safe and sound from the blistering wind battering the car.

"Anywhere else we need to go?" He asked, a cold hand finding your thigh.

"I just want to go home."

"Home it is."

[ivyues]

A Snowy Promise - Lee Know

With his enlistment approaching, Lee Know contemplates building a deeper commitment with you.

It had been snowing all day, the gentle flakes turning the streets into a quiet, glistening world of white. The snow was the reason you stayed at home today, crushing your plans, instead leaving you cozy and content indoors.

Here, the muffled sound of the snowstorm was replaced by the occasional soft clink of your mugs on the coffee table and the low hum of a playlist you'd chosen. The familiar weight of a shared blanket draped over your legs added to the sense of calm, grounding you in the moment.

Lee Know leaned back against the couch, his arm resting casually around your shoulders, while his other hand laid under the edge of the blanket, his fingers absently tracing gentle, aimless patterns against the fabric. The two of you had spent hours talking, covering everything from small, inconsequential topics – how his new choreography was coming along, the places you wanted to visit one day – to deeper subjects that made the minutes blur into hours.

Now, a lull settled between you, the kind of silence that felt natural, comforting rather than awkward. He turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unspoken in his eyes, a softness and an intensity all at once, like he was searching for the right words.

He inhaled deeply before saying, "You know things are going to change soon, right? With… everything coming up for me." You nodded, understanding immediately what he meant. His military enlistment had been a quiet but persistent shadow over the horizon, something neither of you spoke about too often but both felt deeply.

"I’ve been trying to picture it," he continued, his voice tinged with a vulnerability he didn’t show often. "Being away for that long, and coming back to… well, I want to come back to you. To us. And I was wondering if… getting married is something you’d want—" He paused, his lips quirking into a soft smile. "As a promise."

The way he said it, so tentative yet hopeful, made your heart ache. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t asking for a definitive answer. It felt more like he was letting you in on a dream he’d been holding close, a quiet hope he wanted to share with you.

What you didn't know about were all the times he’d found himself looking at jewelry, rings especially, without meaning to. He’d ignored it at first, dismissing it as idle curiosity or just passing ideas, but now he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been more. The thought of choosing something for you, something that could say all the things he couldn’t quite put into words, tugged at the edges of his mind

You looked at him with wide eyes, your hand reaching instinctively for his under the blanket. "I’ve been thinking about it too," you admitted. "Not marriage, exactly, but… how I’d handle you being away. I try to think of it like you’re just on tour for a long time," you said softly, the words coming carefully as you worked through your own emotions. "It’s not forever. And knowing you’re coming back to me, that we could build something—together—would maybe make it less scary."

His lips curved into a faint smile at that, the kind that made his eyes crinkle just slightly at the corners. He glanced at you with an expression that was equal parts affection and relief.

"I’d like that," he murmured. "But I don’t want to rush you, or make this feel like it’s happening just because of the timing. This year’s going to be so busy, and you deserve... more. You deserve me doing this the right way, not something rushed before I leave."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and you laced your fingers through his, grounding yourself in the steady warmth of his hand. "You don’t have to do anything perfectly for me," you said, your voice steady despite the emotion welling up inside you. "Just... keep coming back. I’ll wait for you."

And as he sat there, his hand still in yours, a thought struck him – a quiet resolve he didn’t speak aloud. It wasn’t just about serving and fulfilling a duty; it was about the future waiting for him on the other side. Coming back to you, his fiancée by then – or maybe even his wife – was the image that kept him steady. It was the thought of building a life with you, one step at a time, that made the prospect of leaving more bearable.

masterlist

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ [𝒎.𝒍 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆]

pairing: idol!mark lee x needy!afab reader

genre: smut, 18+ content ahead. minors dni ˚₊ · »-♡→ inspired by this nsfwtwt post!!

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: sometimes your shyness gets the better of you when it comes to being intimate with mark. it's a good thing your boyfriend doesn't mind giving orders.

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, explicit language, teasing/foreplay, fingering, brief mention of fisting, pet names (nothing degrading)

🖤 - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋcheck out my masterlist! ࿐ྂ

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

You were so, so incredibly shy around your boyfriend sometimes. Especially if things got intimate. Even though you had been together for so long, you couldn't help yourself. He was just too goddamned perfect for you to ever truly exist around him - to ever let loose.

And Mark knew this, despite your best efforts to try and hide the shyness and anxiety that would bubble up in your tummy and sprout forth in your mind whenever he was around. It was so noticeable to him - from the way you'd pull away slightly each time he started making out with you, or how you'd whimper just a little bit each time he teased you mercilessly.

Deep down, you think that Mark liked the shyness. Even if it meant he had to take things a little slower at times, or talk you through certain feelings and thoughts. He loved to care for you, after all. He fucking adored you and worshipped the ground you walked on. So he didn't seem to mind it too much.

That's how you found yourself in your current position: completely bare expect for the thin pink-and-white panties that covered your heat, limbs sprawled haphazardly across your yellow daisy-printed bedspread. And with Mark bare on top, his broad, sculpted shoulders gleaming in the dark.

The moon's light shone somewhere in the distance of your peripheral vision, casting an ominous, cool tone to everything in your shared bedroom. Mark's own figure was shrouded in hues of blue, thanks to the nearby curtains that shielded the two of you from the chaotic world outside.

Your boyfriend was staring down at you, walnut-brown eyes already a little blown out and hooded. You could feel the blush begin to creep up the column of your neck, the unmistakable flutter of nervousness cascading throughout your entire system, aching in your jugular.

"Baby..."

Is all he said at first. Voice a soft whisper, staring down at you like nothing else in the entire world mattered to him right then. Or ever, really. He was kneeling back on his heels, warm palms grounding you by resting atop your bare knees.

"I-I know, Mark... just, give me a second. Yeah?" You started to say, swallowing down the strangled groan that wanted to burst forth from your mouth. You didn't know why you were getting shy - the two of you had been in this exact same positions hundreds of times.

But sometimes, it was simply the presence of Mark Lee that left you teetering over the edge. That left you unbalanced in a way that was so very delicious and yet daunting all at the same time. It forced bees to erupt in your tummy just as it sent a rippling of heat through your entire bloodstream.

The way he always gave you so much attention - called you the prettiest named, gave you all of the love that you could ever ask for. The way he was always so fucking in-tune with your needs and wants. You never even had to tell him what you wanted, because 95% of the time, he'd already know before you could get it out.

At the smidge of stuttering in your voice, Mark leaned closer into your form, mouth hovering over one of your knees. His lips ghosted across the skin there, before he was giving it a gentle kiss. "You always get like this, babydoll. Just take some deep breaths, okay? I gotchu." His eyes never fled from yours, as he spoke against your flesh.

His mouth touching even the littlest semblance of your skin left your craving more in the most insane of ways. It made the feral beast deep inside of you start to claw its way out of its holds in the dungeons of your heart. It left you whining out quietly, "But Mark- please-"

But he was already beginning to shake his head, his fingers pressing into the sides of your knees. And you knew it was too late. The switch was flipped almost instantly across his face - from the sound of you crying out his name, from the vision of you lying underneath him practically naked.

"Now... open up and show me, princess. I wanna see your pretty pussy lips," he said in the darkest of voices, lips kiss swollen from your earlier make out. Slowly, he was prying your legs open. And you let him, despite the incessant pounding beneath your ribcage. Despite the wetness that had soaked through your panties long before your toppling onto the bed.

Almost as quickly as it started, it stopped. And Mark had you right where he wanted you. Completely open and spread for him, slick running down your soft thighs, the moonlight filtering in through the nearby windowpane and casting a glittering shine of quicksilver across your stomach. Truly, it was a sight that only the Greek Gods could've conjured up - could have painted with their ethereal brushstrokes.

At your submission to him, Mark was smirking incrementally. "See? Wasn't that hard to listen to me, was it?" His mouth found the inside of your knee, as he began a trail of wet kisses down your leg. Drawing closer to your aching heat.

"Baby- don't tease me. Please..." You found yourself moaning out, head tossing and turning across the white downy pillows.

Mark's focus flashed from your covered pussy up to your face that was red with a flush. "Why? You're so fucking cute when I tease you."

"Because- I don't need your fingers right now. I need your cock." You cried outloud, just as his palm found the mound at the centre of you that was barely covered by the wet mesh fabric of your panties.

Raising a dark eyebrow in question, Mark let out a deep chuckle. "Funny... 'cause I've barely touched you and you're already dripping," he said with a sardonic laugh. Without any warning, he was pushing your panties aside, swiping his fingers up your cunt, pressing his digits to your swollen clit.

Your spine convulsed across the bedsheets at the immediate contact, and you had to hold everything in yourself back to nog come undone right then and there.

"Guess you don't want me fingering you, though-" Mark started to say with a taunt, even though he began to dip two fingers into your entrance and curl them towards the sky. Immediately, he found that gooey, warm spot inside of you. Pressing up against it, massaging it, he elicited a string of breathless cries from you. "Such a shame, because stretching this tiny pussy open is one of my favorite pastimes."

Just then, he started to pull his fingers out, and at the feeling of the drawling absence you haphazardly shot one of your hands down to meet his between your legs. Quickly taking ahold of his wrist, you shoved his fingers back into you.

Giving him a sheepish smile, you giggled lightly. "A-actually wait. Hold on, maybe... maybe you can finger me for a little bit longer." You both knew he had been teasing you and wasn't asking for your permission to stop or begin anything. You had given everything to him freely a long time ago, and by the looks of your shaking thighs and dripping cunt, your body had submitted to him all the same.

Your boyfriend's pearly canines flashed your way after that, against plump lips. "That's my good, pretty girl." He managed to fit three fingers in, pumping them in and out of you at a toe-curling pace. You rode the high, moving against his hand with a practiced kind of precision. "My pretty princess... so fucking tight and hot for me. Only me, right? You don't let anyone else fist you, hmm pretty girl?"

He slid a fourth finger into your entrance after that, the stretch so delicious your eyes rolled into the back of your skull and you swore you saw galaxies splash across your vision. Gradually, your hips lifted up from the bed in anticipation of your release.

"I didn't hear an answer, babydoll."

Mark's voice cut through your reverie of pleasure, and you stared up as him with a faint smile and blown pupils. It felt like you were looking through the rainbow-tinted glass of a kaleidoscope. "Y-Yeah, Mark. Only you."

He reached out to you, one hand taking a fir grasp of your hip and pressing you down into the bed the harder he pumped his fingers in and out of you. You were so wet, the slip and slide left the scent of sex and the lewd sound of lovemaking to resonate across the entire room.

"Need you to moan for me, okay princess? Let everyone know- the neighbors and the people below us... how good I give it to you. How good your boyfriend fucks this perfect pussy of yours." Mark said with a demanding kind of tone. Your high-pitched moaning began to lift your hips off of the bed again. This time, Mark took full action against you by dragging his hand away from your waist and pressing it against your tummy. Gradually, you could feel the weight of his warm palm meeting the thrusts of his fingers, as he ground his digits between your clenching walls and that golden spot deep inside of you. "C'mon, babydoll... moan for me."

And that's all it took for the screams of ecstasy to start falling from your lips.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊fin.

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[bitchface24-7]

HE’S A WHAT?! - VIKTOR X READER

synopsis: You're an exhausted student, plagued with too much assignments and riddled with insomnia. You've found an amazing ASMR artist called "The-Herald", their ASMR puts you to sleep almost instantly. Their voice immediately putting you into a drowsy state. So when you see a Patreon link regarding more videos, one specifically titled "Talking you through it | NSFW Audio (1mil subscriber) Special" It sparks your attention. Now you're hooked. Instead of being Pavloved into drowsiness, you've pavloved yourself into arousal. His voice sounds familiar though...

warnings: NSFW audio mentions, voice kink, masturbation, obsession, neediness, realizations, suggestiveness, grammarly is my beta, adding youtube and patreon to the arcane verse so lowkey a modern au! ???

genre: m/f

p.s. @melisshivering sent me a DM with a HOT Viktor NSFW audio (literally sounds so similar to him it's INSANE) and I came up with the idea with them for this fic. So send them some thanks as well if you enjoy this fic. I'll put the link at the end of the fic

As a top academy student alongside your friends Sky, Viktor, and Jayce, you're completely burnt out. Hours upon hours of studying, assignments, working on the campus library to help pay for your tuition. You're riddled with exhaustion that just won't go away, and insomnia is kicking your ass.

"The-Herald" has been your saving grace. His ASMR videos captivating you, helping you quiet your mind as you fall asleep. He keeps his face out of the frame in all his videos, but you can imagine how attractive he is; especially due to his voice. It kind of reminds you of Viktor's.

Are you hyper fixating on this creator due to his voice and your massive crush on Viktor? No. Shut up.

So imagine your surprise when you see a Patreon link for more content, NSFW content specifically. Well... it wouldn't hurt to check it out...

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You're addicted. Holy shit that audio couldn't have been any hotter. The orders, the praise, the degradation, the growly tone of his voice, the sound design.

Fuck... you don't think you've ever cum that hard before.

Your whining pants, your messy cunt, your aching wrist, and noisy bullet vibrator. You came in like ten minutes, you came again in less than two.

Who needs hookups when you've got The-Herald calling you a good girl in his sexy accent as he praises you for being good, and degrades you for being his personal slut.

Hopefully nobody finds out about your new obsession.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It's becoming bad how dependent you are on this man. You're constantly thinking about him. His voice, his words, how he makes you feel. He's honestly rivaling Viktor at this point for how bad of a crush you have on him; and you don't even know what he looks like.

You're down horrendous.

Like your entire libido revolves around this man.

You get one hell of a surprise on your next shift at the campus library.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here you are, doing your due diligence and retuning books to their proper shelves as you stop every once in a while to chat with your friends. Everything is awesome, it's great! Until Jayce throws a bomb at you.

"So, when're next uploading V?"

You pause your ministrations as Sky continues to work and the two men have a small conversation. Upload? What is Jayce talking about?

"Tonight, actually."

"Really? I though you only posted on Thursdays."

"Eh, I post when I want."

You butt in. No way... there's no way! "Uhhh... Post where? If you don't mind me asking." Jayce looks at Viktor and Viktor casually shrugs, "I run an ASMR channel. It helps me pay my tuition here, it's called The-Herald. Maybe you heard of it? It's been trending these past few weeks."

You accidentally drop a book.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

You've been masturbating to your friends voice, your crushes voice. You've pavloved yourself into arousal if Viktor says anything demeaning, praising, or that can pass as an order. You fucked up BIG TIME.

"What is wrong with you? Pick that up. You could've accidentally hurt yourself. Those textbooks aren't light you know?"

No goddamnit why?! It's like he can read your mind! You shudder out a sigh as you bend down and pick the textbook up, putting it away.

"Good girl."

A wheeze escapes you. Oh Viktor's just teasing you now and being an asshole about it. You look over your shoulder and see Sky and Jayce working together, Viktor is staring you down.

You quickly add, "Yeah I've seen it on my recommended tab. You've gotten quite popular, congrats!"

"Thanks, sweetheart." Viktor casually states, his eyes narrowed onto you as he smirks. He knows. He's gotta know! He's eyeing you down like you're a steak and he's starving.

Another hour passes by and you can feel Viktor's stare on you the entire time. Jayce and Sky pack up, Viktor stays behind.

His one reasoning being, "I don't have class tomorrow until three pm, the two of you have a class for seven in the morning. I can stay behind and make sure she gets home safe, you two can't."

Jayce and Sky can't argue with that logic, so they leave with some hugs and heartfelt goodbyes. Now it's just you and Viktor in this massive empty library.

"You're not very subtle you know." Viktor states as he runs a finger across multiple spines on the shelf, You put your tongue into your cheek, "What do you mean?"

"You've known about my channel for a while."

"You can't know that."

You turn around and Viktor's a few centimeters away from you, your noses are almost brushing together. His voice is quiet, but it damn near echoes in the silent library, "You shouldn't use a well-known nickname as your user ID. It kind of gives you away."

A sharp inhale is what he gets in response. Fuck. You didn't think about that. You assumed The-Herald was some stranger, not your friend. Not your crush.

"I didn't know it was you."

Viktor's eyebrow quirks up as he huffs in amusement, "You didn't know it was me? Wouldn't my voice give me away? My ah... accent isn't very common here."

"I didn't want to assume."

"So you subscribed to my NSFW channel, just cause?"

"I did that cause your voice is hot and it makes me cum quick."

Viktor steps back in some shock, his eyes minutely widened, "That was much more blunt than I expected."

You shrug, "It's the truth. I have a massive crush on you, this person's voice is remarkably similar to yours, there's dirty videos. One plus one equals two."

"You have a massive crush on me?"

You look down, trying to hide your face; Viktor doesn't let you. He pushes your head back up with his fingers under your chin, "Tell me sweetheart, be honest."

"Y-- Yes."

Viktor hums in satisfaction, "Well I have a crush on you too."

A beaming grin overtakes your face. Your eyes glittery, you're even lightly bouncing on the balls of your feet. He likes you back!

"I have a question for you. Would you like to join me on my NSFW channel? I'm getting tired of using my hand and imagining you. I can have you for real now; only thing is you'll need to stay quiet."

You just nod, giggling in excitement. Holy shit, Viktor's your boyfriend now. You get that glorious voice everyday. You get him.

"Good girl."

Ahhh, he's gonna kill you one day.

You're not complaining, what a way to go!

I speed-wrote this so if there is any grammar or spelling mistakes, no there isn't.

Here’s the link 😏:

[gf2bellamy]

protective — aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: hotch doesn't let you do your job because he's too worried content warnings: reader is sort of aware of hotch's feelings, bau surrounding unsubs house, reader is irritated

The team stood huddled near the black SUV, the air heavy with the weight of the situation. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the street.

The tension was palpable as Derek outlined the plan. 

“We’ll go in from the left,” Derek said, his voice calm as he nodded toward you, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. 

You shifted slightly, adjusting the weight of your vest as you nodded back, trying to push down the nervous energy thrumming in your veins. “Got it,” you replied, your tone firmer than you felt. 

Before you could fully process the plan, Hotch stepped forward. “No,” he interjected, his deep voice calm but resolute. “I’ll go with Derek.” 

The words hung in the air for a beat too long. His dark eyes met yours, unwavering. 

“Hotch—” you started to protest, but his sharp gaze silenced you. Not unkind, but firm.

He wasn’t giving you a choice. 

“This isn’t up for debate,” Hotch said, his tone softening slightly as he turned back to the group.

He began giving instructions, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Reid, take the back exit with JJ.” 

The team dispersed quickly, each moving to their assigned positions with practiced precision. But as the group spread out, you remained rooted in place, realizing you’d been left without a specific task. 

Hotch finally turned toward you, his expression unreadable. “You’ll stay here,” he said simply, gesturing to the black SUV. “We need someone ready to coordinate backup if this goes south.” 

Your stomach twisted at his words. Stay outside? That was it? After everything—after proving yourself time and time again—you were sidelined? 

Your jaw tightened, frustration bubbling under the surface. You opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself at the last second.

This wasn’t the time.

Not with the unsub barricaded in the house, the potential for danger at its peak.

“Yes, sir,” you said tersely, your voice clipped as you forced yourself to fall in line.

You didn’t miss the flicker of something in his eyes—was it guilt? Concern? Whatever it was, it was gone before you could figure it out. He gave you a small nod and turned back to join Derek. 

The others moved out, slipping into the shadows as they approached the house, leaving you standing next to the SUV with the bitter taste of frustration in your mouth.

You watched them go, your chest tightening as Hotch disappeared from view. 

You knew better than to second-guess him, especially in the field. But as you stood there, gripping your comms radio tightly, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d been benched for reasons that had nothing to do with strategy—and everything to do with Hotch’s unspoken worry. 

It was maddening. Yet, deep down, a part of you couldn’t entirely fault him for it.

Not when you knew the way he looked at you, how he couldn’t seem to keep the lines between personal and professional from blurring sometimes. 

Even now, as irritation simmered under your skin, you couldn’t ignore the subtle warmth creeping into your chest at the thought. 

Shaking your head, you forced the distraction away and focused on the radio, ears straining for updates. You couldn’t let yourself dwell on Hotch’s motives—not when the team was walking into the lion’s den. 

For now, you had a job to do. Even if it wasn’t the one you wanted. 

Hours later, the case was over. The unsub was in custody, and the adrenaline that had fueled you during the operation had long since burned out.

Now, you sat in the team’s jet, staring blankly out the window. 

A book rested in your lap, open to a page you hadn’t read a single word of.

Your thoughts circled back to Hotch’s orders from earlier, replaying his tone, his expression, his decision to sideline you. 

You sighed quietly, shifting in your seat, and let your eyes wander to the empty one in front of you. You’d intentionally picked a spot away from the others, hoping it would help ease the frustration still twisting in your chest. 

It didn’t. 

You tilted your head back against the seat, closing your eyes for a moment.

The sound of soft footsteps drew your attention. You opened your eyes to see Hotch making his way down the aisle. His gaze swept over the cabin before landing on you.

For a brief second, you considered pretending to be asleep, but the intensity in his eyes made it clear that wasn’t an option. 

He stopped next to your seat, his voice low enough not to draw the others’ attention. “Mind if I sit?” 

You hesitated, but only for a moment. With a small nod, you gestured to the empty seat across from you. 

Hotch lowered himself into the chair, his posture as straight and composed as ever, though his eyes held a flicker of something softer. He leaned slightly forward as he studied you. 

“You’ve been quiet,” he said finally, his tone careful, probing. 

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head as you closed the book and set it aside. “Didn’t think I had much to say,” you replied, the words laced with more bitterness than you intended. 

Hotch didn’t react, his expression remaining unreadable. “You’re upset about earlier,” he said plainly, cutting straight to the point. 

“Upset?” you repeated, meeting his gaze. “I was benched, Hotch. What do you think?” 

His jaw tightened slightly, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost gentle. “It wasn’t about your abilities.” 

“Then what was it about?” you pressed, leaning forward, unable to keep the frustration out of your tone. “Because it sure felt like I was being pushed aside for no good reason.” 

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face briefly before meeting your eyes again. “It was about risk. About keeping you safe.” 

You stared at him, his words sinking in like a stone dropping into a still pond. Part of you wanted to argue.

But another part—the part that couldn’t ignore the way his voice softened when he looked at you—understood. 

“Hotch,” you said, your voice quieter now, more measured. “I know you care about the team. About all of us. But you can’t make decisions like that—decisions that feel personal—on a case. It’s not fair. To me or to anyone else.” 

He looked down for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. When he looked back up, there was something raw in his eyes—something he rarely let show. 

“You’re right,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t fair. But that doesn’t mean I’d make a different choice.” 

The honesty in his words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. 

“I can’t separate how I feel about you from the job,” he continued, his gaze steady on yours. “And maybe that’s something we need to talk about. But not here.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. 

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the hum of the jet filling the silence. Finally, you nodded, your frustration giving way to something else entirely. 

“Okay,” you said softly, a small, tentative smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “We’ll talk.” 

Hotch gave a slight nod, a flicker of relief crossing his features before he stood.

As he walked back to his seat, you felt the weight in your chest begin to lift, replaced by a nervous anticipation that you weren’t sure how to process. 

[arabella0001]

my maladaptive dreaming kicking in

cn: just fluff, marriage&kids

you and satoru have only been apart for two days while he’s away on a mission with his students, but you already feel the weight of his absence. you reassured him multiple times that it was okay for him to go, even though he tends to overreact when it comes to how you’re feeling after delivering your second baby. and while you’re so grateful for all the love and support he’s given you, today was a rough day.

your two-month-old baby has been feeling worse than usual, crying inconsolably because of stomach pain. you’d hoped your seven-year-old daughter—who adores the baby—would be her usual patient self. but today, she threw a tantrum, refusing to listen to anything you said. all the while, the baby cried endlessly, and you didn’t even have a second to take care of yourself—your face was still unwashed, and the postnatal pain was nagging at you. your emotions felt completely out of control.

when satoru finally came home that evening, he called out softly, “sweetheart?” raising an eyebrow as he looked over at your daughter, his expression playful but concerned.

you didn’t greet him, didn’t kiss him, didn’t say a word. instead, you rushed to the bathroom, locking the door behind you and leaning against it as you tried to steady your breathing.

“baby, what’s going on?” he asked, his tone gentle.

“just... leave me alone for a second, satoru,” you managed to say through the door.

there was a brief pause before you heard his dramatic surrender, raising his hands “of course, my lovely wife. take all the time you need.”

he turned his attention to your daughter, crouching in front of her and noticing her pouty expression—one that reminded him so much of yours.

“hey, my little one,” he said softly, brushing her hair out of her face. “remember what i told you? let’s not make mommy sad, okay? when mommy’s sad, daddy gets sad too. she’s working so hard, so why don’t we work together to cheer her up, yeah?”

meanwhile, you sat on the cold bathroom floor, fighting back tears and guilt. you’d convinced yourself today would be easier—that your baby’s discomfort would ease up, that your daughter would be more patient, that everything would go smoothly. instead, nothing had gone right, and the pressure felt suffocating.

in the living room, satoru stayed busy. he played with your daughter, making her laugh again, or checked on the baby, gently rocking him in his tiny bed. but he couldn’t help glancing at the bathroom door, his usual playful expression fading into something more serious. he drummed his fingers against the couch, bit his nails as he stared beneath the rim of his glasses.

the second you stepped out of the bathroom, he was on his feet. his worried expression softened into a small smile as he walked up to you.

“my pretty wife,” he murmured, placing a hand on your back and pulling you close. “what happened? talk to me.”

“it’s okay, satoru. i’m sorry. let’s just—”

“no, no, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “we don’t do that here.” he led you to the bed, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap.

“talk to me,” he said again, his voice so gentle as you hesitated, looking anywhere but at him, but the moment your eyes met his, the tears started to fall, making his eyes widen a little.

“i’m so sorry, satoru,” you whispered, voice cracking. “i don’t want you to think i’m too dependent on you. i know how much i wanted you to keep working, and—”

“hey, stop,” he said softly, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed away your tears. “do you really think i’d ever feel that way about you having a bad day? i know how much you’re dealing with. and our feisty little girl?” he chuckled. “she’s not easy to handle, especially when you’re on your own. what can i say? she’s both of us combined.”

you let out a weak laugh, tears still slipping down your face.

“and listen to me,” he continued, his voice serious. “you’re not less of a mother if you call the babysitter to help out when i’m away, okay? you’re an amazing, strong, intelligent woman—and, might i add, incredibly beautiful,” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling faintly.

“but i need you to take care of yourself too. your body’s still healing, and you need time to breathe, especially when i’m not here to remind you. promise me you’ll let someone help next time?”

you nodded slowly. “i know, but—”

“no ‘buts.’” he pressed a finger to your lips. “don’t talk about my wife like that. have a little faith in her, like i do, yeah?” he kissed your temple, the warmth of his touch calming you.

“okay,” you whispered, sniffing.

“good.” he stood suddenly, scooping you into his arms and starting to walk.

“now,” he said with a grin, “let’s relax for a bit. i’m running you a bath.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into his chest with a content sigh. “i love you so much, you don’t even understand.”

he chuckled softly, pressing another kiss to your temple. “oh, sweetheart, believe me—I do. because i love you just as much.”

[goldweaverr]

Hi! I just saw your first post about our beloved Kremnos prince, Mydei, and I absolutely love it! ❤️ You captured his character so beautifully, especially his views on love and romance. I adore how meticulous and accurate you were in portraying him—I completely see him that way too! Our prince carries the heavy burden of his family's royal lineage and the countless people who rely on him in the name of Kremnos. This perfectly explains his inexperience with love and romance—he simply has no time or hasn't been able to find someone to share such a connection with. I absolutely love how you portrayed his behavior when he finally discovers someone he can truly open his soul to! It’s so beautifully done! ❤️ I wonder—have you ever thought about Mydei letting his lover take the lead in bed? Whether it’s because of his inexperience or his eagerness to explore, the idea is so captivating. I love imagining Mydei finally letting go, allowing himself to be passionately ravished as he releases all the pent-up stress and burdens he’s carried for so long. It feels so fitting for his character—a vulnerable yet liberating moment where he can truly surrender and experience love in its rawest form. ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

OH MY !! I wasn't expecting such a lovely response at all, I'm so flustered, thank you so so much !!! I'm glad we share an opinion and I'm so glad you like how I portrayed him !!! I was hoping people would see The Vision™ so I'm beyond happy to know that not only has it reached, but others see it too ~! I'm very overwhelmed with the positive responses, and I'm more than happy to be sharing a space with so many fellow Mydei fans!! I finished the quest today and haven't been okay about him since, I hope he doesn't get sidelined too much as the story progresses and more characters get introduced because I sincerely love him so, so much <3

Again, thank you for your kind words!! They mean so much to me!!

And as for that lovely idea... muehehe let's get to it then ! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ I hope I can do it justice !

— NSFW! MDNI! No spoilers!

Love. In it's rawest form.

He knew he could let you take control. All your midnight rendezvous so far had him taking the lead. It just simply felt natural to be the one to drop you on your back — hand behind your head to soften your impact against the already soft mattress — and pleasure you until you can't take any more. Until all you can do is scream his name endlessly. Until you forget there were Titans out there to worship instead of him. That was his role towards you, it felt only natural. He didn't mind it one bit, he was more than happy with it. Steadied above you by the strength of his arms, staring at the gorgeous sight of you unraveling underneath him, your expressions, the eye contact, your nails on his back. It was divine.

Sometimes, you two would spice it up a bit by making slight changes. Trying a few new positions. You were both still so new to this, taking it really slow to remain comfortable. Yet so eager to explore more of each other, of love, and sex, intimacy. Although he understands there's no shame in having discussions about these things beforehand, it still felt easier for him to learn through action. If something bothered either of you, neither would hesitate to express it, and everything halts. He's not an animal. He understands boundaries, limits, preferences, comfort.. he doesn't shy away from expressing his own, and wants you to always be equally as comfortable. Love is not meant to be uncomfortable.

For example, one thing Mydei found he doesn't like is when you're on all fours and he's taking you from behind.

The position felt... Uncomfortable to him in a strange way. He found it felt a bit degrading to you, and it prevented him from seeing your face and expressions. Which upset him when he came to realize that not staring at your beautiful face while he's making love to you takes away so much of the intimacy that brings him comfort during these activities. He loves watching your reactions. He even likes talking to you through it. Lacking that made him feel vulnerable in a way. So after you were done, he told you how he felt, and that was the last time the position was used. Simple as that.

You had both been thinking about bringing it up, but wondering how to approach it.

He might not look like it, but when it came to this newfound love, he was so no less eager to discover everything that came with it. He wanted to know everything about you and show you everything about him. He wanted to know how to kiss you in the right ways, how to hold you with a grip that's balanced between protective and loving, how to be there for you in a way that doesn't suffocate you, where on your body to put his lips so that he drives you insane, what pace of thrusts makes you see stars in the glory of Kephale's morning...

And through it, he discovers himself. He's learning along with you. He doesn't know much about these parts of who he is, he's endlessly grateful you've given him this opportunity to learn and get to know himself more. And his recent thought is that it might be nice if sometime, you were to get on top of him and ravish him the way he usually does to you.

But, that can't be right? He can't ask you to do that, can he? Is he allowed to want this? Shouldn't it be his job to pleasure you and take care of you? It might be shameful if he wanted to just sit back and let you do all the work...

You, on the other hand, were thinking about it endlessly. Wanting to watch him relax, watch him unwind. Wanting to be the one giving him pleasure for once, he deserves it. He takes so much care of you, always putting you above himself, in every aspect. Even outside of your relationship, he's always putting others first. Prioritizing Phainon's safety over his own, even the two outsiders above himself. Putting the city of Okhema and it's citizens safety first, putting the wants of his people above his own... He's never given enough credit for how much of himself he sacrifices everyday for others, because they view him as too distant, too rough, too cold... His actions speak louder than his words, and his actions are constantly putting himself in harm's way if it meant someone else would be safe.

So, for once, he deserves to turn his mind off. Turn off his senses and his desire to please. To just enjoy being taken care of, being loved, being thanked for everything.

So when midnight came around (or the hour people got used to being midnight, not like the endless sunlight indicated much for them) and you two found yourself tangled up in the usual dance that happens so often, you decided it's now or never. As Mydei began to slowly guide you towards the mattress, lips never once leaving yours, you turned your position around an dropped him down instead. The sudden movement broke the kiss and left him with an expression of shock on his face, staring at you questioning what just happened. You smile at him and gently push him up a bit more, letting him get entirely comfortable on the bed. He follows your lead slowly, unsure where this is going, but curious to see what you're up to. Your expression remained calm, a smile that looks almost like a smirk, mischief and adoration in your eyes as you stared into his fiery gold ones. "let me take care of you" you broke the silence by saying. His mouth opened slightly, as if to answer, before it closed again after not finding the right words. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he doesn't break eye contact, "take care of me?" He asks, tone full of uncertainty. You nod, "you're always taking the lead. In battle, in bed.. why don't you just let me thank you this time, hm?" Your voice came out soft and gentle as you began to straddle him, hands pushing him down slightly so he can be fully relaxed into the comfortable bed and he follows your every silent order as you get yourself comfortable on top of him. His lap, your throne.

This is what he's been thinking of. He should be happy. But he finds himself feeling a bit guilty, like he doesn't deserve it, like this isn't fair to you, and that prevents him from relaxing entirely. The worry on his expression was clear to you, you understood each other through the tiniest of microexpressions, and you could tell what he was thinking. "You're worth everything" is all what you say in response to soothe your worries, deciding to follow in his example and let your actions speak louder than your words.

You pressed your lips in kiss gently, moving against his in a soft rhythm that felt too innocent considering the moment blooming between the two of you. His hand came up to grip the back of your head carefully, letting you do what you want and following along as best he can. Your hand on the other end got to working off the armor on his body, shedding away the last piece of protection that separates his bare body from you, thinking to yourself how grateful you are that he trusts you to this extent, to allow himself to be this vulnerable and unprotected in your presence. His hands shift as they help you take off his clothing, the sound of metal hitting the ground resonating as more and more pieces are thrown off to the floor carelessly until he was naked. Although it was all about him tonight, you still pulled away to strip yourself as well, not wanting him to feel an imbalance in the dynamic between the two of you. As soon as you were naked, he leaned in to kiss you again but you dodged his lips with a playfully chuckle, he lets out a sulking scoff in response.

You begin to kiss his jaw, running your tongue over the spot you knew he liked, before you slowly went down to his neck. Your arms wrapped around his waist to drag your chest flush against his, wanting to feel him as close as you can as your lips continued to explore his neck, as perfectly sculpted as everything else about him is.

Marks left shamelessly decorating his neck, paying no mind to how easily they can be seen through the little clothing he wears. Your hands and mouth worked in tandem to assure his pleasure, one hand busying itself rubbing his length up and down slowly, another playing with his chest, as your mouth kept leaving kisses and bites and hickeys all over his neck and collarbones, tongue tracing over the red marks adorning his torso. His breathing heavy, his chest heaving up and down quickly, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise them, shameless moans and grunts and groans coming from above you. Sneaking a peek over to look at him, his eyebrows are pressed together tightly in pleasure as his eyes are closed shut, head leaning back, sweat dripping down his forehead.. a divine sight. One that motivated you to work even harder to pleasure him. Your mouth left his neck and went down to take a nipple in your mouth, earning you a harsh jolt of his entire body that made you yelp. "Sorry.." he apologizes sheepishly, face red as his hands try to distract you by roaming all over your body. You suppress a chuckle and plant a quick smooch on his lips to tease him, and he lets out a quiet groan as he rolls his eyes at you. You get back to what you were doing, sucking his nipple the way he does to yours, hand playing with the other way, all while your other hand never left his length, giving him just enough friction to stay excited, never enough to cum.

Eventually you let go of his chest and pull back for a minute to admire your work so far, admire how he already looks spent despite you barely being halfway through your mission. He'll complain and scold you for all the marks left across his torso tomorrow morning, but you'll deal with that problem later, currently you feel proud of yourself. Your gaze moves over to the vein on his bicep and your nail drags against it softly, idly, as you consider your next move. He stares at you wordlessly, anticipating what's next. He might not be admitting it through words, but he is entirely enjoying this. He doesn't understand why he'd hear some men complain about feeling their pride sting if they ever let their partners take the lead, if anything, Mydei has never felt more like a king than he does in this moment, all the attention on him as he's practically being worshipped. He feels so powerful, but most importantly, so loved.

You make eye contact with him again, a gentle expression as the friction between your gazes could practically be seen as sparks of electricity. "I love you" he says, breaking the silence but igniting that flickering flame that needed a fuse. You smile, not responding, but instead immediately pushing yourself down to the ground to kneel in front of him, preferring to answer him with more service. He props himself up on his elbows to keep watching you intently, as you wrap your arm around his length again, and bring your lips to it. He's used to gripping your hair when you go down on him, guiding you to the pace he prefers, but this time when he grips he makes no other moves, trusting to let you take the lead entirely how you want to. You won't deny him his pleasure after all, it's you.

At times he has the most random thoughts. Like if the walls are actually thinner than he thinks. Like if anyone on the other end can hear the mighty crown prince moaning out his partner's name. Like if Aglaea's golden threads can even pick stuff like this up, oh no ....

But a jolt of pleasure brings his thoughts back to reality as he redirects his attention back to you.

He isn't ashamed of what he has with you. He's afraid of where it might take him. Of how much he's willing to do for you. He knows every minute spent with you indulging in romance and desires is playing with fire while he's made of gasoline. And he'll burn down to ashes in his most graceless moments when he's bare under your gaze that burns gold into his skin, liquifying his flames into a puddle of adoration for you.

While maintaining eye contact with you, a silent exchange of vulnerability, it spoke an endless capacity. An unspoken sentence of 'Y𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦' ringing loudly in your ears. '𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴'.

You brought out the best out of each other, but simultaneously the ugliest human parts as well. Brought out the honesty he's hid from others and himself, brought out the desires he's kept ignored without caring about the hole they were digging in his soul. Gnawing away at his very being and turning him hollow. Brought out the love he was afraid to ever confront. But he's here now, confronting it and ruling over it's court. And tonight is the summit of Mydei's seemingly pathetic life. The two of you are wrapped up in a galaxy of your sins; summed down to nothing but a constellation of the most raw human desires. Who were the titans to demand worship when they knew nothing of what true religion was. This was a ritual. An exchange of souls. It meant more to Mydei than anything else has. This was raw, this was love. He could live in a reel of this night replaying endlessly forever.

The rest of this cursed world could matter later, to hell with every prophecy that demands his presence, nothing felt more worth experiencing in this moment than your mouth on him and your heat surrounding him and your praises spilling against him and your touch killing him and bringing him to life a thousand times over in this bed.

This was love in it's rawest form, and they can call Phainon the chosen one all they want, but Mydei feels like he's received the greatest blessings this universe has to offer him when he made eye contact with you the first time, and if the black tide was to eventually swallow even the last standing holy city, then to hell with all of it if you'd still be by his side.

[woozinhos]

You mentioned drunk sex and I reaaaaaally want you to write that for every idol you write lol it’s my fave

So maybe we could start with yunho?😇

Thank you so much for your works, I love every letter of them😍

Notes: stop anon I’ll be counting on you to send them ahaha enjoy guys I love this one :D

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*

Yunho is already tipsy, laughing and stumbling as he tries to open the door to your shared apartment.

"Babe, I'm home," he calls out, finally managing to get inside.

You hear his voice and quickly run over to him, a big smile on your face.

"Yunho!" you exclaim, throwing your arms around him. "You're drunk."

He stumbles a bit but catches himself, hugging you back tightly.

"Maybe I am," he says, his words slurring slightly. "But I missed you too much to care."

He leans down and kisses you passionately, his hands roaming your body.

"You smell so good," he murmurs against your lips, inhaling deeply. "And you look so damn sexy."

"You're not so bad yourself, handsome," you say, a smirk on your face. "Especially when you're drunk and horny." He grins, pulling you closer and biting your neck.

"I'm not just horny," he says, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm needy." You let out a gasp as he bites down harder, leaving a mark.

"Need me, huh?" you tease, running your fingers through his hair.

His eyes darken with desire, his gaze fixated on you.

"Please, I need you to take care of me," he begs, his voice filled with desperation. "I need your touch, your body, everything."

“Maybe not tonight Yuyu you’re too drunk,” You say smiling at him in his state.

He pouts, his bottom lip jutting out in a childish manner.

"But I've been good," he whines, his grip on you tightening. "Why not tonight?"

You laugh at his behavior, ruffling his hair.

"Because you're too drunk to handle it," you say, trying to reason with him. "You'll regret it in the morning if we do anything."

He groans, clearly frustrated.

"But I don't care about tomorrow," he whines again, burying his face in your neck. "I just want you now."

"You're acting like a spoiled child," you tease, stroking his back. "Stop being so impatient."

He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, giving you his best attempt at a cute expression.

"Please, let's go to bed," he says, his voice soft and sweet. "I promise I'll be a good boy and listen to you."

You can't help but find him adorable like this, your heart melting at his words.

"Fine," you say, sighing in defeat. "Let's go to bed."

His face lights up with excitement, a huge smile spreading across it.

"Yes!" he exclaims, lifting you up in his arms bridal style. "I knew you'd give in."

He carries you to the bedroom, his movements still slightly clumsy due to his drunken state.

"Don't worry, I got this," he reassures you, even though he's clearly struggling to walk in a straight line. He almost trips multiple times, but manages to reach the bed and gently lay you down on it.

"See, I'm still capable," he says, trying to sound confident but still giggling.

He crawls onto the bed after you, hovering over you with a smirk.

"Now that I have you all to myself, I'm going to make sure you don't regret this." He boops your nose giggling.

You can't help but laugh along with him, finding his drunk boop cute.

"You're so adorable when you giggle like that," you say, booping his nose back.

He blushes, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"Only for you," he says, nuzzling his face into your neck. "You're the only one who gets to see me like this."

He struggles to take off his shirt, his fingers fumbling with the buttons.

"Ugh, why won't these damn buttons cooperate?" he groans, growing more frustrated by the second.

You sit up, watching him struggle with a mixture of amusement and fondness.

"Need some help there, love?" you ask, trying to hide your laughter.

He huffs, giving up on his shirt and looking at you with a pout.

"Yes, please help me," he admits, crossing his arms over his chest like a child throwing a tantrum.

You smile at his attitude, reaching out to unbutton his shirt for him.

"You're such a baby when you drink," you tease, finally managing to undo all the buttons.

He leans into your touch as you finish undressing him, his body now fully exposed.

"I know, but I can't help it," he mumbles, his eyes locked on yours with a mix of lust and love.

He starts to leave sloppy kisses along your neck, trailing down to your collarbone.

"Mmm, you taste so good," he moans against your skin, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Please, ride me, ride me hard," he begs again, his voice filled with desperation and need. "I want to feel you on top of me, bouncing on my cock."

His words make you shiver with excitement, your body already responding to his pleas.

"You want me to control the pace, don't you?" you say, your voice low and sultry.

He nods vigorously, his eyes darkening with desire.

"I need you to take control and use me," he says, his breath hitching as he anticipates what's to come.

You slowly strip him completely, taking your time to admire his body. He watches you with heavy lidded eyes, biting his lip as you tease him. His cock is already hard and throbbing, standing at attention for you.

"Look at what you do to me," he groans, unable to keep his eyes off of your body as you strip in front of him.

His hair is messy from running his hands through it, and his eyes are glazed over from the alcohol and arousal. He looks completely debauched and needy, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. He knows he's hot, and he knows you know it too. He smirks at your expression, loving the way you look at him with hunger.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?" he teases, his voice dripping with confidence.

"More than anything," you say, straddling his hips. He lets out a low growl as you settle on top of him, his hands instantly gripping your thighs.

He squeezes your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he tries to keep himself from bucking up against you.

"Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you," he says through gritted teeth, his cock twitching underneath you.

As you slowly sink down onto his cock, he throws his head back and lets out a loud moan, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"Oh god, you're so tight," he gasps, his grip on your thighs tightening even more as you take him deeper.

He's practically a mess beneath you, whimpering and moaning shamelessly as you start to move up and down.

"Please, harder, faster," he begs again, his voice breaking with each plea.

He's a whining mess of pleasure, completely lost in the feeling of your body riding him. His neck is exposed, veins visible as he continues to moan and whine your name.

"You're driving me insane," he pants, his eyes squeezed shut.

He looks up at you with those big, pleading doe eyes, his hair a complete disheveled mess from being pulled and tossed around. His cheeks are flushed, and his lips are parted, letting out little needy sounds every time you roll your hips. He can't take it anymore, he's so close to losing control. He tries to buck his hips up into you, but you pin him down, keeping him still.

"Please, I need to cum, please let me cum," he cries out, desperation evident in his voice.

"Beg for it more," you say with a smirk, your movements becoming slower and more teasing.

It's hard to resist when he looks and sounds like that, but you have to keep yourself in check. He lets out a frustrated groan, his body trembling with need.

"Please, I'll do anything," he says, his voice cracking. "I'll be your good boy, just let me cum, I need your permission."

His words make you shiver once again, and you can feel your own arousal growing from the sight of him being so submissive.

"Good boys get rewards," you say, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "And I think you deserve a reward for being so obedient."

His eyes light up at the promise of a reward, his hips bucking up again in excitement.

"I'll be the best good boy for you," he says, his breathing heavy as he tries to maintain his composure. "Just please, please let me have my reward."

You smile at his eagerness and decide to finally give him what he wants. You begin to ride him faster and harder, angling your hips just right to hit his sweet spot.

"That's it, you're doing so good," you praise, feeling his cock twitch inside you.

He's panting and gasping for air, his eyes rolling back again as you hit his sweet spot repeatedly.

"Oh god, right there, right there!" he cries out, his nails digging into your skin as he clings to you.

You keep up the pace, riding him mercilessly, his moans growing louder and louder.

"I'm so close," he says through clenched teeth, his body starting to tense up. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna fill you up so good."

He continues to babble and slur his words as he gets closer to his release, his sentences becoming incoherent.

"So beautiful, so perfect, mine," he says between moans, his eyes glazed over with lust and love.

He cums with a loud, guttural moan, his body arching off the bed as he spills inside you. His orgasm is intense, and he continues to spill for what feels like an eternity, filling you up completely. You ride him through his orgasm, milking every last drop out of him. He collapses back onto the bed, completely spent and breathing heavily.

"That was... incredible," he manages to say, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath.

You get off of him and he lets out a small whine at the loss of contact. He watches you with tired eyes as you walk away to grab the cloth, still trying to come down from his high. You turn on the faucet in the bathroom, letting the cool water run over the cloth. You wring it out slightly before returning to the bedroom, where he is now laying there with his eyes closed, a satisfied smile on his face.

You chuckle softly as you notice him passed out, a small puddle of drool forming on the pillow next to him. You gently clean him up, being careful not to wake him up. You admire his sleeping form, feeling a mix of affection and amusement at how easily he fell asleep.

[prodbymaui]

Aftermath — 이민형.

under the moonlight, you're all I need tonight

PAIRING: mark lee x gn reader

GENRE: lover duties

WORD COUNT: 1.1K+ words

WARNINGS: idol!mark, oral (mark receiving)

SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend comes home exhausted, and your lover signal goes blaring. now you don't want anything other than to provide comfort and relief like he does to you.

A/N: just a little mark blurb, I wish someone is sucking him good every night especially when it's exceptionally tiring because he deserves it!

Everything had been hectic today. Mark’s schedule started at the ungodly hour of two in the morning, barely giving him time to wake up properly before rushing off to get his makeup done. From there, he was whisked straight to the KBS building for Music Bank’s pre-recording, which concluded around 5 AM. Instead of taking a breather, they moved immediately into filming content for a YouTube feature. No sooner had that wrapped than Mark found himself in a whirlwind jacket photoshoot for his new album. As if his day wasn’t packed enough, he went straight into the recording studio to touch up vocals for one of his tracks, only to head back to Music Bank again for the live broadcast. When that was finally over, his schedule dragged him back to the SM building, where he practiced with the Dreamies for a grueling two hours. And just when you thought his day might wind down, he ended it with a long meeting finalizing the details of his solo album.

By the time the door finally clicked open at midnight, your heart ached at the sight of Mark Lee shuffling in, his steps heavy and sluggish. His usually bright eyes were now nearly shut with sheer exhaustion as he wordlessly made his way to the bathroom. You watched him, your worry growing with each step he took. You didn’t even get the chance to remind him it wasn’t good to shower so soon after coming in. The words died on your lips as you were too caught up in observing the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of his day. It wasn’t news to you that your boyfriend had one of the busiest and most grueling schedules imaginable for an idol. Still, no matter how much you told yourself to expect it, you never quite got used to seeing him in this state—completely drained of the energy that usually lit up his every move.

Minutes later, when Mark finally emerged from the bathroom, he looked even wearier, if that was possible. His damp hair clung to his forehead, and his clothes were sloppily thrown on, signaling just how little energy he had left for anything. He didn’t say a word as he trudged toward the bed, collapsing onto it without a second thought. It was hard to tell whether he hadn’t noticed you sitting nearby or if he was simply too tired to acknowledge your presence. Either way, you didn’t take it to heart.

Softly, you crawled into bed beside him, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. The gesture was simple but filled with all the love and comfort you wished you could give to soothe the ache of his day. You felt a quiet satisfaction when the corners of his lips curved upward in a small, unconscious smile.

“Tired?” You whisper against Mark’s ear, pressing yet another kiss.

Mark leans in to your touch, almost purring like a kitten getting pampered by his mom. But the tranquil comfort gets interrupted when your free hand slowly snakes its way down to the front of his sweatpants, resting on top of it just enough for Mark to feel your warmth through the fabric.

“Baby,” He mumbles, shuffling closer. “I can’t today, ‘m sorry.. So tired.”

The sigh coming out of his lips falls to deaf ear as your palm begins moving lightly along his hardening length. Mark hisses, hand threatening to grip the hem of your shirt. He relaxes a little eventually at your soft caresses on his scalp. Still, you could tell he’s in his thoughts again— by the way he’s unmoving in your hold and perform no reactions to your palm’s movements even in the slightest.

Therefore, you pull away from him. The fingers previously on his hair now sits gently on his cheeks.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything.”

With one last kiss on his lips, you slide downwards and meets the evident print of his cock. You trace it using your nose, grazing the pads of your lips if it catches, before tugging the bands to release his length. Using your spit as a makeshift lube, you watch how Mark’s body responds to your pumps of his cock, stimulating it all the while you move to lick along his balls. You nip lightly at his skin, just how he likes it. As expected, Mark exhales loudly, visibly more relaxed than earlier.

His whines pushes you to suck on one of his balls, fondling the other. Mark’s chest heaves up and down, your name slipping past his lips once or twice. The rim of your lips travels to his tip, sinking down to the base of his cock as you finally take him down your throat, providing Mark a pleasure he didn’t knew he needed at this moment.

“Fuck..” Mark sighs.

You bob your head, setting a steady pace that is not too much for you but is fast enough to bring Mark closer to euphoria. There’s no need of rushing things right now because none of this is about you. Tonight is all about Mark. Your ever hard-working boyfriend who shows nothing but competence, passion, and eagerness in everything he does. Your lovely boyfriend whose happiness is your happiness. It’s time to give back all the love he gave you in times you were in his position.

Mark’s arm covers his eyes as he pants, hips jerking involuntarily to thrust deeper in to your mouth. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, causing a choke from your end. It’s not a hinder to you as you recover immediately but Mark— God, Mark loves the feeling of you throat getting tighter as though it’s your pussy he’s fucking. He gasps, chasing the way it closes around him.

The more his high-pitched moans and desperate whines of your names escape his lips, the more your urge fuels inside you. You let your mouth moves on his length, letting him hit deeper and faster whereas your hand busies themselves traces the faint line of his abs and the other on his balls. You observe the way Mark’s face contorts at every movement from you until his fatigue finally melts as he releases down your throat, muttering sweet ‘thank you’s.

Licking the remaining drops of cum, you stretch a hand to the bedside and wipes down any saliva or cum left before returning the sweatpants back to where it is. After throwing the wet wipes to the trash can, you take a glance at Mark who’s already sound asleep before heading to brush your teeth and lays down beside him.

“You did so great today,” You peck his forehead, nose, and when your lips meet his, Mark wraps and arm around your waist— deepening the kiss before burying his face on your neck.

“Thank you, baby.” His hold gets a bit tighter. “Love you so much.”